Napa, California

In early April we spent two days and a night in Napa. We were in no hurry on the way up, so we took Highway 1 north along the coast. The morning shore was nearly empty, wildflowers crowding the shoulders, and the lighthouse at Pigeon Point stood on the half-gold hillside, just off its night shift.

Pigeon Point Lighthouse over golden grass, the Pacific behind

We stayed at the Alila again. At first light the fire bowl on the balcony was already lit, the bathtub right beside it, neither one hurrying the other.

The balcony at dawn, an outdoor bathtub and a lit fire bowl, green trees beyond

The next morning we retreated. We passed through town for bread, and few doors were open yet. The taqueria’s tables were set all the same: menus standing, flowers in their jars, chairs empty, one pane of glass away, the whole street reflected in it.

The taqueria through its window, tables set and empty, the street reflected in the glass

On the corner a restaurant had carried two chairs out ahead of time and set them by the fire hydrant, tablecloth already on, the customers not yet anywhere. Napa at noon and Napa at night are probably lively; we experienced none of it: two days, one night, not a single glass of wine, and everything we saw was the place before it opened.

A street corner with stone columns, two café chairs and a tablecloth beside a fire hydrant