Back to the usual

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Yes, we are back. Back at the Central Oregon Coast. Back to the usual (for me that is). Away from the unusual. But you know, although I like the unusual, I really like the usual best.

The vast Great Plains where I could see for miles ahead of me as I drove along what must have been some of America's straightest roads was unusual for me. I prefer the winding roads of the Oregon coast where beyond each turn, or over the next hill, is a new view to enjoy.

Unusual were the herds of bufalo and antelope scattered along the open, brown fields for hundreds of miles. I prefer the green, rolling hills here with flocks of Mallards and Canadian geese, a deer, or an ocassional elk. Or an Eagle soaring above, a Great Blue Heron lurking in the marsh, and knowing the river is full of Salmon heading upstream. That is what usual has become for to me.

Not a day under ninety, but many into the 100 degree was fine for maximizing my tan, but the daily afternoon thunder storms ruined many a barbecue. Winds raced across the flatlands taking anything not tied down and ruining any chance of fuel economy in the Wheeled Manor. I prefer the ocassional ocean breeze, and the moderate temperatures of the Pacific. I'll buy that tan if need be.

I stood in awe before the majesty of the Rocky Mountains, but the Cascades are every bit as pretty, although only a third the height.

Only one thing can not be found on the Central Coast of Oregon, and nothing can be substituted for it. We have no family here. No children of ours, with their children. What a wonderful thing it was. Watching one grand daughter emerge into a teenager, while knowing that another will soon be born. A first day of school for one, and a second birthday party for another. Time shared fishing with one, while riding a bicycle with another. Fixing things that only Grandpa-D can fix. And giving advice which everyone thinks is old fashioned and out dated.

So, there are things that are unusual that I can only hope someday become more usual.
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