I’m running about a week behind (or more) — in EVERYTHING.
Over Spring Break, I visited Palm Springs and Seattle. In the middle of the adventures, I went to Old Sacramento. I have been to Old Sac many times, but this was to take photos to write two reports to get ONE unit of university credit.
Almost every other time I have thudded along the wooden planks surrounding the old-timey town it has been packed with people, but it was eerily empty, and the sky made me take fifteen times more photos than my assignment required.
The merchants and museums are impressive, at every step, in reminding us of the wild west. These twenty-eight acres of history — from the gold-panning troughs (that reminded me of a sluice box my dad built) to the clopping hooves on the cobblestone streets to the call of the train nearly arrived at the station to the stuffed buffalo in one of the saloons to the outhouses at the schoolhouse to the dyed antique wanted posters — continue to be an important center of trade.
