Bhí céad ceimeannaí ina Impireacht Intíre ann. Duirt Léna dom go beidh níos fuarú suas ann. Ach, measaim ní raibh sé i bhfad níos fuaire.
Áfach, is maith linn a fheiceáil na sliébhte chomh gar. Bhí cuimhne liom go an scribhneoir agus taiscéalaí mór John Muir nuair a shiúil sé ansin ina sliebhraon Naoimh Gabriel agus Bernardine breis agus céad bliain ó shin. Anois, ar dóigh, níl mórán sé páirceannaí nó úlloird ansuid.
Bhí tráchta is mó ar an bóthar ann. Ní fhaca mé an oiread sin suas ann. Tháinig daoine ag ceannaigh úlla.
Ní raibh muid a aimshú úlla go raibh blásta nó saor. Ach d'imigh Léna, Leon, agus mé ag suí taobh amuigh faoi arbhair; d'imirt teaghlaigh leis madraí. Phioc Léna sútha craobh bideach; d'ith muid blás beag a cheile.
Harvest in Oak Glen
We made a visit to Oak Glen recently. Layne and I went to Redlands. Nearby, there's a higher place, a mile high, in fact.
It was a hundred degrees in the Inland Empire there. Layne told me it would be cooler up there. But, I reckon it was not much colder.
However, it was nice for us to see the mountains so close. I was reminded of the great writer and explorer John Muir when he walked there in the San Gabriel and Bernardino ranges over a century ago. Now, of course, there are not many fields or orchards left up there.
There was so much traffic on the road. I never saw so much up there. People came to buy apples.
There were not apples there that were tasty or cheap. But Layne, Leo and me sat outside under an arbor; families and dogs played. Layne picked tiny sweet raspberries; we ate a tiny taste together.
No comments:
Post a Comment