Before today's post, a reminder and an announcement: you still have a week to enter the New Balance Minimus Zero Trail contest, and stay tuned next week for another (smaller) giveaway as well.
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For a contest that was thrown together on short notice, you guys sure know how to make things exciting.
The photo competition came down to a two-man contest - or should I say, a one-man one-dog contest between Rodger (the guy running across the giant butt) and Harry (the almost impossibly cute canine sporting powder blue Vibrams). The lead actually changed hands a couple of times through the day and evening, and by the time the polling officially closed, you could count the vote differential on one hand.
Having said that, congratulations to Rodger, who prevailed by the narrowest of margins and probably owes a favor to all his classmates, dorm buddies, and anyone else on campus he recruited to emerge triumphant. Thanks very much to everyone who participated in the contest - it really was a lot of fun to watch.
However, you may also recall that my intention was to use the winning photo as this weekend's Random Shot of Beauty - but since the photo in question is an enormous backside, the notion of actually describing it as beautiful may be somewhat up for debate. So I'm covering my bases with one from the photo vault, taken on a recent early morning in Fort Ord:
Encountering a sort of otherworldly scene like this - one that's only accessible about 15 miles from my starting point - right at daybreak almost always marks the time in a long run where spending the previous three hours in the dark begins to seem worth it.
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Keeping things short and sweet today so I can jump right into another post slated for tomorrow night; trust me, you'll want to check back for it. Until then, let's knock out our scheduled items of business ...
Winners of the New Balance Minimus Zero Road contest are Sticks for the women's pair, and Stan (9run) for the men's pair. E-mail me your contact info to claim your prizes. Thanks very much to everyone who participated in the contest, and stay tuned for the New Balance Minimus Zero Trail review and giveaway post coming soon. And remember that you can find the Minimus Zero Road at TravelCountry.com, an affiliate partner where your purchases support Running and Rambling.
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Our Random Shot of Beauty is an easy one, and continues the theme I re-introduced last weekend regarding springtime in Monterey County. Luckily, I had my regular camera with me this week ...
... so if you click to enlarge, you can see my son on his mountain bike down there (he's the blue dot), riding through a herd of sheep in Fort Ord. It's the kind of encounter that's happened so many times that neither one of them - my son, or probably the sheep as well - considers it even slightly out of the ordinary.
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Kind of a slow weekend around Running and Rambling HQ, where it was yet another "curl up on the couch and read a book" afternoon - because for the third Saturday in a row, rainy and windy weather have foiled my plans at slacklining.
On the other hand, weekdays have remained relatively clear lately, so I've been able to spend plenty of early mornings and late afternoons on the trails - and one of those afternoons gave me this weekend's Random Shot of Beauty. Apologies for the poor quality from my crummy camera phone, but you'll get the general gist of this one:
The return of sheep to Fort Ord, officially marking the beginning of spring in Monterey County - as well as the time for me to officially get serious about training.
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"You don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue -
If you did you'd find yourself doing the same thing too -
Breaking the law, breaking the law -
Breaking the law, breaking the law ... "
- Judas Priest, "Breaking the Law" (video after post):
*On the very remote chance that this post is read by somebody who is influential and bored enough to hold me accountable for what I’m going to describe, I’m gonna go ahead and slap a disclaimer here to say the following post is a work of fiction. At least as far as you can prove.
**
For the overwhelming majority of my day to day life, I try to be an upstanding member of society; it’s only when I’m running that I have a tendency to skirt around the rules.
(OK, maybe when driving also – but that’s a separate story.)
My disobedience is typically justified – to me, anyway – for one of two reasons: 1) the rule simply doesn’t make any sense, or 2) I’m too senseless to care. (Additionally, it’s worth noting that my wife recently described me as a “screw the establishment” guy, which probably factors into this little story as well. But that’s as far as I’m going with the psychoanalysis.) During any given run I embark on, it’s quite likely that I’ll break the rules for at least one of the reasons I mentioned above – and if the run is long enough, both of those reasons can easily come into play. Allow me to explain – and who knows? Maybe in a similar situation, you’d find yourself doing the same thing too.
Here’s an example of reason #1: a signpost at a trail entrance to the Fort Ord open space in Salinas - as seen at 3:30AM. A handful of these prohibitions were installed over the past several months, to crack down on … I’m not exactly sure. I’ve done pre-dawn runs here for at least 10 years prior to the existence of these signs, but apparently this year it’s against the rules. I’m not quite sure what happened in the off-season, but now my activity presumably makes me some kind of menace.
