Yachats

I take the scenic but long two and half hour drive south from Portland, slowly going through green valleys and moss laden canyons as I thought about my small space in the vast universe.

The smell of the Pacific ocean hits my nostrils. I buy two local bottles of wine and some other various necessities before finding a local place to eat in Yachats, my home for the weekend.

I love how Oregon puts me at ease.

Scallops and beer set the mood in the right direction. I check in and open the sliding glass door to hear the crashing ocean waves of winter as the sun starts it’s slow descent.

Sea lions body surf with the incoming tide. I scratch my whiskers, sip my drink, and think that perhaps this would be the animal I would like to be reincarnated as…..if you believe that sort of thing.

The 804 trail that lines the coastline calls to me. I walk along her gentle path, occasionally taking a detour into the hobbity forest, or down to the ocean itself to find broken sand dollars that met their demise in the pounding surf. I pick them up in a way that a parent cares for a broken child.


I sleep well, having something small to care about in the beautiful splendor of Central Oregon.

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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?