I am descending the Camarillo grade.
Halfway down I see nothing but clouds. The entire landscape is obscured from view.
It’s quite pretty this morning, in a chilly sort of way, and as I approach Exit 50 fog appears.
I can still see the tail lights of the cars ahead of me, and the sound wall, and the curves as I approach, but it’s getting denser now and the road signs are slightly obscured.
Today’s going to be a beautiful day even though at the moment I can’t see it.
Moments like these remind me to be thankful for this place that I live and the people in my life.
Written 28 Oct ’18, before the fires.
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.
Whether you like it or not, the Shepards’ thoughts and prayers are/were with you.