top 10 things I miss about Calistoga

10. folks from home asking you about California wine, and having nothing to say, because locals never go wine-tasting. and because your roommate works for an importer, so all you drink is French wine anyway.

9. biking 3 miles and almost fainting (when you could bike 13 in Houston and not blink)

8. dreadlocked 20- and 30-somethings far outnumbering all other minority groups

7. "Old Faithful," the unreliable geyser, Calistoga's natural wonder of the world

6. the only place to go out in Calistoga is the Inn, which closes at 12am. after that, you go to Suzie's. but chances are, if you're going to Suzie's, you should actually be going home.

5. even the dinkiest gas stations sell American Spirits

4. 75% of the conversations you overhear are about growing a) grapes or b) pot

3. not dying while driving home drunk 3+ times a week on what has to be America's most dangerous road (barely 2 lanes, precipice on either side, steep, slick, hairpin curves spanning two valleys...)

2. potato bugs

1. gallon-sized ziploc bags full of pot. for free. because they like you. and because, you know, it grows on trees there.

Harpersville, AL

Scrub grass and grey pines and a field of horses, three white and two brown. Sinking into creek bank mud to push off the kayak. We drift imperceptibly slow, cut the water sometimes, with oars inexpertly arced, to examine the wet walls of the creek, holed out by innocent currents, perhaps, or crafty, unseen creatures. The rising blades drip water on our arms, on our legs. An arm of the river unbends and upon an outcropping of stump and mud and stick there is an animal, a beast, thick of tail and neck, with claws and sharp lips, a turtle whose shell no longer houses it. It is immune to our curiosity, our interference. We are awed; we are frightened. It is mightier than we.

On land again we regard the goats, twisted horns, rectangular pupils, beguiling docility. "Do you think she's pregnant? Feel her belly. She feels fat. Are you going to have kittens, Lola? You're a scrappy cat, Lola, my kind of cat."