Mountain vs. Hill

When my friend Ruth visited, I took her kayaking in Clear Lake. As a good host, I pointed out various features in and around the lake. When I pointed to Mount Konocti and identified it, she look perplexed and queried, "Are you talking about that hill?" I stammered and replied that it was our mountain and that it even would get snow in the winter. She shook her head in disbelief. I was happy to see the following from the Academy of Sciences, "The difference between a mountain and a hill is poorly defined, but a mountain typically refers to a landmass that projects more than 1,000 feet above its surroundings." Since Mt. Konoct is slightly over 4,000 feet, I herald it as a proper mountain. The Academy of Science website goes on to say,
"Mountains are landforms that rise at least 1,000 feet above the surrounding landscape. Taller mountains intercept moving clouds, forcing rain and precipitation onto their slopes. Most of the world’s rivers are fed by mountain sources. Half of humanity depends on mountains for drinkable water. Although temperatures grow cooler at higher elevations, life thrives at every level of the montane environment, from the surrounding lowlands to highest mountain peaks." These past few weeks have afforded us wonderful opportunities to be spectators of the dancing changes of clouds, colors and weather on our beloved mountain. I'm thankful for the mountain and all the wonderful people working to place it in conservancy.

The State Park is magical. Picture yourself camping here. Imagine waking up and drinking your tea and coffee overlooking the lake. When I was walking here Sunday I saw a red shafted woodpecker, egrets, herons, hawks and countless songbirds. I feel so fortunate to live in such a beautiful place.

State Park in Kelseyville

Gentle as a dead friend's hand

Resting on my shoulder

This autumn sunshine

Kushadao

Come forth into the light of things,

Let nature be your teacher.

William Wordsworth

No matter how lovely the journey out of the county, I am always joyfully at home upon returning. It doesn't seem to matter from which direction I re-enter the county, there is always a noticeable "thunk" of "rightness" as I re-enter. This evening coming home on Highway 20, the light was at the magical hour. I didn't consciously think, "Ahhh, we're back in the county," yet there was that moment when the wonder hit. I was reminded of Einstein's line, "There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle, The other is as though everything is a miracle." I'm enjoying the miracles of this wonderful place.