Sunday, October 23, 2011

I accompanied the Resident Shrink from the Bay Area to Oregon this weekend, so she could attend a memorial service for a friend.  We drove over to the Central Valley and up, rather than the longer, more scenic, coast route.

This time of year in this part of California, the hills are golden brown.  A little rain has fallen, meaning the hills are not quite so dry, but they are not yet the verdant shade of green they get later in the season.

We went through Vacaville.  Vacaville is not the most liberal place in the world; when people talk about how liberal California is, they are not talking about Vacaville (or much of the Central Valley, either). 

Coming into town on I-580, we saw a single word burned into the golden grass on a hillside:


Even in the most unlikely places, you can find harbingers of unrest.

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