Ever since the first fall I spent in beautiful Santa Cruz, this time of year has had a strange hold on me.  I think maybe it's because the first fall I spent in Santa Cruz was both my first months of college, where my mind was fitted with its own set of wings, and my first taste of a true autumn.

In Santa Cruz, fall brings wonderful warm rain, an exotic luxury to a kid from the desert of Riverside.  I used to spend hours walking in the rain from my dorm through miles of cow pastures to get to the office of the school paper at the bottom of campus.  It was on one of these walks that I first saw the end of a rainbow, landing right in a cow pasture, turning the green hills pink, yellow, and blue.

I used to spend hours wandering the redwood forest on campus, mesmerized by the sight of bright green ferns against dark red trunks, the sound of water dripping from the high branches, and the scent of the redwoods that only comes out when everything's wet.  It was on those walks that Ben used to spy on me from the branches of a big oak tree, softly reciting his poetry from up in the tree (...took me a while to figure out it wasn't the Oak talking to me).

I know what you suburbanites think of Santa Cruz, but this was all sans drugs.  Just earth!

So now, from the moment the first cold wind snaps at me I am overwhelmed with the desire to run off into the country to be seduced by all that is autumnal and earthy.

Sometimes my crazy fall treks don't work out.  I've had short order cooks at roadside eateries wave knives at me for asking for soup made from home-grown pumpkins, and I've checked into my share of out-of-the-way motels hoping for an idyllic escape, only to realize my neighbors were probably discussing where to hide the body.

But this year's first fall trek wasn't too bad!  Thanks to Steve L., who hooked me up with a great weekend in Santa Barbara, I got a pretty good fix.  Here's a mess of pix from our trip with Miss P:

First Stop: Celebrated vintner Jim Clendenen's bi-annual open house north of Santa Barbara.

On the road: a storm headed our way filled the whole trip with romantic, moody skies!

Steve had just got a "Tom Tom"...so he didn't bring a map...

...so we were lost most of the time!

But after a 2.5-hour, 45-mile trip from downtown Santa Barbara, we finally made it!


The open house is at the Au Bon Climat warehouse, not a tasting room...

...so it was all wide-open and breezy and country air.  And they brought out 100 wines to taste!


Miss P looking for a good white wine...and trying to avoid eye contact with Whole Foods groupies.


Me and Miss P got a little drunk on the hot vintners...

With a case of wine (each) in the trunk, we headed to our second stop:  Cold Springs Tavern, an historic stagecoach stop in Los Padres National Forest.


Every Sunday, Cold Springs hosts a biker/hiker street side blues jam.

How did Leland ever get wise to THIS dealio?  Guess he's more street than I realize!


The menu: cold beer and tri-tip sandwiches.




Board members of the Santa Barbara Co-Op jigging to the blues after a forest retreat.

Next Stop: A hotel on the beach in Santa Barbara.


I chose Best Western Beachside Inn.  Not the fanciest hotel, but I got upgraded to a room with a balcony and a foxy ex-boyfriend who lives in the area:

Dane juggles our dinner date with his busy life as a single dad.

Next morning...

Evidently, Miss P found a white wine she liked!

...despite a few empty bottles, I was up early for a beach hike right outside the hotel.

Black Skimmers and Elegant Terns.

Then Steve and I enjoyed a classic SoCal fall breakfast: an ocean view and snuggly sweaters.

"Little Black" Sambo's...the food sucks, but you have to do it.

Last Stop: Miss P and I hiked to Saddle Rock in Montecito (found this in "Santa Barbara Day Hikes" by Ray Ford, a great book you can pick up at the Visitor Center kiosk on the corner of the ocean front drag Cabrillo and Garden St.)  The hike threads past big-ass Montecito mansions (this is Oprah's Cali hood), then into the lovely foothills:

Oh, the oaks remind me of Santa Cruz!  We didn't see Ben...


But we did find the mysterious hidden "Hot Springs"!

Top of the trail:

Miss P made it to the top, despite her cumbersome garb.


Great view of fall overtaking SoCal.

Most of the wine made it back unopened.

Only thing missing was that home-grown pumpkin I was still craving...

Luckily, I live in Santa Monica!  Two days later came the wonderful rain and...


...a beautiful farm boy bearing organic Santa Barbara pumpkins!

Lovely Julian of Fairview Gardens Farm in Goleta and my pumpkin, at long last!

Carried my pumpkin back home from the farmer's market in my backpack, jumping in puddles all the way.  Happy fall!