Finding a rental in a college town in June is an absurdity. Yes, more houses come on the market when those rascal students flee for their summer vacations. But all the houses they leave behind are as creepy as one might expect. Maybe even creepier in a foggy north coast way, with ancient homes from the 30s and 40s that have never been updated, and were built without insulation or charm, but easy enough to unload on students who don't care what the house looks like as long as they're no longer living under their parents' roof. An electric stove straight out of the 50s? Cool. Every garage converted to an extra bedroom? Excellent. An attic with a bed? Let's just call it a loft, shall we?
That's life here in this beautiful college town on the north coast of California.
So, when it finally gets to be too much for us, we take a walk. Wednesday we went to the local marsh and wildlife sanctuary.
Thursday went to the community redwood forest.
Roger stood in the stump for me, and I tried to wrap my arms around one in a hug that embraces probably more than 3000 years on earth.
It's a balance. Those unbelievably horrible rentals and this ecstatic beauty everywhere else.
So we remind ourselves why we came. That, and our grandchildren will be much closer, and the temperatures reaching 100 degrees on the old home turf on Sunday. The cool ocean air is the most beautiful reminder of why we are making this journey.