The Thanksgiving weekend is winding down, but not my sense of gratitude for all the bounty of days lately. So much to be thankful for, from family to health to living in a beautiful place like the San Francisco Bay Area. Any of it or all of it could change in an instant, but right now, it’s all here, it’s all palpable. And right here is all that we can have, after all.
We left our home early in the dark of a foggy predawn. Drove through nearly empty freeways and dropped off one son at the airport, where long lines were forming already and traffic was backing up as if it had been rush hour. From the airport we headed south to Woodside, where I joined two other intrepid Velo Girls for a “melo” ride along Cañada Road in plenty more mist and thicker fog, though in full daylight. It was my first bike ride in such conditions, conditions that in general would have had me in bed reading and sipping coffee and waiting for the sun to coax me outside only after the last of the thinnest veils of mist had lifted. I must really like riding the bike because it made no difference to me that my glasses turned into a sieve of condensation through which only bits and pieces of the landscape managed to fall through my eyes or that my fingers were almost too icy to feel the brakes or that my feet were chilling even as I pedaled faster. I just kept going, and in fact, the moisture in the air made breathing that much easier, or so it seemed at the time.
After my ride it was time to hurry back to Marin and head out to Inverness and Pt. Reyes with my friend Toni for the last day of Open Studios, where my friend Cate Olds had some spectacular paintings on show, all of them hinting at the poverty of maps charting the true territory.
And now it’s night and I am exhausted and short on words, but still very long on gratitude.