Kalaloch in Kind

We decided to go to the ocean. On a lovely, sunny Thursday. It coincided with a bit of personal business for Jake in Forks and that translated into an opportunity for us all.

Actually, we almost couldn't decide between the Ocean and a beachy invitation we received to Crescent Lake. Though fantastic, too...

But I say to Jake hours before we leave to either somewhere, "Jake, we only go to the ocean in the middle of winter, in the middle of the night, to dig clams (whaa, whaa, I know). So let's show the girls it is nice in the summer. And the daytime. And when it isn't stormy. And when we don't have to lug a lantern and wear scarves."

Off we went.

Kalaloch was named by the Quinault tribe: "Land of Plenty."
We arrived at lowest tide and the girls were watchful of the one inch waves. (It isn't good for digging clams, they know.)

...Then we ventured a few jumps in the puddles between foamy licks of water. That was fun.

And then we enjoyed the sunshine, sand warmed splashes, and nakedness from the knees down.

And then the rest of the story goes as follows: it was like we reacquainted the young locals-that-live-with-us with their territory. And they were free.

It got a little majestic. Spiritual. Enlivening.

And I felt it. Plenty.

The girls marched in with an Anchoring Escort.

And then thirsted for more (helps if you're three). Deeper, foamier, more enveloping. True summer moments of its kind.

School? For the first time, starts in about three weeks. And the arrival of a new woman to love in six.
This is Us.

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