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The Holiday Season

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As the year winds down, festivities compress what time remains.  The usual events, rituals and traditions combine to make the last couple of months blur into a final season.  I am grateful that Sarrah was able to be here for ‘The Holiday Season’, one more time.

Sarrah was part of my increasingly favored holiday and our recent annual tradition of gathering at The Beach House for a few days around Thanksgiving joining; us, my parents Esther and Stan, Nissa’s mom Gail, the cats and our beach neighbor friends Mike, Lori and Jessica for another extended weekend of giving Thanks.  We individually gather and stay there for a few days, making the holiday more about being with family and friends than just an over planned annual meal.  It seems the added time in this place allows the traditional stress to dissolve and the true flavor of giving thanks takes over.  Sarrah was part of it all; inhaling all the smells of the cooking feast, scoring human food snacks, walking with her toes in the sand, barking orders at cats, collecting affectionate pats from all and constantly reminded me to be thankful.  This year the quiet moments were a bit heavier and at times a little saddening, but moments like these helped me remember and define others.

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Adventure!

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Sarrah delighted in all aspects of going to the Peninsula.  She usually sat up and looked out the windows the entire way there, to watch the world as it went on by.  The journey from where we live starts with on average an hour of ‘freeway hell’, racing with the self absorbed rats on the paved necessary ugliness, known as Interstate 5.  Then off onto Highway 101 where it gradually devolves from too much civilization and overpopulation into a sort of peaceful time travel back through the woods and near a few old small towns, too tough to die.  This leg of the journey is packed with many little things that busy people miss or find “boring”.  These things like mountains, forested land, rivers, cattle, wildlife; deer, coyotes, porcupines, elk, eagles, hawks and even bears were all noticed and points of interest mentally noted by my road wise companion.

Familiarity joined us as we learned and remembered the details of the road.  Sarrah began to recognize the Montesano exit, about a third of the way there and would start with howls and growls, eventually twirling in place with delight.  This spot marked the end of four-lane travel and the start of rural highways complete with the lost in time feel; proof and promise of adventure!

Perspective

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Aside from the Ocean, the obvious main ingredient of this beach is Sand.  Unlike the mostly barnacle covered rocky beaches of the Puget Sound, near home, the Long Beach Peninsula is sandy, miles… of fine tan colored sand.  Depending on the tide there is about twenty to one hundred yards of beach from the edge of the grass-covered dunes to the changing ocean line.  Here the ocean licks the sand, packing it into a high-speed surface, making for a smooth run near the edge.  Or where as Sarrah preferred it, sand piled loosely by the wind, storms and high tides up against the dunes where the grass grows and waves like wheat fields; catching the blowing sand into thick, fluffy unstable drifts for jumping and plowing through.

Sand is magical; it brings out playfulness in a dog, youth in the old and delight in a kid.  Sand does not care how careful you are, it will get into everything.  These little bits of ancient rock ground in the waves, spread by the wind, over time will get between your toes and everywhere else.  Sarrah loved it!  She did her part to share it.  It seemed no matter how well I wiped her feet, she somehow smuggled some in.