Sometimes going to the coast isn't about the ocean

Harris Beach State Park, Brookings, Oregon. 52 degrees F and clear

Of course, it is always there, in the background, low rumble below the cliffs. On a chilly, sunny, breezy day, however, it might be about the coastal forest. It is our lazy, do nothing but enjoy day, and after a slow morning, we decided to walk some of the trails around the park.

The light was beautiful, that brilliant contrasts stuff that makes all photographers crazy. Backlit moss that looks very nearly fluorescent against the dark, wet spruce bark. Shamrocks every shade of green on the forest floor. I left the Nikon behind this time, telling Mo, "Just how many photos can I take at Harris Beach, anyway?". "What in the world can I possibly write about or blog about that I haven't already done a dozen times?"

Yet here I am, with only the iPad, trying one more time to capture that backlit brilliance. Sometimes in that place between sleep and dreaming I let my mind wander to moments of light in my life, simple moments that have this brilliance. It is better than counting sheep.

We will go down to the beach this afternoon, but for the moment Mo is outside reading, and I am here writing. Supper will be easy and we will eat by the fire. Today we won't wait until chilly dark for the camp fire, we will start it early.

I filled out my morning talking with friends and daughters on the phone, leisurely phone calls that were heart warming. Or maybe that was yesterday. I am on ocean time, even if it isn't about the ocean.

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