welcome to Gold Country
There is a different kind of traffic up here. its not fueled by gas and it doesn’t stop and go. its patient. It waits. It heaves big breaths of space and silence. Its in the trees. It hides.
My mothers backyard, here in Placerville, California, the city where gold was discovered, is about 3 acres radius behind her one story house. there is a large wooden deck, which her husband built himself 7 or 8 years ago, when they first bought the house. a stone walkway runs from the back of the house to the deck, and from the middle of it splits left, leading to the hot tub. Me and my brother usually wait until everyone has gone to bed, roll a spliff, then go outside to sit in the hot tub and stare at the stars in the clear black sky. There are often so many you can spell out your name with them, like a cosmic autograph on the universe. I know that sounds dumb and sentimental, but its true. if you are ever under the night and see a billion lights, try finding your name in them, its like seeing you face done up in glitter on gods favorite tshirt.
i took a walk around the property, dont below the deck, where no one ever really goes. There is a shed with a riding lawnmower. That sits next to another shed with things like shovels and saws and hoses and wheelbarrows. These are at the bottom of the grassy hill will extends from the back of the house, the large wooden deck is at the top of it, with some patio furniture and a industrial size barbecue grill. Looking beyond the shed, into a valley and up another grassy hill peppered with oak trees, is someone elses property, the next door neighbors, I suppose. There I saw two sheep, grazing in the grass, their wool was thick and warm looking. I wondered if the neighbors were going to shave it. My guess is they probably will.
I saw a family of deer. Or maybe they weren’t related and were just friends, hanging out on a Saturday night, eating flowers and shit. They looked sort of young, teenagers maybe, and weren’t startled when we pulled up in the car with the high beams in their eyes. They just kinda sat there and stared at us, then when we got out of the car and they saw we hadn’t brought any beer to the party, got up and shuffled off, annoyed that we had busted in on their scene. Whatever dude, fucking teenage deer. Ungrateful pricks.
The rattlesnakes are sleeping, so we let the kitty out at night. But he doesn’t leave for long, he knows if he does, the bobcats will get him eventually.