Like a kitten in a basket I could see over the woven wicker edge. A
thousand feet below us the sun-flooded valley lay open, green, and a fuzz
of lavender-gray marked where the creek ran for its lilacs had begun to
blossom. Clusters of dark oaks were like bouquets for us.
The hills rippled with light and, toward the sea, the low coast mountains,
scarcely more than hills themselves, were rumpled and offered a wedge
of water in the distance. The air had the freshness of the sea held
within it, up here.