After every storm...

This part of the lake could use a good storm to clear the weeds.

By the end of December, this area will all be cleared.

Hubby and I walked to the beach this morning, the waves beckoning.

This was the scene this morning, twelve hours after the first big Pacific storm hit land and winds clocked in at 60+ at Cape Blanco.

This morning, the sun was shining, and we combed the beaches as the surf  pounded in the distance, collected agates, small, irridescent stones barely visible among the tiny pebbles, as  dog owners chased their pooches on the sand.

My Hubby found a good place to sit.

Tonight, there is another high wind advisory.  From November to June, we get out and walk whenever we can, whenever the rain is mild and the winds are not ferocious.

By January, cabin fever sets in. Then, we drive down to California to visit our relatives and soak up more sunshine.

A Sunday Walk to the Beach

Some people drive to the beach. Some people drive on the beach. Oregon allows that. Strange, isn't it? Fortunately, there are few people who do. But they do leave tell-tale signs.

I can walk to this beach, at Battle Rock, the site of an early battle between early explorers and the Rogue Indians. Only two explorers remained, escaping through the woods to tell others about the natives' disposition. There are signs about this battle; but nobody is proud of the results.

Some people never leave their cars; they park and take pictures, and admire the rock formations. They never get their feet wet.

Some prefer to sit by the lakeside picnic table/a step away from the Ocean and take in the tranquillity of the lake on sunny days.

It's Sunday, and a sunny, calm day for a walk to the beach. Out of my driveway, I can walk to three different places. Each time, I'm pinching myself, incredulous of my good luck. I walk to the beach to be in the presence of a bigger source of wisdom.

This place makes me feel blessed.