From my studio west facing window, I see an overly abundant apple tree. An overly abundant Myer lemon tree is outside my east window. Their branches bend to the ground with fruit. I live in the hills.

Leaving home to go to the corner store or the art store or the subway station, I go downhill past the new age church which used to have cars lining the road for blocks and blocks on Sundays. I wind further downhill past the Catholic church and the Catholic school. I avoid this around 8 am and 3 pm.

I go down past the huge historic cemetery which used have wild foliage on the edges. Now that is manicured and cleaned up, hardly any deer cross the road; however the deer sign still stands in it’s bright yellow.

Continuing to go down, the cemetery morphs into the country club golf course on both sides of the road until I get to the closed art school and open art supply store.

Leaving home in another direction, towards the swimming pool, I take a left at the end of my road. Just after I go under the pass and before the light, I take a curly sharp right and end up on a big freeway. The freeway takes me to a tunnel which has water it it year round.

If I pass by that curly right and go into the town I will find two groceries, a post office, several cafes, a dispensary and a giant CVS that no one is in.

All of these getaways parallel Highway 13. 13 can be a lucky baker’s dozen or unlucky. It is the earthquake fault line. I live where it is all going to rumble. Seeing LA’s fires, I know northern California is going have that quake. Maybe not when I am around but it’s going to happen. 

Until then, I drive these roads. I take caution and ride through the part of the tunnel that is less wet. Why is it always wet?