Morning on the Ridge

I’m getting to know my new road and my new commute. You have probably figured out that I am enraptured by my new house, so it’s probably not all that surprising that I am totally charmed by my new ridge as well. To my eyes, it is prettier than the old one and seems a little more upscale, if such things are possible in the depths of the country. I love the archways of trees:

as well as the stately redwoods.

The road starts (or ends, depending on how you look at it), at the ocean, with a spectacular view:

And a warning:

I have to admit I have not driven the entire length of the road, so when it actually ends or disappears remains a mystery.

I can’t drive this ridge as fast as I drove the old one, partly because I don’t know it as well – I have driven the old one, I realize, for about 25 years despite only living here for 10 – and partly because of things like this one lane redwood bridge:

I’m always afraid I’m going to meet someone on it and have to back up. I’m not great at backing up at the best of times, and backing up onto a narrow road running along a ridge with an elevation of close to 700 feet above sea level is not a fun prospect. It reminds me of when my brother and sister lived on boats at Pier 39 and I asked them if they had ever fallen in the water. Their opinion was, “There’s them that have and them that will.” I’m afraid this is also the case here.

The new Ridge seems both higher and narrower than the old one. There are country hazards:

And I live past the “pavement ends” sign:

I’ll tell you a secret: the pavement doesn’t really end. Or at least I haven’t found where it does. Yet.

A YEAR AGO: The whole county was on fire.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Catching up on this and that.

TEN YEARS AGO: I sold my beautiful diamond ring out of economic necessity. Really regret that now.