Best of all worlds

The other day I went to the local farmers market at Cabrillo Community College. It was an unseasonably warm day, one of those little islands of sunshine that usually pop up in January. I was helping the animal shelter promote cat adoption, so I was there for half the day.

At one point, I decided to talk a walk to the top of the college, which is built on a hill. The gardening department is on top, quite a climb up from the street, and when I go there, I found a bench overlooking the Monterey Bay. I sat down and just took it all in. I could see the hills of Monterey and Carmel, looking like islands rising from the sea, and the smoke stacks of the Moss Landing power plant seemed to be coming up out of the morning mist, which spread out in shades of pink and cream. Santa Cruz was filtered through a thin curtain of fog, and everything look photo-still and peaceful.

On the way back down, a path along a row of classrooms was lined by maple trees, leaves yellow, gold and redish-brown. Leaves were still on the trees and also on the ground. On that path were two small boys, bundled up in winter wear, each holding a balloon on a length of ribbon. It was like an old Norman Rockwell scene.

Then, a bit later, back in the car and driving up an off ramp, a red tail hawk flew in front of me and hit the ground, wings out and neck arched. I couldn't see what it had caught, but I knew it had it's breakfast.

Now, two days later, as I walked the neighborhood in the early morning, I saw the first buds and flowers on trees along the road. It is, indeed, the best of all possible worlds.