Northern California during autumn,
golden valley, harvested fields, open spaces, geese in flight.
Country roads leading near and far.
Clouds adding texture between the valley and the foothills.
A single tree sets the stage.
A barn in the middle of a harvested rice field.
I grew up in this valley,
under these clouds,
surrounded by rice fields,
in wide spaces,
with long gray paved roads,
and barns in the middle of nowhere, but at the center of our lives.
The foothills north of San Francisco are rolling gold,
The fence post holding nothing in,
are the first sign that my childhood home is nearing.
My heart opens,
I feel the rolling gold, rolling gold, rolling gold.....
Pouring into the Sacramento valley.
Sacha my son often asks, "Why did you leave?"
And my heart stings.
Following your heart is not always easy.
Especially when it divides you in two.
Oh distant geese that fly overhead where are you going?
Rolling gold along the long gray paved road?
I left because I fell in love.
I come back because I am in love.
That is the gift of an abundant harvest.
But toil you must.
At the end of the valley Mount Shasta rises.
What do I see the valley or the mountain, the peak or the valley?
Oh both depending on the day.
A blend makes it interesting, helps to keep one focused.
Blue sky with clouds overhead.
A journey far and wide.
Is not a straight shot.
Blurred are the borders, vast is the horizon,
Home.
