I’m thinking this morning about the cherry stands that dot the road south to the Monterey peninsula, through Gilroy. In summer.

How the sweet, juicy flesh feels on my tongue.

How when I see the cherry stands I know I’m halfway there. How the Pacific Ocean awaits on my right, roaring and crashing. I can even see the Monterey pines on Highway 1.

How joyful that drive always is for me. How amazing it is that this one specific landscape feeds my soul.

It’s been only a few months, but it’s too long. My soul longs to be fed.