There is a high ceiling of lilac clouds this early morning. The river outside my window, that river that looks like the wide ocean rimmed off in the distance by the deep forests of Oregon and Washington, is a shining mirror. I am so enjoying the shipping channel just outside my window. And all the wet. Yesterday I was out all day tromping through spongy forest, exploring here and there, looking at everything closely.
Now I know why I was drawn here. Beyond the Victorian prettiness of the town and the great Astoria bridge that looms behind every house, tree, and building there is the dark shipwrecked past at the mouth of the Columbia. Who knew this was the Graveyard of the Pacific? Not me. Who knew sailing in or out of the mouth of this river into the ocean was the most treacherous river passage in the world? Not me.
Gradually, inside I can feel the dry being replaced by wet.
I leave my room without a plan, not knowing what I will find. And return tired and happy. As I wrap this up blue sky and pale yellow clouds!