back from a stay at the sea

with this out our window
{and the sound of the fountain at night as we fell asleep}

a visit to the flower fields

and sunsets like this:
The sea is just a wetter version of the sky.
|Regina Spektor|

The Oregon Coast & Portland

full album here

Last Night in Yachats

Who hath desired the sea?*

after a family gathering tonight, we're headed to stay

in a shingled house by the sea.

there's a cozy spot quite like this one in the main part of the house. Upon the sight of it,
I dubbed it as my sleeping quarters and my daytime lounging spot.
it's perfect for reading and looking out at the ocean.

we're each in charge of a meal and a day's worth of activities.
so far i've found four killer cookie recipes and
a list of local design shops.
chocolate marshmallow cookies and sea salt caramel brownies count
as a main dish. especially on vacation.
i pulled out the travel folder from my work files
and am excited to peruse the local design scene, albeit possibly solo.
i've looked up bookshops, too.
more will be in tow on those outings, perhaps.

mostly, i'm excited for sea and sand and uninterrupted time with family.

*"The Sea and the Hills," by Rudyard Kipling

the Atlantic

I read an article last week about a woman who built her dream house on the north Atlantic shore. She has always been drawn there and has now settled there for good. I identified with her fondness for the sea on the east, preferring it most times to the sand on the west.

I made a packing list last night for our trip to the beach. We're headed to the shores of Oregon.

Last week when we arrived I followed my usual routine: unpack my things and hang my clothes on the hangers. Which is funny because I've been living out of a suitcase between trips for almost a month now, even at home. I thought it would make the time between trips go faster, but all it does is make for really wrinkly clothes.

Catch a wave and you're sittin' on top of the world...

While I'm playing around on Flickr, see more photos here.

{Above, in order of appearance: Big Red, Cole, The Kid}

Endless Summer

Back from a week of sand and surf. It was, in a word, Heavenly.* As promised, I'm working on a slide show. Thanks to D for the new lenses. And thanks to all surfers who participated. Especially Cole. You're my fave. For like ever.

Oh, California

Thought I’d never reach the water

Had to cross the desert and the great divide
Drinking only golden promises
With white lines in my eyes

Oh, California
It’s the one big love that you cannot end
Oh, California
It’s not like before but we can still pretend

Oh, California
I can see you now from the top of that hill
Oh, California
Though many have gone I have the memories still
Oh, California
I can hear the sound of the mission bell
Oh, California
We’re one stone’s throw from heaven

|lyrics by Colin Hay, photo by me|

*Holla to an injured wave rider. May your wounds heal soon. Thanks for teaching me in the wise ways of the Surfer Dude.

{happy weekend}

a week from now it will be nothing but sand

and surf and giant palm trees outside my window.

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)*

If you haven't been to the ocean for a while you forget. The smell of salt water in wide open air. The heaviness of your feet in dry sand and the way footprints begin to follow you where the sand turns wet. The way your face stings for a few seconds and how saltwater tastes on your tongue. The sound of the waves crashing in and pulling out. The sensation of slowly wading into the tide. Growing wetter around your middle with each step, the sand beneath your toes turns to rocks and then to nothingness. In just a step, you're without footing, set free out on the water. You are your own boat. Turning to see how far you've gone, you survey the distance between you and dry land. To be sure of yourself. To be sure you want to dive in all the way. Head first. Before going under, you think about how you're about to sink into something so vast, so endless, so much bigger than you and your life on land. Something more powerful than any seemingly significant problem back on the shore. You gulp. You close your eyes tight and go from vertical to horizontal. You let the water carry you. Coming up at the will of the waves, you feel tiny in the tide. Water stretching to the edge of the world, you look out at the expanse and take a deep breath before diving in again. And again. And again. So you won't forget.

*Walt Whitman: Song of Myself