Tonight was the thirteenth annual Las Posadas celebration in Sutter Creek. I was on the sound truck with Neil and Brent, our pinch hit guitarists. The days have been clear and not unseasonably cold. Bob Fyock estimated that six hundred people followed the procession. From the sound truck I could see the crowd with their candles stretching back all the way up Main Street.
The keys on the electric piano were damp when we met to rehearse. The cold and damp do not bother me except for my feet. Having heard me complain about my feet forever, MJ gave me two pair of wool socks. Cotton just does not cut it, no matter how thick.
Buena Vista Road had fog tonight. My favorite lane of trees apparently border low lying ground with plenty of water, and hence plenty of fog. I came out of the patch fairly quickly. Tonight MJ was coming up from the valley in the truck and had it much worse. The tule fog in the Central Valley was one of my earliest experiences in California, when visibility on the highway is reduced to about ten feet.
A Year at the Snake 