The baseboards are scrubbed, the California champagne is nestled in layers of my yoga pants, the trailer is hitched to my rig.

We are ready to leave California behind, ready to drive through her snow capped peaks, high above the almond orchards of the upper Sacramento valley, en route to our Rocky mountain backyard.

I have been homesick lately, and I’m counting down the days until I’m reunited with my bed, my favorite coffee cup, and that scruffy gray fleece I deemed too pathetic to pack for our journey to civilization, and have missed most every day.

But I will miss walking the river trail, listening to Maggie’s even breathing as she sleeps in her stroller while I drink in the views of Lassen National Park. I will miss that gorgeous produce department, 10 short miles from a house I fell in love with the moment I fit the key to the lock. And I will especially miss the orange blossoms, their bridal scent tiptoeing across my pillow, waiting quietly to greet me at dawn.

Thanks for the memories, California.