It is a watered down lemonade kind
of sunshine day, where the sun tries
to break through the clouds but
doesn’t do a really good job of it.
There is no fog, just gray clouds.
There is a wind, but not enough to
whip your words away. You can smell
the wonderful saltiness in the air. We
are finally back at the Oregon coast.
Mick and I are glove in glove with our
hooded jackets zipped up. I turn to
him and say, “Hey, we haven’t been
to the Oregon coast since our
honeymoon.”
down to the sandy area below us
with remnants of old bonfires,
seaweed, various shells and pretty
rocks. There are some huge tree
trunk sized logs also.
“Hey, those would be great to sit on
if we’d brought a picnic. It's too bad
we didn’t, huh, Mick?”
We walk the sandy beach for quite
some time. There are no seagulls
today, but winter at the beach is
pretty, in its own way. We continue
walking parallel to the cliffs.
Mick pockets a really pretty shell.
“Yep, and I think it was a bit warmer
that July than it is in this December.
At least we have this whole beach
area to ourselves.” I am lagging behind looking for a
shell of my own.
We have walked to the edge of a
twenty foot drop off and noticed
writing on the rock walls. “In
remembrance of Jake, RIP," I read
aloud. "What do you think that
means?” I look down to see about an inch of
water lapping at my new leather
hikers and take off towards my
husband.
“Ah, probably just kids messing
around, let’s see if we can find a way
down closer to the water,” says Mick
We can see the waves about one
hundred yards out from us and a lazy
tanker on the horizon. It is a great
day to walk and chat.
“Jo, RUN, RUN!”
I sure don’t want to ruin these!
WHAP! I am hit from behind.
My head is under icy water.
I am trying to push up but my legs
will not move as they are weighted
down. By this time I am coughing,
spluttering and terrified.
We finally find a little trail going
JASMINE'S PLACE
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