Now that the ugly part of spring is over, I think it's safe to talk about it. Like, therapeutically. How all that rain made us feeeel. How the goosebumps, the mud that found its way onto the kitchen tile, and the low-slung steely sky just re-affirmed all the gloom and doom inside us. Now .... let it go.
Aanyway, though, before the sun officially came out last week, I took a spin out to the Oregon Coast, just me and Big Left. Passed quietly through the green hallway that is HWY 26. Emerged at Canon Beach and caught Haystack Rock in the rearview mirror. Headed south to Manzanita as the winds kicked up and walked for a very long time on the beach. And it was very, very cold.
On the sand, Lefty booked it in all directions with his tongue flapping wildly behind him. The beach is an exquisite joy to dogs. As far as these little fellas are concerned, nipping at the surf and chasing gulls for miles are reasons for livin'.
Next day, woke to pouring rain. Despite this, I wanted to walk up the Oregon Coast Trail a spell. Which I did, as long as I possibly could. Up through the fog. Past electric green undergrowth beneath tall, wise trunks. Eventually, the deluge becoming so bad that I slipped and fell scrambling over some muddy tree roots. Promptly, with mud from foot to neck, I turned for home.
A feather, for luck.