Jones Beach and Gathering No Moss

Time is rapidly dwindling on my Lost Coast dateline. The days are still hot, the nights only from cool to chilly but here and there, some leaves are already making spots of color; yellows and reds peeking out from greens of every shade. When I hear from friends around the country they all say 'hot hot hot' but it's only mid-August, and while the temperatures may be higher than what we once called normal, it still is the dog days season.

Decorated in a half lei with end of summer roses by The Girl.
Smile big, Auntie Sarah! 

The ancient Greeks noticed that summer’s most intense heat occurred during the approximate 40-day period in the early summer when Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, rose and set with the sun.

...Due to a wobble in the Earth’s rotation that shifts the position of the stars in the night sky, the dates of the “dog days” now fall several weeks later on the calendar than they did thousands of years of ago. (AskHistory.com)

Now you know.

Down on the Lost Coast at Jones Beach, the weather has its own pattern. Foggy, chilly, damp and beautiful. We got down there after dark and setting up the tent in the beam of a flashlight where the minuscule fog drops danced like snow in a globe, with the occasional plops of drops that had gathered on eucalyptus leaves above falling like surprise.

How early morning looked.
Lots of fog, no elk. 

Bright spots

Part of the Lost Coast Trail that goes to Jones Beach
We camped about 20 yards from this path.

It seemed like the fog might lift but it didn't.

I've been at Jones Beach when the sun was shining (it was colder then) and it is magnificent, a grove of massive eucalyptus trees, wide golden meadows and the Pacific in glittering glory. Foggy is just another facet to enjoy. So we did.

Up early I got a fire going so we'd be set up for coffee and breakfast.

One by one every sleepyhead joined me.

Sausage links from a local, sustainable and organic farm around here.

Starting to send that wafty smell of firewood and food

Eggs from Dave and Ines's chickens
with sharp cheddar cheese, red bell peppers and onions.
Forgetting the spatula turned out just fine!

Peek-a-boo!

After a close to lick the skillet clean, it was area clean up and breaking down camp, we headed down to the beach.

I love this dragon!

New signage since last here. 

The easy part of the walk; after that, no photos
since I wanted both hands in case of slippage or slidage.

Ah! There she is!

I want to take all of this huge driftwood and put them in my pocket.
My mental pocket does pretty well.

Seaweeds of many kinds decorate the black sand

This curious seal kept popping up closer and closer
until he wisely moved back out to sea.

Happy Papa

How many kinds of seaweed are here? It was so beautiful!

There is a fast moving freshwater creek that comes from the top
directly down to the sands. I could have played there a long time
but the tide was coming in. It was time to go.

A bus ride to San Francisco (because that's the only way to get there from here unless you find someone going to 'the city'), a train ride to New York. Then I'll figure out the real homeward bound part of the journey. 

Dog days indeed! Arf!

Have a mellow Monday. Do something mollifyingly moving.

Culebra Tiny Home Tuesday

At the end of a dirt road in the northwest woods and mountains of North Carolina is a path. Down a slight hill, and a turn to the left brings you to a small clearing. Sitting like a small jewel is this cabin.

Inside is a bare canvas, one room, waiting for finishing. I've imagined it a few dozen times and talked to LC, the owner/builder  - he's The Man Who Can Do Anything - about heating and plumbing and all the ways it would take to make it home, starting with a covered porch on three sides (that's my imagining, having all my priorities in a wobbly row; LC is a lot more practical). Imagine a chimney, with fragrant smoke, with wood from fallen trees, wafting. Imagine a wrought iron bed with feather pillows, covered in locally made quilts (lots of them, it gets cold up there). A propane stove with soup cooking. A small wooden table, two chairs, mismatched plates and glasses on an open shelf, waiting to be placed. Deer in the yard, a cat in the bed. Maybe one day.

The edge of the front yard. On a clear day, mountain ranges stretch away into the sky. On a foggy, wet day, it is still beautiful, so quiet you can hear raindrops falling.

Have a top 'o the world Tuesday. Do something tiny.

p.s. If you want a good cabin story, go here. John McAbery, a part of the story, is the woodcarver I met at his beach home on the Lost Coast in California and wrote about in a post last year.