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My name is Michael Newman, I am studying creative writing at the University of San Francisco. I am just trying to get my thoughts and writings out there into the world and very open to critique so, let me know!

Monday, February 20, 2012

Napa For The Mind

     Wow, I never realized how much of a different life is within 60 miles of my San Francisco apartment and this finding could not have come at a better time. The semester is now going at light speed, the reading and writing is picking up and before I know it, it's going to be summer and I'll forget it all. Stress has been building and added to my missing of home and family, I needed a break.
     We got to Napa around 6pm on Friday. We would have arrived sooner but we needed to stop for some "Northern California" mexican food (because they put rice in their burritos. us "so-calians" find it humorous) and some ribs and goodies. Sweet Tea Arizona? I think yes. A shirt that has a banana-moon smoking a cigar just because we can? Throw that one in too.
     Once we got back on the road it was smooth sailing until we arrived at the house which sits on Malk Vineyard, which has the logo of a pit bull. The drive up was astounding. Fading back and forth between tree covered darkness and revitalizing bursts of sun that made their way between the branches. Although it became semi-difficult to drive through this rave of exposure, my body welcomed the challenge. Winding in and around fields, vineyards, cows and hills, I found myself feeling far enough from the city to let my walls down. The lone country road that gave my eyes a test and put my heart back in motion.
     Pulling up to the house I felt like a pro, like it was no big deal. A steady 17mph down the narrow  road comprised of dirt, gravel and soil, nearing the house but unable to decipher its location due to the abundance of foliage covering its face, I wasn't phased; pretending I have done something like this many times, but who was I fooling? I'm excited!
     We finally get through the wooden, swing-open gate and up the gravel driveway, to the green and brown finished wooden garage door. To the right there are walls of unevenly stacked stones, intriguingly close to straightly-lined but unsettling close to not, surrounded by yellows, pinks and greens of earth dwellers. To the left is another stone wall leading my eyes around the front of the house, which is technically the back, just feels more front like to me (with the view and all). I follow the stones around the house and onto the deck. The wood creeks beneath my feet and I say hello in return. The front of the house is all done in a nice, dark wood, and the deck to match. Walking over to a spot that slowly became my spot on the deck, I was amazed at the sepia colors bursting through the trees. The shadows and the golden ring that formed around the leaves struck by light were astonishing. Looking out over field and fields of anticipated grapes helped me visualize my distance from the city. If I can only see as far as 7 fields. I can only imagine there are at least 10,000 between myself and reality. It was comforting.
      I knew I was on vacation when I could look down at my feet, caressing each rickety contour of the deck, and not wonder where they should be. It was my time to relax, and my feet fell to 2 1/2 feet off the ground, posted up on a wooden stool. Three legs and a top, the simplest comfort, the simplest mind.


More thoughts from my trip to come!
P.S. Sorry if there are typos, It is early and I'm hungover. Just a casual type. But feel free to make fun of me!

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