i like to sleep with the
windows open even in
winter. mom says the
mountains are the most
alive at night when you
can’t really see them as
the vines lie all around
you in the darkness feel-
ing very warm and very
curious and then there’s
that totally incredible, to-
tally echoing silence—
when all the world seems
to be asleep, at peace
with itself—except for
the frogs and crickets
and one or two screech
owls. oh, and there’s
usually some butt on a
full-race ducati blasting
up big basin road. and
yeah, i guess you can
sometimes hear a few
coyotes yipping—but
they’re always way off in
the distance—way over
there—in the deepest,
in the very saddest heart
of the the santa cruz.