We took our time coming north from Astoria, taking long detours just to stay within view of the ocean. We played like real tourists, even stopping at Washington's tallest lighthouse. We burried our feet in the warm sand and lost our shoes in the waves. We collected sand dollars and were thoroughly whipped by the coastal winds.
Give me dune grass or give me death. There is nowhere else on earth that I feel such a rush than on Pacific Northwest beaches. Zion seems to feel the same way. I thought I'd be coming home from this trip (after weeks of abnormal busyness) completely exhausted. Instead I came home with salt and sand on my ankles, ready to write and draw and otherwise take on my world. We picked out our next vacation spot, too, and I'm holding on to the hope that we'll get back down there before the end of Summer.
PS My husband's wingspan comes in handy a lot, but perhaps never so much as when we take pictures of ourselves. Pretty sweet, huh?
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