I decided I needed a mental therapy day so I took a drive to the ocean. This time of year is when we are as dry as we are going to get in California, so the fields on the ranches on Highway 20 are all dry. This field full of yellow flowers is the only one in bloom on the entire trip. I pulled over to take this picture and a local in his big red pickup stopped and rolled down his window. He said something I didn't hear because of the road noise and because I think I'm going deaf. He gave up and drove on. I wonder what he was trying to say, "It's my ranch, go on in and have it all to yourself.", or "Watch out the fence is electrified."? The part of California heading East/West on Hwy 20 is ranching country so I saw lots of horses, some cattle, a few sheep, a couple of llamas, and one dog.
There is a huge resort area at Clear Lake. Every time I wanted to stop and take a picture there was no pullout. Every time there was a pullout there were trees blocking the view. Oh, well.
200 miles and 4 hours after leaving home I arrived in Fort Bragg on the coast in Northern California. I went to a couple of places that I remembered had bird supplies. I wanted some thistle seed and a new feeder. One of the places was out of business and the other one didn't carry bird supplies. I guess my memory is going in addition to my hearing.
I gave up on the bird things and went to the beach to read and feel the salty air for awhile. Very nice.
On the way home I stopped at one of those historical markers of which we have so many on California roads. They are all brass plaques attached to boulders or brick columns. In Europe there are tour guides to explain their history. For example, in Germany they might say, "And France burned down this cathedral in the 1600's. It took several hundred years of peon labor to rebuild, etc., etc." We have historical markers to help us remember when our brave military massacred women and children. The view on the right is the direction one would look to see the area where the massacre took place.
Not far away there is another of the ubiquitous indian casinos. This one is at Robinson Rancheria, belonging to the Pomo Tribe. I hope they make a bundle of money!
I guess my mental therapy day didn't help much. I wonder what my attitude would have been if I'd stayed home?