Day 6 is dedicated to the redwoods and all the other flora under siege by our modern life-way. I am passed by truckload after truckload of ancient carcasses and the empty trucks returning south for more. Their shredded skin lines Highway 1.
Where are they all coming from? I thought they were functionally decimated decades ago. Maybe that’s just when I stopped paying attention. Which do we value more, a porch, a fence, or a tree? We each get to choose.
Still, I smile and wave. Forgive us Mother. We know not what we do. Mama forgives.
This day started with my new hat from Terri being consumed by the Point Arena vortex. I hoofed back into town scouring for it, but it was nowhere to be seen. This was the wettest morning yet and ultimately I had to concede that the sun wouldn’t be showing itself at all. Somehow my bag dried enough in the thick fog to pack it only slightly damp.
The wind, cold and damp were at first reminiscent of yesterday, but lightened up slowly as the day wore on.
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