The Day We Spent Judgment Day With Mother Nature

I spent Judgement Day at Lake Berryessa.

Despite the sneezing, I'd consider it one of the best days of the year. Fire never rained from the heavens, no white light descended to absorb the non-sinners... The world kept spinning, the clouds kept rolling, the creeks babbled, the birds chirped, the ducks quacked, bugs buzzed, lizards scurried, waves lapped and life continued. I felt closer to paradise than I'd ever been. 

Jenny and Arielle were my companions in the canyon. We trekked up the creek along beaten paths and slippery rocks, ending our hike at the hollowed leftovers of an ancient stone house. We ate sandwiches and observed the natural world, reminding ourselves that the glass and cement existence we call "real" is hardly real at all when compared to the majesty of green mountains and blue skies. We live in a self-constructed cage. Out here, the air is clean and the freedom isn't an illusion. Hiking felt great, despite the allergies, and before leaving Mother Nature, we spent a while swimming in the water of her docile lake. I haven't swam in a while, in a pool or otherwise, and knowing this I hardly hesitated to splash out from the shore. Like riding a bike, or swinging on a rope, swimming has a way of making you feel like a kid again. 

Then Arielle drove us back to Davis, stopping at a taco truck and Trader Joe's on the way, where we spent the evening at the home she's house-sitting. Very warm, eclectic house—belongs to a Scottish woman on a trip to Turkey, I think—and Jenny falls in love with it, takes a thousand photos, and we drink wine and eat cheese and chocolate and play with the cat and listen to folk music. The mellow come-down from nature is capped with a walk around the block and some private time with Jenny in the candle-lit bathroom. A friend of Arielle's arrives to work on homework with her, and Jenny and I head home to Sacramento after sunset so that I can get to bed early, both of us, all of us, survivors of the Judgment Day.

- Left to Fry