Oh, you visitors to the Bay area who say, “Take me to Napa Valley, let me drink wine.” I indulge them of course, I’m a good host, but eventually, I take them down miles of winding roads that may get them carsick, climb over the hillocks amongst the staked out vineyards and pause there, point to a random small house on the far horizon, then I quote Norman MacLean’s epic conclusion to a River Runs Through It.
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.”
Having said such a thing, some smart ass will always point out that there’s no water in sight, but that’s not the point, is it? My point is that as far as scientists can tell, all brontosauruses are thin at one end, much, much thicker in the middle, and then thin again at the far end. Q.E.D.
Prepping to be off to Africa in the coming day, and then a truly grand trip begins.
