It takes the magnet of a sunset to darken the woods before the end of our hike.
It takes half an hour to meander the edge of the mountain, from Skyline through the Oakland Hills, until we find ourselves at the bottom of its northern neighbor in Berkeley.
It takes no money to ease ourselves pass the toll booth at the magestic Claremont Hotel, to give the four of us a free thirty minutes to explore a place too luxurious to stay — where the seats are plush and the gingerbread houses are large.
I am glad, very glad for tonight, and for what we have.
