On Sunday, N and I went up to Julian, which is a tiny mining/farming town northeast of where we live. It was a beautiful drive out there, and I was so relieved to be surrounded by trees, dirt, clear skies, and away from concrete. I always get a little concrete claustrophobic in the city. I grew up in the “country,” and I always crave that setting.
Julian was quaint. We bought a few kitchen trinkets, browsed the local shops, and checked out the cemetery. The cemetery was, by far, my favorite part. I LOVE walking through old cemeteries. For a few months when I was living in Oregon, I lived a block away from an old beautiful cemetery with huge leafy trees and giant roots. I loved reading old headstones and imagining what their lives were like. The dogs and I walked through there at least once a day, sometimes twice.
We totally missed the boat on Julian apple pie. There were at least three shops claiming to have the best apple pie. The apples supposedly local, and of course, the recipes have been passed down for generations. We will head back up in the fall when the town is celebrating Apple Days. I hope the leaves will be changing colors.