Only Half Joking

My friends in Reno had joked for a long time that I should move out west. They said I needed to photograph the West Coast, and they’d make sure I had a place to stay. I joked back that I’d decide once I came to visit, so I took a vacation and flew out. Our first stop was Apple Hill in Placerville, California.

Apple Hill was full of farm charm: pumpkins in the patch, a giant painted rooster, a sleepy Saint Bernard, and alpacas with wild, windswept hair that made me laugh every time. On the drive there and back, the road followed a rocky mountain river lined with tall pines, and the sun set in gold over the high desert.

It was only the first day, but the West was already making its case. Maybe my friends weren’t joking after all.