Searching for the Sea

The Sea  8 x 8 encaustic

In the spring of 98 I was at a crossroads, not knowing where I'd be going next. I wrote this hokey little song called the Trask River Blues. One of the verses goes kinda like this;

I grew up along the banks of the Trask River

I always thought I'd follow her to the sea....

 The mountains they beckon 

The ocean she reckons 

If I didn't say I loved her I'd have lied

I'm going to have to climb that ridge

Or set my sail to sea

Lord which one will it be?

Recently, I was reading somewhere about how many people find themselves in adulthood unconsciously trying to re-create situations and memories from their childhood. I realized how often I think about those endless summer days my family spent on the Oregon coast. I wish I could give those days to my own daughter. What a luxury of space there was to be found. What riches we naively possessed; Long horseback rides, abandoned hobo shacks, smooth black rocks, pure, ever-shifting estuaries...  We built crumbly sand castles with cold, salty fingers, played in the freezing surf,  and ate gritty picnic lunches nestled in wind protected hollows. These memories are like little gold nuggets, that I mine for over and over.