“The valley cupped us like a green bowl, tilted to spill us into the sea. The air smelled of wet earth and wet trees. Overhead crows cawed and dipped and lazily flapped their ways home. Above them there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; nothing but that pure dome of early evening blue. Naturally we were in high spirits. We skipped over puddles, cracked jokes, and described to each other the dinner we were headed for. “I’m starved,” the old man declared. “Starved! I haven’t eaten a thing since you told me we were invited.” “But that was only a couple hours ago!” “Sure, but I passed on tea.” We turned off the river path and climbed the trail leading to the Nicolins’ house. Once over the freeway we could see it through the trees. It was the biggest house in the valley, set on a fine patch of cleared land just behind the highest part of the beach cliff. The yard around the house had been planted with canyon grass, and the two-story, tile-roofed building stood on its green lawn like something left... over from the old time.MoreLessShow More Show Less
The Wild Shore: Three Californias (Wild Shore Triptych)
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