In Mendocino,

I sat on the sun deck of my room at the bed and breakfast and turned my face to the sun. My face to the sun, I closed my eyes and heard the ocean in front of me. My socks and shoes lay by the base of the rocking chair. Coffee, forgotten, cooled on the table next to the dining menu of the B&B. Jen was inside, showering away the dirt of the day. I sat, eyes closed, face warming, and rocked.

I can still feel the nettle sting on my knee. My left thigh boasts some blackberry thorns, small and hard to find, like fiberglass. There may be dirt under my fingernails still. Cheeks? wind burned. Two days in Mendocino, along the brutally beautiful north coast, looking at wetlands, looking for elusive rare plants (beneath the willows, by the stream, almost to the beach), and (today) clamoring along the side of a redwood ravine, marking the riparian boundary, scaling rocks and grabbing limbs, swinging up and ducking under like a ten year old. Jen says "how did you get there?" I say, "I just did."

Good days. Anticipate soreness tomorrow. Pictures soon.