At first I thought it was a liability thing – like if someone happened to be mauled by a mountain lion in the middle of the night, he (or his surviving family) might turn around and sue the Bureau of Land Management who oversees the open space. However, you’re equally likely to suffer an animal-related trauma at midday – and for the record, my running group’s most recent mountain lion sightings out here have been around lunchtime - especially when you consider that rattlesnakes are generally still sleeping at 4AM. So you can’t really use liability as a rationale.
Then I thought perhaps the neighbors had an issue with people scurrying around behind their houses in the dark. This one seems a little shaky as well, because there’s really only a couple of streets that border access points to the public trails, and it’s not like I’m making a whole lot of noise when I’m shuffling by their homes. If someone happens to hear me, I’m almost positive that they were already awake when I got there. And once I’m past the houses, there are literally thousands of undeveloped acres where I can’t bother a soul; I could lead a marching band out there at 4AM without being noticed.
(The whole idea begs another question, of course: who’s going to enforce a “no running in the dark” rule? Will there be a graveyard patrol roaming the trails throughout the night? Will someone chase me if I run past an entry point one morning? Come to think of it, that might be kind of nice – I wouldn’t mind some company out there every now and then.)
Most of the time I’m not even using my headlamp when I pass the homes, which speaks to the appeal of running in Fort Ord in the dark; the trails are so wide and the landscape so open that I can run almost exclusively by moonlight. I wear a lamp just in case I wander into some heavy tree cover or tricky single track, but for the most part it stays off – and as soon as the first sliver of daylight peeks over the Gabilan mountains on the far side of the Salinas Valley, I tuck the lamp in my pocket for good.
A few hours and several miles later, I often encounter another type of sign that I disregard:
It says, “DANGER. DO NOT ENTER. This site is being investigated for ordinance and explosives.” Sounds pretty convincing, huh? I’ve written before about how Fort Ord is one giant munitions dump, with shells and casings lying around pretty much everywhere you look. The great fear, of course, is that some of the ammo on the ground is still live, which could obviously create a huge bummer for anyone unlucky enough to trip a landmine or step on a grenade somewhere.
The Army is gradually going through and clearing every square mile, but it’s an extremely laborious and time-consuming process that could take 20 years or more to complete. In the meantime, it’s not uncommon to find one of these signs on a seldom-used trail, basically warning you that there’s no guarantee you’ll make it through the next section in one piece.
Under normal circumstances, that’s enough reason for me to find another trail – but sometimes at the end of a long run I’m just looking for the most direct route to my end point, and my glycogen-depleted brain dismisses whatever risk might be involved. Last week, I found myself here at roughly mile 24, knew I was at least 7 miles away from my car, then looked at my watch and calculated that I had to be at work in about an hour and a half. Taking the long way around wasn’t an option, so I headed directly past the sign and into the unknown; I figured that if I blew up, at least I’d have an excuse for not showing up at work. At the time, that reasoning made perfect sense.
By the time I return to my car, I’m a law-abiding citizen again: the sun has come up to officially “open” the trails, and the paths that guide me home have long since been cleared of any danger underfoot. And if anyone official-looking should happen to ask me where I’ve been, I’ll probably just reply that I’ve enjoyed another beautiful morning on some of my favorite trails.
But as far as I’ll officially say on the record, this whole story has merely been a sleepy dream.
**
Although I haven't technically broken any laws, this song seemed appropriate considering that I haven't gotten around to posting my 80s metal playlist yet. I'll still try to get to it sometime - but until then, rest assured that this one made the cut.
Judas Priest, "Breaking the Law" (click to play):
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Keeping things short and sweet this weekend - but we've got a contest winner to announce before getting to the Random Shot of Beauty.
Before giving away a pair of Merrell Dash Gloves, though, allow me to share one curious observation from last week's contest: despite over 100 entries, not a single person guessed that the location of Merrell's Pretty Strong video was the hills above San Diego, CA. I'm thinking perhaps people were thrown off by the fact that I live in Monterey County, because there were a lot of guesses for Big Sur, Carmel, and other locations on the central coast. Of course, the other (and sadder) explanation is that nobody in Southern California reads my blog.
