On the tailgate of my truck, in the shadow of El Capitan, I fired up my camp stove. In a small frying pan, I cooked chicken breasts. Coated with bread crumbs and parmesan cheese. Served with cold asparagus. On dark green tin plates.

Sid is here. Reading email on his laptop beside me on the porch. The smell of new grass. Wildflowers. In bloom in the meadow.

Berkeley. An Indian restaurant on Oxford Street. Hot red-brown curry dishes. Fried vegetables of many kinds. Cucumber and yogurt sauce. Mint sauce the color of the woods in spring.

With Jerry and a girl who tagged along.