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Description

This is El Toro, a nice little prominent volcanic peak (doesn’t look like one to me) in the Santa Clara mountain range perched over Morgan Hill, California. No it’s not Morgan Hill. Hiram LoganMorgan Sloan Hill was an exceptionally handsome shoe salesman bank clerk and fashion model who socialite/heiress, soon-to-be mother-of-Lady-Rhodes, Diana Murphy eloped with to her estate down at the base of this hill. It was quite a love story between the two, and ended tragically with his early death. She named the town in his honor. Her great-grandson you may have seen in old films like the Guns of Navarone, so I guess handsome faces ran in the family. There’s still a beautiful old house and a local historical society that gives tours and hosts hooch parties at. I don’t live here, I live like a scrummocky backwoodsman offscreen to the left a mile or so away in the foothills surrounded by all the local wild animals, a modern day Assisi minus the general saintliness and pro-animal stance. Raccoons in the ceiling will do that to a guy. On a clear cold night, you should be able to pinpoint the location of my house by the ringing of the blacksmith anvil, then follow the glow down into a very elven hollow where the heir of Volundr works alchemy magic in steel, and I, lowly apprentice, annoy the neighbors with amateur renditions of Puccini. There is a windy road going up the other side of the valley, and this is the view looking towards El Toro and down on the beautiful twinkling lights. One of the prettiest towns in California, I think, but I’m severely biased.
and here is the most prettiest town in California.

Description

This is El Toro, a nice little prominent volcanic peak (doesn’t look like one to me) in the Santa Clara mountain range perched over Morgan Hill, California. No it’s not Morgan Hill. Hiram LoganMorgan Sloan Hill was an exceptionally handsome shoe salesman bank clerk and fashion model who socialite/heiress, soon-to-be mother-of-Lady-Rhodes, Diana Murphy eloped with to her estate down at the base of this hill. It was quite a love story between the two, and ended tragically with his early death. She named the town in his honor. Her great-grandson you may have seen in old films like the Guns of Navarone, so I guess handsome faces ran in the family. There’s still a beautiful old house and a local historical society that gives tours and hosts hooch parties at. I don’t live here, I live like a scrummocky backwoodsman offscreen to the left a mile or so away in the foothills surrounded by all the local wild animals, a modern day Assisi minus the general saintliness and pro-animal stance. Raccoons in the ceiling will do that to a guy. On a clear cold night, you should be able to pinpoint the location of my house by the ringing of the blacksmith anvil, then follow the glow down into a very elven hollow where the heir of Volundr works alchemy magic in steel, and I, lowly apprentice, annoy the neighbors with amateur renditions of Puccini. There is a windy road going up the other side of the valley, and this is the view looking towards El Toro and down on the beautiful twinkling lights. One of the prettiest towns in California, I think, but I’m severely biased.
and here is the most prettiest town in California.