The year ended with dense fog. I was on the roof of the ranch house clearing off leaves and gazing over the shrouded pear orchards. The fog was heavy with bird sound as hundreds of robins congregated to feed on the unharvested vineyards.
Squirrel nests built during the past seasons were now visible in uppermost oak branches.
At mid day the fog suddenly burned off, unveiling the mountain.
A young red-tailed hawk collided with a fence. Our five neighborhood vultures congregated at a the remnants of a roadside burrito. These scenes of winter were not unexpected. The fabric of Big Valley is made of such threads at the nadir of the year.
The beef cattle at JB and Brian's ranch seemed to feel they would exist eternally in their sylvan pasture.
