San Francisco beckons. Driving behind a zig zagging highway patrol car, broken honda on the embankment. Turning heads, passing the disaster, resuming speed limit. Flintstone house burnt orange. Wishing to see the inside and meet the owners. Onward, Father Serra points us.
The Park. Full of heady sights, sounds, and smells. Foxglove, mock orange, pink toddlers twirling in a field of white flowers, grass, rain, umbrellas, taxis, rhododendrons, people, vistas, planking, elevators, trees, sailboats, golden gate bridge, whitecaps, frisbees, picnic, raspberries, de Young, sphinx, bagels, laughter, smiles, bing cherries. Planking for three hundred photographs. Yes planking.
Japanese Tea Garden. Green tea with brown rice, warm. Ah, relief from drizzle and drain. Sunrays spotted. Friendly waiter. Mochi melts. Ducks on the water. Blossomless cherry trees. Year of the Rabbit. In more ways than one, year of the rabbit.
Talent Show of Harbor High. 7:30 curtain. Avoiding the rain, waiting for doors to open. Mother and daughter huddle, small umbrella. Larry in Idaho. Awaiting his return patiently, praying for safety and peace. Good talent. One singular student guitaring while singing of Jesus. Impressed with bravery.
Sunday church and sleep. Choir. Recovering. Rest. Rabbit. Michante.
Monday is it! Pirates, pancakes, popcorn. Laughing, smiling, listening to stories of planking. BJ's. Good-bye quince. Unbelievable to me.
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