It’s a cold morning in the Santa Cruz mountains although they are no longer called the Santa Cruz mountains. They are no longer called anything, but there is still fog that rolls in off the Pacific. The fog is thick this day, and multi-colored as the chemical laden surf gives rise to it’s morning breath. The valley begins to warm baking the sands to scalding and the air above crackles in the tumult, pushing the fog up-mountain.
It is an electric wind that builds in the valley as the temperature above drops a few degrees in the air around the massive Padmasambava statue in the mountain top land that once was called Pema Osel Ling, an old Buddhist retreat center during the 21st century, back in the Anthropocene; thats what they called it, before the world became post-human, leaving the center to the rattle snakes, scorpions, & two-tone Blue Jays.