Fall Series: Salty Sea Air

[stringtheory]

I listed some topics in my intro to this series. I will get to those, but I'm drawn to write from the soul right now, and I would say the fall brings it out; what I like to call the "tortured soul syndrome". I am sipping on a beer, on my patio, thinking, "why is that house next door so close?" I listen to a chill Neil Young song and tilt my head back, looking at a blue sky, with streaks of white going by. If only I could hear the crash of waves on the shore right now. Maybe its cliche to desire a seaside bungalow, but I'm not talking coconut trees and spear-fishing. I want to be up on a bluff, with cold pacific ocean below. Not beach, but unscalable, rocky cliffside. I grew up in an Alaskan fishing community, where colorful bouys/fenders (depending on your mariner experience) hanging from trees in the stead of a wooden or tire swing. There was a lovely, lonesome feel to having a small abode back among spruce trees, but still having roaring sea tickling your senses; salt-air scent, seashell sound, maritime taste. Crisp, cool breeze brushing your skin. In the fall, this was all so magnified. I am not a city girl. I miss treking through forests just to short-cut my way to school, picking blueberries and salmon berries without rinsing the pesticide off before suckling the sweet honey from them. Where is my coastal mountain cabin? Someday, I sigh.