Regardless, we still managed to come up with a winner: Trisha Reeves, e-mail me your contact info - you've won! To everyone else, thanks very much for entering, and the Dash Gloves are available for purchase on Amazon.com as well as other online retailers.
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On to our Random Shot of Beauty:
A full moon over Fort Ord, as seen at approximately 6:30 AM ... and approximately mile 18 of my morning run. Have I mentioned that I'm in training mode again? I can't honestly say that my first 30-miler of the season felt good - but it does feel good to say that I've done my first 30-miler of the season. Because August already seems like it's creeping up on me.
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A few odds and ends before getting to our regularly scheduled Random Shot of Beauty …
* If you missed the first announcement, be sure to take advantage of the Vibram FiveFingers closeout sale at TravelCountry.com. Every model in stock is discounted at least 20%, and some are priced at 33% off retail. Obviously the earlier you get there, the better the selection will be, so don’t dilly-dally.
* This one’s neither here nor there … but every ultrarunner knows that the end of the year ‘tis the season for entering race lotteries. I threw my name into this hat today – we’ll see how things play out in a few weeks.
* If you were one of the lucky recipients of my Orbana giveaway contest last month, you’ve got another week to return your feedback to me so I can compile a review post in early December. Please don’t make me chase you down.
* Speaking of giveaways: it’s time to announce the winners of the Monkey Shake contest! Wes, Pamela, and Andrew (One Step Further): e-mail me your contact info – you’ve won! To everyone else, thanks for entering, and remember the awesome coupon code discounts available on the Monkey Shake website through the end of November: THANKS2011 for a Buy 2, Get 1 Free offer on 3-pack bags, and RANDR25 for an additional 25% off your purchase. Go get your Monkeys here - and obviously, a very big thanks to Corey and the Monkey Shake company for sponsoring this contest.
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This week’s Random Shot of Beauty hints at one of the downsides of the changing seasons:
Shadows falling across the Fort Ord open space, heralding early nightfall after the recent time change. My son and I are trying to keep our regular after-work bike rides – if you click to enlarge the picture above, he’s the blue speck on the trail in the distance - but with shortened daylight hours and chaotic holiday schedules, it often seems like we’re racing shadows and darkness just to keep it rolling.
It also makes us appreciate each successful ride a little more than usual, which perhaps isn’t such a bad thing.
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“I am who I am, who I am, well who am I – Requesting some enlightenment – Could I have been anyone other than me?” - Dave Matthews Band, “Dancing Nancies” (video after post)
What if I told you that this was your house:
Would that be someplace you’d be happy with? A place where you’d feel good about where life has taken you? Wait just a couple minutes before you answer - because the proposition is a bit more complicated than that.
So you live in a trailer; that’s not exactly fantastic news. The good part is you can park it wherever you like – even on a hilltop in the middle of a beautiful open space:
With some wonderful views of the valley below:
And spectacular morning sunrises:
Does that make the situation a little more appealing now?
And what if I told you that you could work from home, so you don’t have to deal with the hassle of a daily commute? There aren’t any corporate politics to frustrate you, and you generally get to make your own hours, as long as you’re available to your employees when they need you.
Yes, you have employees, and you’re the boss. Your role is actually quite important, as you’re responsible for the well-being of a few hundred direct reports:
Although they’re generally well-behaved, they tend to have some difficulty identifying with the larger goals of the organization, so they typically need a lot of guidance and supervision:
Fortunately, you’ve got a few middle managers who are very effective motivators, and can usually be relied upon to direct the front-line staff in working toward a common purpose:
You still have to stay on top of things, however – because every now and then, one of your middle managers might feel like slacking in the shade for a while:
And you're ultimately the person responsible for making sure that everything gets done.
Sometimes in the midst of an early morning run, I contemplate what life as a modern-day shepherd would be like, especially in the unique case of the guy who’s charged with overseeing the Fort Ord open space. I mean … yes, you’d live in a trailer, but the pace of life is blissfully slow. You’d get to spend day after day in one of the most scenic places imaginable, sleeping and waking with the sun, living a life of simplicity rather than battling the complexities and frustrations of the modern world. Sure, it’s hard to buy groceries or go out to the movies, but in my book there’s a lot to be said for the beauty of solitude.
(Besides, it’s not like you’d be totally isolated from society: you can shop on the Internet, watch TV online or movies from Netflix, and maintain a vast network of friends via social media. In fact, it’s a good bet this dude has his own Facebook page – and part of me wants to scan Twitter for names like @FortOrdTrailer or @MontereyShepherd to see what I find. On second thought, I probably won’t; it would be too discouraging to learn that he has more friends or followers than me.)
