It's friday night and I'm experiencing a post-trip crash. A little sadness. I miss our new friends from the farmlands. As I sit here, writing from my houseboat, I'm wondering what they are all up to this evening.
I'm picturing RivenRock's fierce guard dog, Whitey, dashing about, (all 3-4 pounds of him) as John hauls stones into the cacti garden and Vickie heads off to her evening caretakers job.
I'm seeing Bill and Delia gathered around their vast dining room table with their endless stream of guests. And I'm remembering the distant shrill howl of coyotes that lulled me to sleep in their house last Monday night.
Are Tracey and Carole hard at work in their home offices in Ojai, overseeing the unrelenting growth of their Edible empire? And what about Dan at Sunny Acres? Will he have new battles to fight next week as he struggles to maintain a legal right to house members of his farm-based addiction recovery program?
Did Gary the landscape architect make it back to San Deigo in that bad-ass orange car of his?
My motorcyle has been parked for two days. Resting until we hit the road again. Soon we'll ride.