You know those posts I did a few weeks back, about how warm it was here?    Well, scratch that.  Winter’s back, baby.

The cold rain returned just in time for our long-anticipated, far- too-long-in-coming romantic getaway.  Scott and I left the boys with my parents for two entire days and nights and headed to Marin for some couple time.  (I will be starting my parents’ canonization process shortly.)    And the first day we got to our little hotel hideaway on Mount Tamalpais, it was pouring. We’re talking  buckets here — and it was so cold that there was actually snow up on the peak.  SNOW!

Luckily, the second day we were there, the skies cleared enough to take in the views of the forests and bay, which were truly stunning.

We also went on a hike, which is an activity I vaguely remember from the pre-child years.

The trail was muddy, but oh, it was gorgeous, with mossy trees and little purple flowers here and there and wonderful hidden waterfalls along the path.  It was very Lord of the Rings; you kept expecting to see Orlando Bloom running around tossing his blonde locks and brandishing his bow.

We descended into Muir Woods, where were walked among the trees, along with visitors from around the world.  (San Francisco tourists who want to see redwoods invariably go to Muir Woods.)  As a California native, I have to admit that I take redwoods for granted.  I shouldn’t; they’re amazing.   A tree that has been around for one thousand years?  That’s cause for awe.

The only bad thing about the hike was that the way back was all uphill.  There was an astonishing number of nearly-vertical stairs on the trail, which were an unavoidable reminder of how out-of-shape I really am.  But it was still worth it: the fresh air, the smell of soil and leaves and woodsmoke from nearby homes, the sight of the ocean from the ridge by the hotel, the sweep of the hills and the lushness of the trees.  I kept thinking of the first line from Longfellow’s “Evangeline”:  “This is the forest primeval.  The murmuring pines and the hemlocks.”   Throw “redwoods” in there as the last word, and you’d just about capture it.

And my tired self loved having a late lunch on the deck.

It was also heaven to take a nice soak in the tub.  I never take baths at home; somehow, sharing the space with foam alphabet letters and assorted Little People is not conducive to relaxation.  It was total bliss to stretch out in the hot bath-salted water, book in hand, and to know that a nice dinner awaited me.  It was even better to know that a handsome, smart, amusing dinner companion awaited me.  And that was really the best part of  whole weekend: the chance for Scott and me to really talk, to have the space and time to relax into big  conversations that we never get to have at home.

Good hike, good food, good views, great guy.  That’s a pretty nice weekend, even with the mud.

Comments are closed.