I’ve seen the shepherd several times in the midst of a my trail runs or bike rides, but never said anything more than “hi” or “good morning” as we’re both performing our selected tasks. The easy solution to my questions, of course, would be to just stop and pick his brain for a few minutes about job satisfaction and quality of life … but somehow I think if I actually found out, that would diminish my experience the next time I wander by.
Because half of the fun is in the wondering: whether I could live a life that’s so foreign to my own, whether I could be happy in a completely different set of circumstances, whether I could be anyone other than me. I suppose no one can ever know these things for sure, but they’re definitely interesting notions to think about when I’m making my early morning rounds.
* I always waffle back and forth about whether I prefer DMB's music played with the full band, or in the more chilled-out acoustic settings he specializes in. More often than not, the decision is based on my mood - and today, you're getting acoustic. Either way, this one's a gem.
Dave Matthews, "Dancing Nancies" (click to play; the song gets started about 1 minute in):
One reminder before our regularly scheduled programming: if you somehow missed it earlier in the week, be sure to check out my Merrell Barefoot Trail Glove review, and enter for your chance to win a free pair.
* This weekend's RSOB comes from very familiar territory:
Sunrise over Fort Ord, in the early miles of a long midweek training run. These are the kind of scenes that are worth waking up early for.
But wait - that's not all! This weekend you're getting some bonus Random Shots of Beauty, courtesy of my two daughters and their elementary school art show that took place this week. The first one is from my 1st grader, who is enamored with sea otters and wants to become a marine biologist someday:
It's called An Otter in the Ocean; simple, straightforward, and pretty much what we'd expect from her.
Her older sister had similar aquatic theme:
Asked for the title, she replied, "Um ... it doesn't really have a name." So we'll just agree to call it Untitled.
* One last administrative note: I'm off to Yosemite for a few days, and hoping to have a couple of posts robo-published here in my absence - but if for some reason there are technical difficulties, please stand by until we get officially rolling again at the end of the week.
Last Saturday, I was slogging through 12 hours of mud and rain; this weekend it's sunny and 70 degrees, and I'm taking the day completely off. What a difference a week makes, huh?
As usual, we'll knock out the giveaway winners before getting to this week's RSOB - so Brandon, Jennefer, and Drew: e-mail me your address; you've won the Rokit Fuel giveaway contest! Thanks to everyone else for entering, and special thanks to Rokit Fuel for sponsoring it.
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This week's shot is a leftover from a few weeks ago that didn't make my recent post about running in Fort Ord. It also stars my 12-year-old son, and was taken during one of our bike rides:
(click to enlarge)
Considering the number of times we've ridden together in Fort Ord, it's safe to say that my son's no stranger to the local fauna either.
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Remember back in school, when you used to come back from summer vacation and renew acquaintances with everybody that you hadn’t seen for a few months? And how every now and then, somebody showed up with a different sort of look to them that was more than just getting taller or wearing a new wardrobe; it was more of a sense that they were a slightly different person now – like they’d done something since you last saw them which impacted their attitude or personality in some small way that you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet?
That’s exactly the feeling I got when seeing all my sheep friends again for the first time this spring.
(click to enlarge any of these)
I’ve previously written about how it’s always a pleasant surprise to see the herd of sheep roaming the fields of Fort Ord for grass control, and for the past few weeks, I’ve encountered them in various locations on the open space. Sometimes you see them meandering across a hillside …
… or drifting across a wide valley as you crest the nearby hill. Other times you can hear them (or worse, smell them) before actually seeing them, but that’s neither here nor there. However, during each of my last few encounters there’s been something of a different look to the sheep this year. In particular, I’ve noticed …
… that they’re pretty well spread out all over the place, and they don’t hesitate to station themselves right in the middle of the trail on which you’re approaching. It’s a noticeable contrast from last year, when the herd typically looked like this:
Because they were tightly managed by a group of three sheepdogs on a regular basis. This year, although I’ve seen the sheep several times already, I’ve only seen the sheepdogs once – and that was when they were hanging around in the shade underneath the shepherd’s trailer, very passively observing their charges on a nearby hillside.
