Wedding week.

On Saturday, Mitch and Supriya get married in front of friends and family. This week is a flurry, which I shall not specify, except to say that we were putting together the playlist for the dancing and it includes music from Bollywood movies, Basement Bhangra, and your classic rock hit list. And we wrote a tune for a Buddhist peace song. And I still have to prepare my remarks. But it is going to be great. Is what I am telling myself, and I am right: it is going to be great.

We started the week by going up to the cabin of some of my son Isaac's friends. They have made the most lovely, fanciful and imaginative lives on some property up in some mountains, where there's no water and no improvements except for those they themselves make with their own sweat, ingenuity, and artistry.

It takes about 45 minutes on a dusty, rutted, rocky road, once you leave the freeway. And about two thirds of the way there, we always think, this had better be good. But it always is. This was the first time several of us had ever been there (the historian and I have been twice before). It was wonderful, with time for a little hike, lots of exploring, and a gorgeous sunset that lasted forever. And an owl, that flew over the meadow in a lingering sort of way. And a hawk that woke us up this morning, and when we opened the door, it fanned its feathers, as if preening the air.

And stars, thick and innumerable, when we stepped out on our porch somewhere in the indeterminate hours between falling asleep and getting up for good.

Deacon and Will, looking for wildlife.

The Gypsy Wagon, where the historian and I spent the night.

hike up a little incline.

Daisy the mountain dog.

three high hills.

Curt, dispensing excellent financial advice.

Mitch.

Gwen, taking the full measure of a hiking hat.

the lovely Supriya.

Van, checking his bad self out.

After the hike, yo. (Isaac & Lesley & Van)

Will.

At sunset.