Russian River, Calif.
May 26, 2001
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If you don't mind discovering the occasional dead mouse that you might discover
when you move an old couch from one corner of the living room to another, there's
an old redwood cabin perched on the hillside above a north-running bend in the Russian
River, where you can sit up until midnight with aunts and cousins and uncles and
nieces, talking about road trips that someone took 60 years ago, or who got a flat
tire somewhere in the 1940s, or how you used to have to cut up your own confetti.
In the morning, your breakfast is liable to be three kinds of chocolate -- two in
muffins and another in liquid form. You can't drive to the cabin; you have to come
in by boat or over mountain path. Which is strong incentive for bringing all the
chocolate you think you may need, and staying put to work your way through it once
<-- (Click to enlarge)