Goodbye Oregon

I slept top bunk in the van, trying to understand how the ladies sleeping in the bed below were so warm when I was so cold. It wasn’t until day light hours that I realize vent almost just over my head had been open all night. Silly me for forgetting the up!
An hour later it began raining, as the Pacific Northwest is known for. Our camp site was peaceful, waking up to the birds and sounds of nature. The only vehicles that could be heard were muffled by the trees.
Something I will never tire of are trees, especially these ones. I had never realized how much I love the color green lining the sky until I returned from living in Wales, where all the bright green bills are speckled with white dots – prairie maggots, as my boyfriend’s father so lovingly describes them, or sheep, to the rest of us.
There is such a distinct difference between the lush fields of the UK and towering evergreens of the bills that crash down into the sea in the Pacific Northwest. I love them both, but watching the trees sway in the wind doesn’t compare to the still, grassy craig.
The rain continued our entire journey to California, with surprise wind-bursts during the high places of the highway. The waves, emerald in color, crashed against the scattered rocks along the coast, promoting that Poseidon’s power still reins.

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