I love new places after I’ve arrived. The waiting, the planning, the packing, and the anticipation of leaving, results in me doing child’s pose on the floor taking long, deep breaths. I felt at home there.
The arrival. The dwelling. The exploring. That’s where I love to be.
We arrived to our little inlet, with our little beach. We ate pizza, we played Dutch Blitz, we sat by the window and talked to our little hummingbird friend. I felt at home there.
We took a little boat to a remote island and walked on hand split cedar planks. I felt at home there.
We watched the waves as they crashed into the rocks. I don’t think anything is quite as wild and powerful as the ocean in a winter storm. Her unruly anger is at the same time terrifying and so breathtaking. I felt at home there.
Here are some more of the photos I took so that I can always go back:
The Culture of Being 