detour: again, the sea

I live in the foothills. And travel to the mountains often. And ride in the valley. But the sea always calls me. So many of my trips I feel like I don't have a choice where to go: the ocean, sea, the shore, by whatever name, I am going.

Shamus (my parent's dog) is holiday tolerant

It was no different this time. A difficult few months of work, the busy holiday season, all make sea and sand and waves and redwoods beckon. Even if it was cold and foggy…to me that IS the sea. No sunny southern California beaches with soft sand, or sunrises on the east coast, or even lovely quiet tropical beaches. I want waves and wind and brutal nature and a feeling like I don't really matter (because honestly, to this shore, we don't.)

raven watches ominous skies

tiny tidepool dweller

ogre face rock!

Ravens watched over as we walked the cliffs, and later hiked down to uncovered tide pools. The sky threatened (it was just the fog rolling in), but whether it was the threat of rain, or the wind or cold, we had the whole area to ourselves.

path to secrets

under ferns are generations more

follow the mushroom path…magical

orange mushrooms?! I don't dare…

redwood sorrel

ferns alight

Later the coastal woods where I uncovered treasures of mushroom and fern, and even saw the sun for a moment! I counted more than nine varieties of mushroom, and that was just what I could see from a few miles of simple trail. What tiny marvels.

sign leaned on this tree for years, on a path to nowhere

historic building and encroaching floodwaters

But always, back to the beach. Where river flooding threatened an historic house, morning spiderwebs hugged the ground, and our shadows stretched before us.

good morning spider

long shadows on a clear morning

Before long we were home again, to all those comforts and familiarity. But the coming storm feels a bit like wind off the sea, and the river below sounds like the constant waves. It is always within me.

shell and steel, who survives the sea?