I have had a love affair with the Great Valley of California for 71 years. I lived on ranches, in towns, and camped and fished
along its rivers. I received much of my education there. I played baseball on its parched grass of summer. I have skied its canals. I have
picked its fruit, nuts, and berries. I met and married the greatest love a man could have who was born, raised, and educated there. There was a comfort in being surrounded by the huge mountainous escarpments their foothills in sepia and ochre their hoary head mantled in porphyria. Nothing is more beautiful than when hundreds of miles of poppies, lupine, and Indian paintbrush blossom in the spring on rolling foothills dressed in green grass and blossoming peach, apricot, and almond trees provide a lush color and texture of carpet across the flatlands. Unless it is the sight of one million shades of amber on its undulating foothills like crumpled velvet during late summer and autumn.
I have since I could remember, wanted to put pen to paper and share just a fraction of what I have beheld and experienced there. There are mysteries deeply rooted in that land. When the tule fog comes in mid-winter, you can't even pierce through the grayness to see your feet as your legs disappear at your knees. It becomes eerie. Sound is amplified and eyesight is useless. In this magnificent rich majestic bounty and in its spectral nature, I have cast the story of two waifs excommunicated but, for each other. They are drawn to each other through the enchantment of enigmatic bonding by their superordinary gifts. We will see if that is enough.
YOU ARE READING
Mystics of the Tuolumne
ParanormalA boy and a girl communicate through telepathy. The boy is from a rich powerful white family. The girl is a half-breed. They are outcast but for each other. Will they fall in love? Will his parents accept it if they do? Will they overcome their...
