knee deep in weeds

notes on a simple life

it is my favorite

“The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach. I have heard them all, and of the three elemental voices, that of ocean is the most awesome, beautiful and varied.” 
― Henry Beston, The Outermost House: A Year of Life On The Great Beach of Cape Cod

We spend a few days on the Oregon Coast with my sister and her husband. We rent a lovely little cottage, right on the beach, complete with bright yellow Adirondack chairs out front and white linens. The weather blesses us with two days of sun and unseasonably warm weather, before the rain settles in. We walk for miles, collect treasures, visit with other dog lovers and eat seafood. 

We debate about taking the dog as not everyone is a dog lover like we are. My sister and her husband have always had cats. But in the end I listen to my heart and he comes with us. He is well mannered in the cottage and comes when he is called on the beach. I finally get to the point where I feel comfortable taking his leash off and he has the time of his life. It fills my heart with joy. 

There was a single blue line of crayon drawn across every wall in the house. What does it mean? I asked. A pirate needs the sight of the sea, he said and then he pulled his eye patch down and turned and sailed away.
— Brian Andreas, Story People: Selected Stories & Drawings of Brian Andreas

I always pause during those silly test where they ask you: the beach? or the forrest? But I know, if I am honest, there is no question. The beach owns my soul, my heart and my secret self. There is not a part of it I don't love. I fall into bed each night with the smell of salt air encompassing me and sleep deep and secure. 

I have been feeling very clearheaded lately and what I want to write about today is the sea. It contains so many colors. Silver at dawn, green at noon, dark blue in the evening. Sometimes it looks almost red. Or it will turn the color of old coins. Right now the shadows of clouds are dragging across it, and patches of sunlight are touching down everywhere. White strings of gulls drag over it like beads.

It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.
— Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

“He: "Whale you be my valentine?" She: "Dolphinitely.” 
― Adam Young 

how was your week?