Layer Upon Layer

Soon from my living room picture window I shall watch the dusky fog creep in through the Golden Gate for the last time in fifty-one years as I make the sometimes gentle sometime jerking transition to Sonoma County.
Kodi seems to be ahead of me in the process of adaptation having already made friends with a new pack of dogs ("They just smell each other, as dogs do," Juan the new dog walker says. Wouldn't it be fascinating if people did the same, I chuckle to myself?  Kodi has already found a nice niche in his new yard, squashing a bed of white daisies so it is soft and molded to his furry 90 pound husky shape.  
I'm much slower to shape my own niche, but I am already registered to be in an art show at the community center Oct. 11 and last Saturday I engaged in one of the joys of my new community: the library. It is a large collection of books, tapes, magazines, etc. available to community members on the honor system, that is residents just take what they want, in any quantity, and return them whenever they wish: no signing out required. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all libraries could do the same?
At my new home the sky view from the great room looking east is the sunrise, as seen here.  I'm not sure it will ever match the glories of the sunsets I am used to embracing.

Each day now, even as new friends and experiences surround me, it seems I experience a new level of loneliness and loss. When a realtor in Oakland presented a client's offer to buy Cathy Lane last week she spoke of the serenity of the view with such eloquence that the tears welled up involuntarily deep within me.  Making such a dramatic change is a big deal for this old dame. Dear Lee, I sure miss you in this process, but I think I'm going to encompass it. Maybe with grace? Maybe not.