Dawn came at around 6am this morning, and as I sat typing away, I noticed an amazingly colorful light falling across the venetian blinds that cover my front windows. I got up to look and to open the blinds so light could fall upon my kitchen jungle, and was amazed at the color of the morning.
There was a layer of high cirrus clouds up at least 15 or 20,000 feet, but down lower, just a few thousand feet up, was a puffy dabbing of tiny cumulus clouds, looking like the proverbial flying armada or cotton balls. They were, in the slanting eastern light, absolutely dipped in orange and pink. A very warm salmon color, and like celestial disco balls they were refracting that light and casting it down upon San Rafael, and presumably upon the rest of the North Bay.
I went out onto the back patio to take in the gorgeous light, and noticed streamers of heavy ground fog, running along the forested hillside across the highway, where I sometimes ride my mountain bike. That fog was light gray, almost white, and billowing and blowing along like streamers before a fan. Not breaking up though, just flowing and roiling like a horse's mane, beneath the salmon clouds, with the dawn sun slanting over the dewy hills, and beneath the high, patchy layer of slate-bellied cirrus clouds. The air was crisp, cool, and humid, and very clear. And since it was very early on a Saturday, there was almost no one about. Even the nearby Highway 101 was fairly quiet, and after a moment's contemplation of the beauty of nature, I threw on a coat, grabbed my wallet and keys, and rushed out to my car.
I had to drive around a bit, to get out into the glorious morning and see the fog before it dissipated. I knew the bay would be hidden, and I wanted to drive along
the winding road through China Camp and see the foggy bay, and the sunrise peeking over the forested hills of that small state park.
So I did.
It was a lovely drive, though not so beautiful as I had hoped. The pink light was lost before I reached the park, since the land along the bay was swathed in mist. I could hardly see the water from the road, even though it's seldom more than 30 meters away, over marsh or grassy hillside, and I didn't see the sun since the hills rise up 1000 feet or so along there, putting the western lee deep in the shadow. It was a great drive though; the road was empty save for a few early morning bicyclists, and I rolled along the very windy course (the google map images do not do it justice) with the course to myself. I went all the way through the park and followed the road around the point back towards San Rafael proper.
Passing through the east side of town at 7am on a Saturday was interesting; the traffic lights were blinking red, the strip malls were deserted, and the only people I saw were dog walkers and a few other early morning commuters. Much of that area of downtown SR is residential and long established, even though it's just a block from 3rd Street, a very busy road with a Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, an Elephant Pharmacy, and other stores of the type that white people like. All of
those blocks north of 3rd and east of 101 are (huge) tree-lined streets, old (for California) and stately houses with grassy yards. It's not exactly picturesque, but it's at least quaint, and on a sleepy Saturday morning, with the trees going golden and auburn and virtually no other cars on the road, it was a very pretty drive.
I wound my way through that part of town, moving semi-aimlessly, just enjoying the golden early morning light and the clean air. It rained heavily last weekend and early this week, and though it's been sunny and cool the past few days, the air has remained very clear and clean, as it gets after a hard rain. I drove with my window down, despite the morning cold, since I couldn't stand to have even fairly-clean glass blocking my view of the trees and gardens and old brick walls and root-cracked sidewalks.
Finally, as the day's inexorable advance began to negate the fairy tale lightning of the dawn, I drove back home, taking a circuitous non-freeway route. I've been back for half an hour now, and other than being moved to type this out, while battling (with mixed success) an uncharacteristic urge to lapse into florid prose and torrid metaphor, I'm just been looking out the window, gazing up at the cloudy eastern sky, and thinking.
What am I doing with my life? Why do I work so hard on non-essential nonsense while ignoring the important things? Do I actually want to spend time with and open my heart to the various women I'm sort of considering dating? Do I want to continue living in the North Bay? In the Bay Area? In California? Do I want to apply to a selection of writing graduate schools before the December 31st deadline? Why can't I take more concrete steps towards achieving my large goals, instead of growing distracted by momentarily-engaging minutia? And so on. Pity I'm not doing this at 24, instead of now.
Actually, I did it at 24 too, come to think of it. Let's hope for progress by 44, shall we? In the meantime, at least it's a beautiful morning.
Labels: personal, weather
