Being back on the rugged Washington Coast at the ocean after 6 years, disease, an oxygen tank and a life overhaul was like wrapping up in a comfortable warm blanket. Walking the beach, a grin glued to my face, I looked up at the trees on the ocean. These trees are badass. They lean recklessly into the wind. Their branches sparse and thick. Not a place for spindly branches with the protection of the forest. Trees on the ocean need to be able to stomach the wind and the salt water and be the first line of whatever came off the Pacific. These were Don’t screw with me trees. These trees were tested. They weren’t as full or even as the ones further back in the rainforest. But they had seen worse.
Me and those trees. Worn and beaten. A little worse for wear. Still standing.