I'd rather be in a trattoria in Venice. By the canal. And a bridge. In the twilight, when the light are turning on but you can still see the day lingering.

Looking at the fire is the primeval pastime we can do forever. Nowdays it mostly happens when we camp. This year I camped twice in a week, on two consecutive weekends! The first time was with the 8th graders, and the second with the 4th graders. With the 8th graders we went to Hendy woods, a tradition started in the 6th grade, the beginning of the middle school. And now it was the last time. Well, we talk about reunions.

There’s nothing like camping in the redwoods near the ocean. Anderson valley is famous for its wineries. Navarro winery is right where you turn off 128 to the woods.

The 8th graders are a thing unto themselves, not needing you. So all that’s left for the parents to do is sit around campfire, drink bourbon, and reminisce.

Small towns on the coasts live by the water. They are on the periphery of the known world for those arriving by boat. The green hills are hiding unknown trails, vistas, dangers, opportunities. There’s a new life on the edge, an alternative life, that could be lived once you step off the boat. You look at the shore as it approaches, and spot a small house with a terrace. There’s a chair, a comfortable chair, and a ledge where you can put your coffee and a book.

If you fly over the edge with a drone, you’ll see it set against the endless expanse of the sea. The land is always small compared to the ocean, when you are on the boundary.