careening up the coast

Last week I visited my beloved Mt. Calvary community of monks, who now live at St. Mary's Convent in Santa Barbara. The devastating fire that destroyed the brothers' home and the spiritual home of many of us happened two years ago. This was the first time I had been back to visit. It was joyful and poignant and refreshing. Mostly it was wonderful to catch up with the brothers, pray the Divine Office with them, celebrate the Eucharist, eat at the long table, and talk about "now".

The retreat for me always includes the drive down 101...the  sights and smells of the Salinas Valley; garlic and artichokes, turned-over dirt, workers bent over in the fields, trucks loaded with produce. I love that valley that John Steinbeck brought to the world.

On my way back, I stopped at the Steinbeck Museum in Salinas and then drove like mad to make it by sunset to  pebble beach...not "the" Capital P Pebble, but the rocky cove just north of Bean Hollow beach, in between Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay, where beautiful pebbles take the place of sand and where the light is always magical. I pulled into the parking lot at the perfect time, and despite some creepy guys who arrived in a van, I spent about half an hour with my camera and the ever-changing sea and sky. I was thankful for the quiet time and for the light that stayed before me, then went down over the horizon.