Taking to the road is at once nerve racking and liberating.  I’ve just returned from a road trip through California and was able to take the slow road home, the slow road being Highway 1.  I saw the coast all the way from San Diego to Crescent City.  Most of the time I view California as a sprawling, truly ugly beast of a state, but my mind has been changed.  Once you move away from the bulk of southern California and the interruption known as the Bay Area, the beauty of this state is truly unveiled.  From elk and deer to elephant seals, I viewed nature at its most unfettered beauty.  The cliffs, hills, the sea, and the trees, o’ the trees, carried me away from the concrete hell that are large cities and sprawl.

When I first stepped foot into Portland, Oregon a few years ago my midwestern breath was taken away by the immensity of the presence that the trees held here.  Although I do still revere the great trees of the Pacific Northwest, the colossal Redwoods of northern California quietly humbled me.  Here grow the kings of our world.  I slept under their arms and listened to the cold heartbeat of the ground below.  It was as if I had taken a train to some land of imagination and fantasy.  These forests were truly remarkable.

It was strange to me, then, to find out that Poppies, being California’s state flower, cannot be touched while the mighty Redwoods can be cut to make furniture for those that can afford it.

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