To The Beach

Pella, Iowa, USA: Outside my front door, the rain drips off the weed that’s grown to Jack-in-the-Beanstalk proportions during the months I’ve been gone.  It’s drizzly and dreary and the reality of going back to work is on the horizon.

I light an ‘ocean seaside’ scented candle, not in prayer {well, maybe in prayer}, but in hopes I’ll be transported to the French beach and the sea salt caramels, my first swim in the Atlantic (couldn’t stop licking my lips) and megaliths {who knew?}.  

Carnac, France:

Marissa relentlessly checked weather forecasts in advance and insisted this would be the brightest, warmest most perfectest beach day on the west coast of France. She was right.
Wispy & Light: 
Like our spirits, God Etch-a-sketched ever-changing designs in the sky.

Instead of waiting in long lines for tours out to the island where exotic birds mated, we contentedly lounged on the warm sand savoring fresh pastries as the tide came in.

I brought back salt. When I travel, I collect it, then cook with it… or more accurately: I carry a small baggie in my purse for that improperly seasoned meal, or salt-craving. I just had my sodium checked: it’s in the normal range.

Then there were these treasures brought forth from the sea that catapulted my mind several time zones east and reminded me of Kyrgyzstan and its yurts and serpentine roads.


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