Grey and Green

Sunshine and I are lounging around our hotel room after a fair drive out to wine country for our fourth anniversary getaway. Mind you, it really is more about spending time away from all of the usual stuff and getting time together than doing anything specific. And that's fine with us, quite frankly. It's the way we are.

The hotel is nothing wonderful, and I say that with great charity, but it was one of the few that had anything available this weekend. It turns out that what I had hoped would be has become what is: the ride up fantastic. We have always lived along the 10; we met while both of us lived in Claremont, we got a place together in Upland (east of Claremont), moved east again to Ontario, and finally far west to Los Angeles. The problem with the 10 is simple: it's too crowded. Between the coast and the 15—a stretch of pavement around 60 or 70 miles long—there is what we sadly refer to as civilization. City blends into city, and the only seams are in the pavement. All there is to see is a series of overcrowded municipalities periodically punctuated by trees that city employees fight to keep alive.

The 101 is different. Once we had left the city behind us by half an hour (miles don't much matter when following a freeway for close to three hours), we found something we had not seen in California since we drove down from Washington back in 2002: trees. Yes, there are trees along the 10, but these were trees in orchards, trees on hillsides. There were cattle and horses. There were vineyards. The ride up made the trip. Everything else, including the ride back . . . well, it's our anniversary.