Nobody on the Road, Nobody on the Beach

I have the week off work but still had to make a trip to campus for a meeting. Afterwards, I decided to head out Hookton Road for a walk. The sand is finally warm again yet I had the beach entirely to myself. The low tide offered up a handful of goodies to please the beachcomber in me and I was intrigued by fragments of what were surely huge sand dollars that were too fragile to survive the tumble to shore. I would love to find one of those gems intact.
It turned out to be a perfect day for beach house hunting. I spied a couple real possibilities. First, this cozy little number - the perfect little hideway to cuddle up with your (really small) sweetie for an evening mai tai (or maybe Sex on the Beach?) The architect is unknown though obviously there was some Native American influence. Faced to appreciate the gentle southern breezes, this little number will be the perfect spot to enjoy the Humboldt sunsets.

This second diamond-in-the-rough is more spacious - perfect for the growing family. Taking its cue from Mother Nature, this little cottage takes full advantage of the flotsam and jetsam of the area, using both rope and chip bags for gingerbread. An outdoor fire pit makes it a natural for entertaining. Although faced due west, sand carried on the strong winds from that direction do add to the coastal decor of the room living area.

I will present these options to Mark and we'll check the budget for a vacation home. If not available for purchase, perhaps we'll just visit and share the sunset with the residents.

WANNA GET LOST IN YOUR ROCK AND ROLL AND DRIFT AWAY

The day...the week called for a walk on the beach. I felt like a stretch so bypassed my regular haunts of King Salmon and headed out Hookton Road to the South Spit. There were few people around: a lone surf fisherman, some guys cutting firewood. The sun was high. The wind was whipping the waves around. It felt glorious to run (not miles but mere fractions of a mile) just to do it. Some stretching. A little yoga just because I could. Made going back to the hectic office more palatable. Two more weeks before the fledglings leave the nest and anxiety reigns supreme.

Our north coast beaches are beautiful but offer a dearth of treasures to soothe a beachcomber like me. No scattered shells. Agates if you know what you're looking for. King Salmon offers up the microscopic variety that I collect in jars -- eensy tiny snails....sand dollars the size of a collar button. Hookton Road on the south jetty goes to the other extreme.....driftwood of grand proportions in grander quantities. A wonderful serpent-shaped piece presented itself (it's in here somewhere) and I began to haul it up the sand. Then remembered I have a small car and groceries to fit in....but brought it home anyway. It is in my garden along with the bowling balls and concrete turtles.