Chris was to me.
I am to my mom.
And so it goes.
(LOVE)
2/24/87-10/29/08.
Happy birthday, Chris.
(A very special day indeed.)
Jan and I went to Julian on Sunday with Leslie, her friend, and their dogs. We revisited the apple orchard of Christopher's death, formerly called Raven Hill Orchard. It was locked, so we walked alongside the barbed wire fence to the end of the property. Still visible was the broken up land where Chris died in a teepee. Across the way was Meghini Winery. I stepped inside for a brief wine tasting and a chat with the owners, who knew the story of Chris.
Next, we traveled to the base of Volcan Mountain.
It was closed due to the snowfall a few days earlier, but we hiked a little ways (about 1 mile) anyway. I showed them some stones where mortar bowls were made by the natives of the land some time ago. I picked some wild sage.
Around 4pm we decided to head back to the cars and go into town. We said goodbye to Leslie and her friend and the dogs. We stopped by a medium and got a 15 minute reading each.
The day was beautiful. After our reading we headed home, stopping at a local casino, losing some money, and enjoying a free dinner. I drove some of the way home, Jan drove the rest.
My wild sage, bundled up, beginning to dry.
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