Been there, done that

Battle Ground State Park, Washington
The rain coats and seeps and cleanses. The smudges aren’t dry enough to use yet, but the rain takes care of a lot of our bad juju. We’re holding hands again, making love (ok, more often, because we never stopped, really), not quite as tentative or desperate. Stress is bad, stress is bad, beautiful rivers and hills and mountains and pastureland and autumn foliage and mist and rain is healing, wonder on tap.

We spend the night in Battle Ground State Park, almost alone in the park (end of the season, we’re officially way past the time when other travelers have headed to Arizona). The trees are monsters, leaves bigger than my head. There’s a lake of silver and agate that throws back the images of the giant trees. Mist rises from the water, from the trees, from the mountains. We feel misty, alive and soaked thru with the wonders of Oregon and Washington.

We walk the dogs all around the lake, laugh at them as they pick their paws up high, inspecting the floating dock. They are panting and happy when we finally pack everything in the van up, eat breakfast quesadillas, drink hot chai, and listen to a pop station that plays music straight from strip clubs. We are panting and happy, too, full of wander. Ready, sweet, onward.

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