Consequently, the sheep are free to spread out wherever the heck they want, and it’s almost like they’ve had a taste of empowerment now. They always give up the trail once I get close enough, but lately they seem to actually consider the possibility of holding their ground. It’s like they've got a slightly different attitude this year - and while they can’t completely overcome their timid nature, they’re clearly a little bit less … sheepish, I guess.
This is the first year I’ve had the distinct sense that as I’m standing there checking the sheep out, they’re equally interested in checking me out as well. And this could just be my paranoia talking … but I get the distinct sense that they’re comparing notes with each other. Or maybe plotting something for the next time we cross paths. Who really knows?
As to what any of this actually means, I have no Earthly idea. Maybe the sheep are doing what all sheep do if left unattended for a while, like kids acting a little crazier at recess when they know the playground monitor is off duty. Maybe they attended some sort of self-help seminar since the last time I saw them. Or maybe these are Limitless sheep who got access to some sort of illicit drug that gives them supernatural abilities. (OK … that last one’s just my paranoia again.)
One thing it means for sure is that I’m already looking forward to running across them again, to see how they’re going to surprise me next. That means, of course, that I need to spend some more miles out here in the near future – which works out great, since that’s just what I was planning anyway. And anything my wooly companions can do to keep things interesting out there will always be appreciated.
So if these sheep really are concocting some ingenious plan to spring on me the next time I come across them … so much the better for both of us.
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Even more than trees in bloom or wildflowers in the park or extended daylight hours, this is one of my surest signs that spring has arrived in Monterey County:
The sheep are back! I'll have a regular post about this in the next week or two ... but in the meantime, I'm off to enjoy a beautiful springtime day.
One early morning last week found me in the middle of the Fort Ord open space, knocking out the miles of a long solo training run. It was a morning like countless other mornings – I had already been awake for a few hours before the sun came up, running on trails that are so familiar I could practically navigate them in my sleep.
That’s why I was somewhat surprised as I neared the crest of a two-mile climb and saw a lonely skeleton of a bush silhouetted against the stark gray sky, and thought to myself, I don’t remember there being a bush right here.
My eyes then darted to the top of the bush, and that’s when my mind started acting really funny. Sometimes the combination of sleep deprivation and prolonged physical exertion makes me see things in an unusual light … and as I approached the bush in question, I was wondering why someone left a Kleenex on the top of this skinny shrub in the middle of the night.
It was only when I slowed down and walked up close that I finally figured out what I was looking at …
… it was a flower. (And sorry about the poor picture quality. Remember, I was sleepy.) Our unseasonably warm weather must have tricked it into thinking it was springtime already – or maybe it was just anxious to get winter over with and jump right into the joys of spring. Clearly, this was a flower I could identify with.
I’m still not quite sure how I’ve never noticed this bush before, but that doesn’t really matter. More importantly, this little flower was a nice reminder that Monterey County’s most beautiful days are right around the corner … as are the ultras that are looming on the calendar in preparation for the big one this summer.
Either one of those things would have been enough incentive for me to keep running – so having both realizations hit me at the same time gave me twice the inspiration that I needed. In the middle of a solo 20-miler, that’s a pretty cool feeling to have.
It's time to announce our final winners from December's huge giveaway bonanza!
First, the winner of the Black Diamond Icon headlamp and Wilderness Running Company gift card is ... Shel! Contact me at the link below.
Moving on to the main VIVOBAREFOOT drawing - remember the ground rules here: depending on your shoe size and overall availability, you'll either receive a pair of the Neo shoe I reviewed, or the Evo, which in my opinion is a better overall shoe. With that in mind ... Marathon Maiden, Tim Butterfield, and treklightly, you're the lucky winners! Send me your address, and I'll pass your information along to my VB rep.
To everyone else who is interested in the Neo: check this product page to see if your sizes and colors are still available, or to put your name on the wait list for their official launch this spring. Thanks to everyone for playing!
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As for this weekend's Random Shot of Beauty: I haven't written much lately about bike riding with my son, but it's still something we do on a regular basis. This photo was taken last week while riding through the Fort Ord open space:
Go ahead and add January bike rides to the long list of reasons I love living here.
A few administrative notes before today’s post ...
1) There’s still time to enter the CLIF seasonal bar giveaway contest – until 5PM on Friday the 29th – so if you haven’t done so already, get moving!
2) A handful of people have asked whether my book is available in digital format, and the answer is … Yes! It’s currently priced at $9.99 on Kindle, and $7.99 on Nook. Since these electronic versions are already available for download, they don’t have a pre-publication discount (Sorry). But those prices seem pretty fair, don’t they?
