42 Dreams of Arizona Bay

I can’t really describe my drive today, what I saw. I can only describe the periphery. I encourage anyone who wants to, to come visit me, and we’ll take a gorgeous drive together.
It hit home to me that I’ve made the right decision to move here. I can hop in my car and go anywhere. I can see desert or mountains or a canyon, Yosemite or the sequoias. I can drive to the ocean some day too. I can see oranges growing, and lemon trees nestled up in foothills.
I always loved Michigan, because it was beautiful. But it’s a different kind of beauty. I’m glad to have the chance to experience this. I’m glad to be living here.

The greens in the trees seem to be a bit duller, darker. The sweeping landscape south of Fresno feels somewhat familiar because there are long stretches of open fields. Again, there’s something not quite right about the color. Many familiar trees aren’t here, but contrary to popular belief, there are actually trees with changing, falling leaves, as well as the ones that look like they’ll be green throughout the winter.

You see the mountains off in the distance. And you keep driving, and driving, and eventually they get closer. It’ll be a while, though.
For a long part of my meandering drive today, there were just open stretches of nothing, with towns large and small in between.
And then you start hitting the mountains, or maybe tall, rocky hills. Beautiful, towering above, to either side.
At one point, I felt illogically claustrophobic, because it felt like mountain to the right was closing in on me. I soon overcame it, and started concentrating on the twists and turns and views I can’t begin to describe. I drove very slowly in some curves, and it didn’t help that it started to rain. It also gets completely dark by about 5 here, so I began to worry that I would have to drive back on these curvy roads. If I hadn’t been so worried about blindly hitting someone, I would’ve enjoyed the chance to put my car through its paces.
In the foothills, or whatever you might call them, there are a few tourist trap type villages, no more than a smattering of hotels, shops for junk you didn’t know you needed, and of course, restaurants.
I saw a sign for maritime something and thought that’s stupid, there’s no water here. And then my breath was taken away when I saw a lake nestled in between the mountains, with layers where water must have been higher at some point.
I made it to just before the entrance to Sequoia National Park, I think it’s called. I didn’t want to have to pay admittance when I’d have to turn back before it got much darker. I also wanted to save my first glimpse of the sequoias for when I have a digital camera.
But the drive, and even the gas, was worth it.

It is warmer than in Michiana right now. But you know, I think that whole no rain thing was a little exaggerated. It has rained a couple of times since I have been here, and it’s still raining now. But I’m glad of that too. Because I thought I’d miss the rain.
I probably won’t get it much during the swelteringly hot summer, I’m guessing. I’ll probably take more mountain drives just to get out of the heat.
But for right now, California seems like the late afternoon light on my way back — beautiful and golden. Before I see it on a bad day, before I see it in smog. Before I see the weird crimes that I’m told pop up around here.