The next morning we had an amazing breakfast,

Scrambled eggs with truffles and chives, drizzled with truffle oil. And gluten-free toast.

We packed up the dogs and headed for the north fork of the Yuba River for a hike. It was beautiful and the dogs did fine.

The river is so clear, and the blue skies made the water an amazing shade of blue-green.

I love the rocks.

Couldn’t stop gawking at the river. Look how fast the water flows through that one channel over to the left.

And here too. And the bands of sedimentary rock, pushed up as the mountains rose. Geology is nifty stuff.

Bay laurel trees were blooming with amazingly delicate flowers.

This branch grew around the vine that spiraled along it.

This is one old and very tall tree. This picture really doesn’t do it justice.

For the most part, the dogs ignored each other. But that’s fine, I’ll totally take it.

Fluffy rear ends.

The trail parallels and then crosses a feeder creek on the way up a long rise, and there’s a sweet little waterfall on the way.

So nice, the way the water kind of slides down that rock face. After an hour or so, the trail got steep and rocky and we decided to turn back and head home so Jimbo could make dinner.

Beautifully restored Willys Jeep in Camptonville.

Jimbo invited a couple of friends over and spent the afternoon making a wonderful Thai meal, which we finished it off with…

mulberry pie. Oh, be still my beating heart. Jimbo harvests and freezes the mulberries from the tree in his yard so he can make amazing things like this.

The evening ended on a bit of a down note. After two days, Chico was still snarling at Buddy when Buddy got what Chico thought was too close to me, and Buddy finally reached the limits of his good nature. When deciding if this was a place for us to visit, I described Chico’s attitude towards larger dogs (essentially, being an a**hole to them) and Jimbo said that if pushed too far, Buddy just kind of sits on other dogs and holds them down until they submit, without hurting them. And that’s pretty much what happened, except Chico didn’t give up at first, and Buddy’s teeth got involved and broke Chico’s skin. I cleaned up the wounds, and after an hour or so Chico calmed down, but he was pretty shaken. He tried the teeth-showing thing once or twice more during the rest of our stay and each time I reminded him that this was exactly the attitude that got him thumped and he did the right thing and stopped snarling. And Buddy returned to being a perfect host.

Jimbo feeds Buddy top quality kibble topped with some canned salmon or chicken and floating in about a half cup of freshly juiced fruits and veggies – beets, kale, carrots, a little garlic, whole citrus . . . whatever is in the garden and the fridge. And of course, Jimbo makes some for himself too. One night Chico and I joined in the ritual. I don’t know if it was the novelty of the meal, or the other dog slurping down his portion, or if it was just plain yummy, but my picky eater of a dog thought it was an excellent meal and licked his bowl.

Sunday was Easter, and we went to church before I left. That was something I don’t usually do, but Jimbo goes every week, so I went to see what they had to say. Based on that one experience, I don’t have a strong desire to join a Methodist church, though I did find Pastor Susan to be a dedicated and passionate circuit-rider of a preacher, driving miles of twisty mountain roads in all weather to serve three congregations in three small towns with three sermons each Sunday.