I read a short story not long ago where estimable Irish literary author Colm Tóibín referred to Point Reyes National Seashore in Northern California in words I do not exactly remember but the general idea was barren and sinister. This interpretation seemed monumentally unfair to me, yet I allowed that Tóibín was probably mentally comparing my favorite local landscape to the legendary west of Ireland which is the brightest and lushest green in the world, according to repute, filled with hospitable dingles and undulations.
Point Reyes on Saturday was fogged in solid. No mistake about that. I climbed one of the trees below and saw how the fog had condensed into water droplets on the parasitic mosses. Up in that tree was where my camera obtained the long view of the Pacific coast (immediately above) – with bays and inlets abounding, but no dingles.