The Road Home

The clouds hung low and swollen with the thought of rain as we started the long drive home.  Rain drops spotted the windshield and cleared the heavy air.  We wound down the highway past the wineries of Paso Robles.  Each one tempting the weary traveler with promises of sips of their finest and nibbles of aged cheese.  The looming iron gates open to winding driveways, dumping drivers and passengers at opulent brick structures intimidating to novice oenophiles.  We flew by them with other destinations on our minds.  Grapevines laden with orbs glowing yellow in the filtered air flashed by.  Vineyards gave way to straw-colored hills, parched and unwelcoming, dotted with an occasional green tree and lazy cow.  Utility poles stood sentinel as far as the eye could see and pointed the way to abandoned oil derricks standing like frozen hobby horses amongst the scrub.  The clouds finally broke open spilling their contents and washing the world clean.  Home beckoned and finally greeted us with open arms as only family can do.

Saying good-bye to little number 3

Wineries

Endless fields of nothingness

Abandoned skeletons of derricks

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