12/11: The Best Place
Northern California, just north of San Francisco. D, L, and I were on our way to Sonoma when we realized we missed our exit. At the same time we turned off the highway, storm clouds hung low over the dry hills. Gray swept unapologetically across the sky.
Something was about to happen, I thought and pulled out my camera. Just then a flock of birds angled in and golden rings of light fell onto the dry hills. I might have gasped a little as I watched the filmic scene unfold before me.