Cobb Mountain is the tallest mountain in the Mayacamas Mountains of California. Its 4720+ feet main summit is located in Lake County, west of the town of Cobb. Like nearby Mount Saint Helena, Cobb Mountain is tall enough to receive winter snowfall. The mountain also has a sub-peak named Cobb Mountain—Southwest Peak with an elevation of about 4483+ feet. Southwest Peak lies on the Sonoma-Lake county line and is the highest point in Sonoma County.
Much of Cobb Mountain lies within The Geysers Geothermal Field, and several geothermal plants are located on the mountain. Other areas on the mountain are owned by Cobb Mountain Spring Water (now sold as Mayacamas Mountain Spring Water) or are privately held timberlands.
The mountain is named after John Cobb, the first pioneer to settle in the area. Cobb was born in Henry County, Kentucky, on May 19, 1814. In 1853 he arrived in California and homesteaded in Cobb Valley and went on to become the county assessor and the road overseer for the Clearlake District in 1855. He built a combined saw and gristmill in 1859, which was later destroyed by fire. He sold his interests and moved to Napa County around 1860.
The Cobb Mountain area was devastated in 2015 by the Valley Fire, including much of the town of Cobb, as well as several geothermal facilities.
Marriages all have one big shared lie in common! We’ve all been fed the same lie. Here it is. “Honey, what would you like to have for dinner?” The lie: “Dear, whatever you wish to fix is okay by me.” Yeah, right! Somehow I knew that wasn’t true. I couldn’t imagine him eating peanut butter and jelly seven days a week with an added treat on Sundays of Campbell’s—his choice of flavors, of course. Actually, it would be my choice of flavors as his answer would be, “Whichever one you choose to fix is fine with me.” Really?
We received a Betty Crocker Cookbookas a wedding gift. It had great pictures, measurement equivalents, directions, helpful hints—it was my very best friend in the kitchen. It gave me confidence. It helped with shopping lists and menu choices. It filled in wherever and whenever I needed assistance. I failed on more than one occasion, but hubby was great. He ate everything I prepared.
My cooking for two people, three meals per day, seven days a week “slowly” turned into meals for six people, three meals per day, seven days per week (okay, I admit, not always “for lunch”). The girls and the two of us would help ourselves to as much as we would eat. Our oldest and only son would then help himself and he could fill his plate with whatever was left on the serving dishes—we almost never had to deal with left overs.
This past year there hasn’t been much to zero in on, so the normal, troublesome events became paramount. I am now able to once again cook for two only. I know. It has been a struggle. It has taken this long to get it right. The meal served on Saturday isn’t the same served on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, or worse yet on Friday, too. It is for the meal at hand, only. I’d love to celebrate, but a dash around the block doesn’t seem to be much of a celebration. Soon though, it can be dining out and a movie. We’re getting closer to our old reality. Hang in there, and stay safe—mask, distance, and wash those hands. Also, vaccine is an option. It offers what we are all looking forward to—freedom.
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