This has been one productive day for No. 1 and I. We have packed, cleaned and organized, and now most of her space looks like this:
This morning, faced with a day of work, we decided to ease into the task by not doing it. Instead, we drove up steep, narrow roads to Tilden Park, a vast reserve with great views of the bay like this one—we sat on huge fallen logs, spilled our coffee and watched little lizards dart back and forth, and we took pictures:
Then we meandered back down into town and to a park within walking distance of our house to explore the Himalayan Festival. I don't know the name of this park, but it's in the middle of a residential area and it's nothing but tall trees and bridges and a winding creek so that you forget you're Berkeley and think instead that you're in a woodsman's retreat. The festival stalls were placed in around these trees and bridges, and you wind your way around paths to find tables of jewelry and bags and shawls. There were Tibetan drums and cymbals playing, and clothes from Nepal for sale, and incense from all over that made the air smell a bit intoxicating. I found myself leaning in to stalls with wafting trails of smoke and breathing deeply.
Most of the place looked like this:
We settled for lunch at an Indian stand, and I ordered a kind of fried chicken wrap with mint pesto and salad, and we found a curb to sit and enjoy a wonderful lunch—in wonderland. This is what mine looked like:
Back home, we tackled our to-do lists and talked and giggled, and we've made good progress. It's been a good day.