This is the road to Hollister. Dan liked the clouds and I liked the green hills.
I overheard a conversation a while ago in the international arrivals area at SFO. An Englishwoman was picking up her Mom (sorry, Mum), and she told someone she was glad her mother was visiting in the spring, because at least the mountains would be green. To her the burnt yellow grass of summer was sad, and nothing she wanted her mother to see. I think the yellow is beautiful, but I find the green really hopeful. I saw a painting of emerald hills once that made me want to be a cow. They looked tasty.
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