Santa Cruz

After reading this entry, one might accuse me of posting mediocre photos.  One might accuse me of posting mediocre text.  One might accuse me of getting sidetracked with re-entering American life and forgetting about finishing this blog.  One might accuse me of stalling so that I don't have to confront the deluge of emotions that will certainly arise once I start writing that final wrap up.

One would be correct in their accusations.  I am guilty as charged on all counts.

The rain has stopped, the weather is glorious yet I seem to be incapable of capturing the world around me either on film or with words. I'm stymied by distractions, guilt, and my recent bout of lassitude which threatens to become a full blown case of the kind of torpidity wherein I have to write "brush teeth" on my list of things to do to ensure it actually happens.

It is this very torpor that makes it so tempting to slap some photos up and write "We returned to Santa Cruz.  The End."

Thus would conclude this Zike Bike business.

But I feel you all deserve a bit more than that.  You've followed faithfully along thus far, I can't cop out on you now. And the Europeans want to see Santa Cruz.

What I have to offer, aside from this pathetic ramble of excuses, is only a thin slice.
There are places missing (Pacific Ave, West Cliff) which I should have captured. But I managed to get Rio del Mar and Little Basin: the ocean and the redwoods which is, geographically speaking, what Santa Cruz is all about.

It's also about the unique variety of human inhabitants but I've not got much to show you there.  Just the one measly sample from Lucian's recent field trip.
He's a naturalist who calls himself Dragonfly.  As we hiked through the redwoods he serenaded us with his guitar and songs.  Lucian was quite taken with him.

Should a fit of industriousness strike me in the near future, I will obtain and post more photos of our lovely, eclectic little city.  Until then, I'll be on the couch.

And with that I'll call it a day.