Saturn returns inevitably

Golden Gate, hello!

San Francisco from the Golden Gate Bridge.

Mighty beams

Cute lamp posts

Ah, near sailboat collision!

Goodies from abroad

So it's happened. My birthday has arrived and I'm now 28-years-old. Ok, I know that 28 is by no means old, but it is also--in my mind--by no means young. It's signaling to me a point of no return to the heedless twenties, which I gladly leave behind but no longer have the right to claim. When you're in your twenties you get to make mistakes, or can anyway, without too much thought to consequences. You have resources at your disposal plus plenty of energy and pluck. And most of all, you have time to try things and figure them out. You can be a bit naive to the fact that your actions and decisions have consquences. I think hitting my 30s will also mean never being able to make a decision without some cost/benefit analysis. Ha, as if I couldn't be any more inhibited by thought of potential failures... But all depressive stewing aside, I admit that every year of my life has been better than the previous year. I know myself a little better and own myself more. I learn to admit and forgive my faults more and, god willing, become better at doing the same with the "faults" I see in others. To like where I am is to look forward to where I am going to be. A place with bright windows, amazing potential, and nice hair.

The pictures are from a jaunt across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, something I've always wanted to do since moving here. To celebrate my unavoidable step towards adulthood, or something.

My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the trees...

Ooo, pretty river.

General Grant tree. Ulysses!

Bluebonnets in California

Bambis!

The Sierras are gorgeous. For reals.

Ooo, I liked this creepy tree.

General Sherman! The biggest tree in the world...by volume.

Ahh, you are so cute, Mr. Chipmunk, let me squeeze you!

Shermie's former name was Carl Marx. Interesting.

He's so big he dwarfs the other arbols.

Beautiful view of the Sierras.

The visitor center Critter Talk about ladybugs. There are 400 species in the world and the park has 11. That little boy was ridiculously cute.

Mighty mighty Sequoia

Booker T! Now we need an Obama tree.

An interesting rock message left on a trail. What does it mean...

Ah, the forests were absolutely glorious.

Ok, I know--wrong war, but still patriotic. I spent the fourth on a camping trip friends and new acquaintances in Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Park. It was a good 4-hour drive to get there from Oakland via Fresno. I had never been to the Sierra Mountains. So much beauty in the valleys and rivers. It was also great to be out camping again, though sleeping on the ground doesn't seem to get easier, and I seriously think I got bruises on my hips from trying to sleep on my sides. The trees were gorgeous and enourmous; the tourists were from all over the world; the creek water was toe-freezing cold. The temperature, though, was just perfect. The days were warm but not witheringly hot. The forests were cool on our hikes. One night, we had started a hike late and ended up driving back to our campsite as the sun set and a full moon emerged. We got to enjoy a glorious view of the mountain valley bathed in silver moonlight. Now, that is something. Taking a shower on the second day, was amazing too. Yeah, sleeping in filth with the stench of my own neck wafting back at me constantly in my sleeping bag is not my idea of living life to the max, if you know what I mean. When we were trying to leave, though, the road was closed due to a forest fire. I was worried we'd have to stay another day, but thankfully it got under control and we were able to take off in the late afternoon. It was such a great feeling to be camping again. But for real, I am no wilderness chick. My idea of camping involves a car and flushing toilets. Excellent.