A little, green camping spot, two yearling dear curled up sleeping alongside us, inside our cosy camper trailer. A tall, buzzing tree, filled with humming birds and naughty blue-jays and yellow butterflies. A fire, alive with orange molten energy, buffer of warmth against the cold, starry night. Lake Ozette, calm ripples venturing forth to explore distant shores, lines of fluffy green pines trees. A forest, every inch teeming with curling, growing, seeking, earthy-smelling life. Curly roots creating little caves beneath trees, where once a nurse-log slept. Dense woods, huge trees, delicate moss, and suddenly an increasing span of light, getting closer, bursting into the forest ... the coast! The Pacific Ocean, waves curling in, reflecting sunlight, bold, bright, gleaming. Into the icy sea I dive, catching a Pacific wave for the first time since Australia! Eowyn and Cosette, delighted, play in the sea, seemingly not noticing how chilly 'tis. Bens and I discover a delightful haven which we name 'Flotsam House', made of logs, bleached and pounded into beach bones by the sun and the surf. My naked skin touches the sand, warm, soft, encompassing, and as I bathe in the sun, a part of me which is normally asleep in NW USA awakens ... Megan the surfie chick! Yeehaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!


"a nurse-log"?? All sounds wonderful, and sensitively described, except the nurse-log.
Megs said…
It means a dead log - Why exactly the name 'nurse log', je ne sais pas!!! I guess... hmmmm .... any guesses?
LP said…
its called a nurse log because when it dies, it lays on the forest floor and begins to decompose, and then a new tree starts growing out of it, and the dead tree "nurses" the new tree with all it's decomposing nurishment, and then eventually it's gone and the new tree remains.

the end.

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