Ribbon of Mist

The morning dawned foggy and cold and the Sunday papers were nothing but awful, depressing news, but Ozzie was ready to go and hounded us off the couch and into our clothes for a walk. 

We didn't take him as far as he would have liked, since we had a little test for him. For reasons we don't understand, ever since we got a new car, he refuses to lie down in it, even on long trips. We thought we might take him with us later in the week to visit family in Southern California, and OilMan  proposed putting him in the back seat of his car to see how he would do there on a longish drive.

We decided to go north to Redwood Valley near Ukiah where OilMan's grandparents once had a big farmhouse and a pear orchard on top of a hill. It seemed as good a reason as any for a longish drive to see if the farmhouse survived the fires up there earlier this summer.

The mist was clearing to a narrow band against the Mayacamas Mountains (the same hills that rise behind our house 30 miles away) and Ozzie was still refusing to lie down, so we turned around and took the scenic back roads across the Alexander Valley to Napa Valley and back across the hills on Calistoga Road into Sonoma County and and home again. We passed Tubbs Lane where the massively destructive Tubbs fire was started last year by a spark from a power line, and could trace the path of the fire by the burned trees beside the road. 

Most of the grapes in the valley have been harvested now  and the vines are turning. It is remarkable to see how many vineyards there are tucked into the hills at the foot of Geyser Peak.. The vines will be dormant for the winter and the winery workers will soon have a chance to rest and recover from the frantic activity of the crush.

Ozzie was lying down the moment OilMan turned off the car's engine and before we could even open the doors. We are none the wiser as to why he is so anxious in the car when he used to be so calm in the other car that we would forget he was back there. Clearly it has something to do with the movement of the car, but since we cannot get him to my brother's house without driving him there he has failed the test and will have to stay home. 
 
Except for the dog panting in my ear from the back seat, I was reminded of the 'Sunday Drives' with my family when I was a child, often into the San Gabriel Mountains . It seems that all my life I have lived in foothills for they have provided a backdrop in almost every place I have lived.