Let the mourning begin

We'll start with my drive home - from church, the grocery store, pretty much everywhere:

Too bad it was garbage day when I took these pictures.  (And my windshield was so dirty.)   You can't even imagine how beautiful the light is in the early morning, streaming down through those trees.  I mean, these pictures were taken on my little cruddy camera through a dirty windshield while driving.  (Yeah, not super safe.)  Seeing the real thing is still breath taking to me on any given day.  I know, I know, southern California?  Look at all the deodors.  Someone from Pasadena who looked at our house when it was still up for sale said, "It looks like Oregon up here!"  She was right.  It's very unexpected.  So quiet and peaceful.  Just tonight I saw a coyote running around the neighborhood, and then we get these beautiful hawks circling overhead in our backyard.  Here's a pic Kate took:

There are some homes that have deodors, palms, deciduous and even cactus all in the same yard.  It's like my friend Amy (from San Diego, but now in Utah) said to me (longingly) when I told her I was moving here four years ago, "Anything can grow in California."  And it does.  Anything and EVERYTHING.  The variety of plants and flowers and vines and bushes and trees . . . it's one of my very favorite things about living here.

Another fun thing about living up here is that in one of those pics is the parking lot of my kids' school on the left, and if you are facing the opposite direction you can actually see downtown L.A. in the distance.  You just DON'T feel the city is that close, even though it is.

Our street really is exceptionally beautiful, which is one reason why I think our house sold so fast.  (Location! Location!)

And I'm leaving it behind.  So I'm mourning.

(I'll try not to belabor this whole mourning thing, but it must be done.  I like closure and moving on whole heartedly.)