But here are some pictures to give you a sense for what caught my eye... and what pictures were conjured as well.
These are the harvest moon on Tuesday night as I drove back from Camarillo (aka grief therapy).
It was so stunning, I pulled over to take pictures ... but all I had was my phone, so this is all I got.
I was headed back to get as much packed both for my trip and in preparation for the fumigation.
Since I am on that tack ... here is what the house looks like wrapped in bumble bee skin.
There were these lines of boats on the water, though not lit up, when I left Oxnard on Wednesday morning. But when I arrived back into LAX it was already quite late, dark and too hot to be coastal southern California in the summer...
The first smell that smacked me in the face was so fishy, I was picturing those whole schools of fish that washed up in Long Beach not too long ago.
The deeper I got into Malibu, approaching the Ventura County line, the smells shifted to the ones that recall all the days and nights spent at my uncle's "ranch." When I catch a whiff of the fragrant chaparral, I feel and see the canyon where we fished for tadpoles and stalked around the trees, through the brush, pretending that no one could see us or hear us (despite the crunching of the oak leaves underfoot). I picture Old Boney towering above and now, of course, I think of my sister and her resting place.