A rather tardy entry in Laurie's absence. It's Saturday, after a light rain over night. A drop in the bucket, really. With the lack of rain this winter, the southern part of the state never got out of Fire Season. January wildfires fueled by the Santa Ana winds off the desert. We are in for one long hot summer out here on the Left Coast.

If there is any complaint about living here, it's distance. Too far from Europe, from friends and evenings walking the deserted 3am Venetian streets. Too far from research in the British Library and strolling among standing stones on a winter's afternoon. Too far from lingering over late night dinners, hanging "signs" at 5am, taking a boat to the Lido for beachcombing after a winter storm. Too much distance between the coasts which must be travelled before crossing the pond.

I'm spending my evenings creating a hand embroidered quilt and last night, around midnight, I heard coyotes and an owl in the vineyards. Today we cleaned up the firepit in preparation for after Easter dinner, when we'll gather around a bonfire and tell stories, maybe sing a song or two. These days in Paradise are numbered - it's stolen time, I know. My leaving here is inevitable. I left my heart in a Roman ruin somewhere and I am destined to continue what will be a lifetime dig in order to find it. But for now, I am content.