This is the scene that greeted us as we sat over brunch. It is pretty representative of the rolling hills where winemaking rules.

All of the outbuildings on this property are handsome and color-coordinated (not a tarp in sight).

Even the chicken coop, home of the hens responsible for saffron hued yolks we had just dined upon, carries out the architectural theme.

In the garden of an artist, you are likely to find installations like this totem tucked in with the plant compositions.

As well as pots containing interesting plant life and artifacts.

The first time I came here, I was asked if I had visited “the tree”. Uh…how will I know it when I see it? Answer: you’ll know. Yeah, sure. I wandered out back, spotted a really big tree, and thought OK, this must be it. Then I looked a little further, and Oh My God!

This thing is gimungous! I can’t even begin to imagine how old it must be.

Leaning against it is something like communicating with your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother.

And now… for the strangeness I promised you yesterday.

Driving to the party, this was what made us think “whaaa…? We have to check this out on the way home.

So we pulled over and took this picture, even though the light was totally wrong. See the house back there behind the trees?

There was a wide gravel driveway along the side of the house, and I noticed a man and a boy back there working a wheelbarrow. I asked if they minded if I walked back there a ways to photograph their trees (ever notice how much one can get away with holding a camera?). The man was not real talkative, but said “sure”. I commented that the pruning made these fir trees look a bit like palms, and that got him going. Turns out that they wanted to be able to see the rolling hills and the groves of oaks across the road from their house. They must have gotten the idea from a neighbor down the road a piece. Similar pruning had taken place there (not quite as extreme), and the trees seem to have recovered.