Napa!

Last night we arrived, weary and achy from hours of travel, at the Green Valley Ranch, our friends' home in Napa. We met up with Bruce near a Denny's where we followed him through the winding roads and up the several-miles-long driveway that led to his home, a sprawling expanse of corrugated metal and glass (way nicer than it sounds). I can't tell you how hard it was to tear myself from a newly under the weather Olive when she and my mom dropped us off at the airport. The night before she was stricken with a throaty cough and fever that made her want to do little but lay limply on my chest, regularly turning her head to cool her burning neck and cheek. Part of me considered forgoing the much-antipated trip to stay with her, but once we saw Bruce, then pulled in at the ranch, I knew I'd have no reservations about being away. The fatigue was dulled by the reunion over a light dinner of Moroccan lentil soup (the same recipe my mother uses) and a loaf of olive-studded bread. I would've loved to stay up past eleven, but it was already two in Eastern Standard Time, and I'd been awake since 5:30 so we retreated to our wing of the house that consists of a guest room, Bruce's music room, and a bathroom. With a light rain hitting the corrugated metal roof over our heads, I slipped into a remarkably quick sleep. In the morning I woke to see the ranch in daylight:

I stared around the acres and acres (there are one thousand here) of green, rolling hills dotted with rocks, trees, and cattle. We came down for breakfast at 8:30, talked olive oil and tasted spoonfuls of their supply, then were treated to another of Romeo's divine meals. His chanterelle hash was wonderful. Biodynamic local strawberry and apricot jams were also heartbreakingly good. I ate, for the first time, fried poached eggs. Pretty nice.

Bruce took us in his car for a tour around the ranch, over miles of road that cover the property, showing me good places to run. We ran into a beekeeper delivering bees, setting them out to do what they do amongst the wildflowers that began opening in today's sun. Rob spied a rocky bluff in the distance and declared that he'd like to hike to that point, so when we got back to the house, he, the dogs, Iggy and Annie, and I took off to scale the hillside.

"Robber's Ridge" is that rocky outcropping on the far left of the hill

It was a glorious hike, and the weather, which was overcast earlier in the morning, had turned warm and bright. It was, without question, the best hike I'd ever taken. A brief run followed, then Bruce suggested that the four of us go up to St. Helena to check out some of the olive oil shops. The drive there took us all the way through the Napa Valley, where I was stunned by the number of vineyards; the uniform rows of grapevines and gargantuan wineries was dizzying. If I was a wine drinker I'd have gone round the bend, I think, but as it was, I was fixated on the olive trees. When we got to St. Helena the oil shop Bruce had had in mine was closing as we got there, but I was able to take some pictures and gather some ideas for my business. We popped into another store, Olivier, and sampled their oils and vinegars. While not blown away by what they had, I did decide that I absolutely must one day get copper fustis to hold my oils. They're beautiful things.

We strolled the streets for a while, then went to dinner at one of their favorite restaurants, the Rutherford Grill. I was taken by this statue outside: a pesky-looking raven perched atop a pig. Bruce took our picture. Dinner was fantastic: focaccia and olives, an impossibly good kale salad, and chilean sea bass, and a dessert - a take on the Oreo cookie with fudge sauce, ice cream, and whipped cream, which we all shared.

It's been a full day since we got here and already it's the best vacation I've ever taken. And I do miss Olive. It's a strange feeling to not have her with us, but I'm also pleased with how well she's doing with my parents, and how well they're doing with her. They really take care of her the same way we do, which is an enormous relief, and I know she's in the best hands with them. From what we've been told, she hasn't shown many signs of separation anxiety. She just asked my mom this morning if "Papa would be back soon." Dear girl. The next six days will go by so quickly, and I'm so looking forward to seeing her again, but until then I'm going to savor my time here in this magical place.

Bruce and Romeo's house

The view from the top of "Robber's Ridge", where, if the stories are to be believed, bandits would sit to shoot at stagecoaches.