We're off to walk-and-dine in Napa
A wonderful break for us both.
We zoom away in Harriet's car
Which means I can take shotgun shots.
If ever or never I'm able to take a
Picture of Cherry Valley it's now.
Because it does go fast when passed on the right --
It's often a fuzz, not a wonderful sight.
But it's there, Amahl. And so is Jameson Canyon.
With a blazing riot of wildflowers at its mouth.
We leapfrog just beyond the Napa city border, at the intersection of Old Solano and Congress Valley Roads,
with treed hills to the south
and north.
But our route is straight up the gentle hill, and back down into Napa proper.
The patterns of the vineyards are intoxicating
geometrical,
set against natural architecture, pruned by the wind.
The road is dappled and mild to the south,
blazing and sere north,
up and over, straight on,
across the Napa Valley to the distant Vaca Mountains from these Mayacamas foothills.
And here we are for lunch at Joe's by the Napa River -- well, Harriet, contemplative, at least --
and me.
Can't see me? Here's up close.
Well, maybe too close,
in the reflection, which also includes a panorama of mountains,
mezmerized as Harriet holds forth.
Return via Jameson Canyon again, near the Napa-Solano border, a lonely power-pole crucifix (well, guess not, there's only a transformer perched on it -- transformer, hmm...),
two redwoods, and beyond
nothing but a naked declivity,
with shadowy cattle,
flowers and a high-wire bird (also shadowy),
lines of trees and grass and clouds,
isolated powerlines,
cliffs. Rather a lot, really.
Home (as opposed to Arizona's Canyon de Chelly, above), mixing recording of Harriet in All the Dark Birds, in versions for
Flying Out the Mouth and
Flying Mixes, with the addition of the original Navajo Ribbon Dance.
