Ah, the deep pleasures of return … About fourteen months ago, we were driving from Los Angeles to Santa Fe – with the four cats – for what we thought would be the final time. One of our big pleasures has always been breaking the journey at La Posada, in Winslow – an old Harvey House hotel, where the trains still stop (one passenger train, in each direction, each day, but plenty of freight trains – so good, this evening, to have a driver hoot at us and wave, as we were drinking two cosmos (they make curiously good ones here) and sitting in Adirondack-style rocking chairs watching the trains roll by. But last May or June, we thought this was the last time … and since the place is unique, and full of crazy but wonderful art work, and has fantastic food – much of it local and organic – this was the source of much lamenting. And we love the drive, too – all that sky, and the model dinosaurs silhouetted against the skyline as one heads towards Holbrook, and all the rest of the Route 66 weirdness that runs alongside I-40.
But. Even though we don’t have the cats with us – I’m only absent until Friday – here we are, making our first return drive … this feels very good. Even if – above the sound of the running water in the fountain in the sunken garden outside – there’s the sound of a very, very amateur pianist picking out the chords of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” …
And then there’s the problem of the fact that it seems to be impossible to get on line here. But I’ll forgive that, and post in LA, if I have to … [ which I did ...]
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