My friend’s next door neighbor (now deceased) bought his property in order to preserve the forest there. He created an actual Preserve, and it’s phenomenal. When walking the well-kept paths, I feel like I’m in a fairy tale complete with trolls and fairies and wood nymphs. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera in the truck during our walk, so all I had was my cell phone. I was not able to do justice to this magical place.

This was actually at a huge 50 acre+ property a mile or so inland that was for sale. As usual, I had fantasies about living there. Perhaps have a goat farm and tiny house community.

We visited some friends who had some sage advice on their back porch

See! Fairyland with Ginormous mushrooms! I expected to see a hookah-smoking caterpillar.

The local farmer’s market had cherry tomatoes I couldn’t resist

Pugsly keeps pooping in the camper around 1-2am.

I am very worried about her.

I cut up one of my large USGS maps, lined the camper floor, and spent the next four nights with Pugsly sleeping on the floor, and me on the narrow and short fold-out bed closer to her. I can’t do this for three more weeks. We’ll have to find a vet if this keeps up.

She only had the intestinal issues while in Yachats, so I conclude that she is not fond of being constantly cold and damp.

I left the morning of Oct 10. On my way out, I walked down to the ocean and spent some time feeling the power of this mysterious body of water.

The tide was coming in, and was completely mesmerizing. The presence of the ocean is overwhelming. I picture myself on a small boat, without view of land, and immediately feel terrified. This little poem came to mind.

The ocean doesn’t care about your children.
The ocean doesn’t care if the pillow cases match the duvet.
The ocean doesn’t care about your political leanings.
The ocean doesn’t care about your new wide-angle lens.
The ocean doesn’t care about the tides or the moon or about its own salinity.
The ocean is sound and fury signifying nothing.
The ocean doesn’t care.