Cannon Beach

A father at the park the other day tried to convince me that Washington is one of the driest summer states. How a place that rains 3 out of 7 days of summer can be considered "dry" is beyond me. The last time it rained in July in California, the Pope declared it a miracle. So, no, I did not believe him.

I have never lived more than 20 minutes from the beach. I have never lived in a place that rained longer than a few days in a row. I have never lived in a place where "winter" meant anything other than those few short days of rain in a row. We celebrated Avery's birthday in California in the sun, at a park. Everyone wore sunscreen and short sleeves in January. And for Norah's birthday we were here. It rained...in July. So this weather, this change of climate and terrain, will take some getting used to.

But this weekend, we got our beach fix. Our neighbors invited us to tag along on a camping trip with 3 other families along the magnificent Oregon Coast, at breathe-taking Cannon Beach. We drove 6 and half hours through the worst traffic to get there, passing little beach towns like Astoria and Seaside along the way. And it was all worth it.
The nights weren't too cold. The days weren't too hot.

Sweet little Harper slept bundled up just like this right next to Mama in our sleeping bag each night.

We spent all day Saturday at the beach. Historic Haystack Rock, the landmark of Cannon Beach, was lined with colorful sea anemone and starfish. Even with the sea as a backdrop, it felt mighty; majestic. The waves were loud enough to drown out thought; and we spent the day digging in the sand, running back and forth from the water, and building a beach-side bonfire for s'mores at dusk.
The weekend was not without sibling fighting, s'more smudged faces, and work, work, work. Each child took turns having their own little meltdown. Plus, feeding and changing little ones at a dirty campsite takes some effort. But, we were among friends and family. We left the beach today feeling grateful for each other and for the time away.


A peace that only the beach can bring.



I think we could get used to this.