3) Today’s post is another Monterey County ghost story, similar to the one I wrote for Halloween last year. One week ago I reformatted that report for a newspaper column, and was delighted to receive an e-mail from a descendant of the family involved: a Salinas resident who invited me to her house to learn more about the people in the cemetery. I’ll probably take her up on it someday – but in the meantime, another story awaits …
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“These are the bad lands, the worst place to fear – Making place for the ones we left here - They're calling, calling to say goodbye -
We’re dead in this ghost town - You’d better let go so let go, let go of me … “ - Shiny Toy Guns, “Ghost Town” (video after post)
During all the years I’ve lived on the Monterey Peninsula, I’ve known the Fort Ord open space as the perfect location for multi-hour trail runs, as well as my son’s favorite area for riding mountain bikes. To generations of people who came before us, however, Fort Ord was something much more significant: one of the most popular and strategically critical military installations in the United States.
Established in 1917, its ideal climate and proximity to the ocean made it one of the most highly desired assignments in the Army, but Fort Ord was better known for its large expanses of land with a wide variety of terrain. It made an ideal training ground for field artillery exercises, and the base quickly became a final tune-up area for soldiers preparing for combat. At one time during the 1950s and 60s, Fort Ord had more than 50,000 troops living in its barracks.
The base was closed in 1994, but voices from its heyday still linger – especially if you follow a quiet trail beyond the eucalyptus trees towards a recreation area that used to be a gathering spot for the military families who enjoyed this location for decades.
Signs of it are hard to see at first – but as you get nearer, you encounter things that seem out of place on normal trails, such as random metal poles …
… or cages that seem designed to trap wild critters, or perhaps protect domestic ones.
Continuing on the trail, you begin to see signs that time has taken its toll here, past structures that have started to collapse …
… or are merely weathered and abandoned. On the perimeter of the recreation area, buildings like this seem to materialize right before your eyes in the middle of the brush as you round one turn or another.
In the main recreation area, several playground structures are packed more closely together – and it’s fairly clear that when this area was maintained and the weeds weren’t growing wild around everything, this would have been a pretty cool spot for kids to play …
… and if you slow your pace and quiet your breathing enough, you can almost hear the echoes of children's laughter in the breeze.
Even the military training structures would have been fair game, as this bunker seems like an awesome little fort for a bunch of young explorers who needed a spot to trade baseball cards, read comic books, or just hide from their parents for a while.
Chances are that Mom would be sitting on the benches under this gentle oak tree, whose branches reached like long protective arms to provide welcome shade on hot afternoons.
A short distance from the playground is some sort of public address tower, which might have been used to coordinate games for the men who hadn’t been shipped off to duty yet. It stands within bullhorn distance of a family picnic area …
… which is next to a basketball court that probably saw a ton of pickup action in the days before a dislodged roundabout was parked there …
… and across a field from a backstop that was likely the site of hard-fought weeknight softball games, or chaotic Saturday T-ball games.
From the top of a nearby bluff you see a sole remnant of the community that once thrived here: a military chapel that was the centerpiece of the barracks village. In the early 2000s, this area was sold to developers, and most of the barracks were bulldozed in anticipation of creating a subdivision of contemporary housing. Thankfully, the chapel was designated for preservation in the new development, which never materialized after the economy crashed.
Now all that’s left in the area thousands of families once called home are a handful of buildings that escaped the wrecking ball, and the trampled memories of all those who lived and played here many years ago.
When I run through these areas today, I find complete solitude, as it’s rare to encounter another living soul on these trails. Consequently, the spirits and voices of the past are more easily perceived, and my thoughts inevitably dwell on the people who used this area the same way I do: as a place to play, to revel in the beauty of the surroundings, and temporarily escape the stresses and rigors of daily life. I can virtually see them in my mind, and hear them saying goodbye as I make my way back through the eucalyptus trees.
From their standpoint, they don’t know if I’ll ever be back to visit again, but from my standpoint I’m certain. If only there were some way I could assure them.
**
As for the song: it’s probably one of my ten favorites from the past year … but I have to admit that the video is something of a stretch. It’s got a “Japanese manga meets the old-school Heavy Metal movie” vibe to it, and the result is probably a bit more corny than it was intended to be. But that’s just my opinion; maybe it works better for you.
