It feels like it’s a month since we took a trip to Florence, Oregon, to escape the oppressive heat that suffocated Eugene. It’s been two quick weeks.
I wrote about the dogs playing in the Siuslaw River. I wrote about staying in a bad motel. Slippery Rock is the name that pops in my head, but Silver Sands is the real name. Maybe you do get what you pay for, though maybe not.
I wrote about where we ate. Right next to Mo’s. CM something. CMI? Pretty good food. Interesting interior decorations.
I didn’t write about the pictures I took outside the restaurant. Such neat piles of rope and buoys and other fishing items.
Textures and colors and lines were all around me. That’s a lot of rope. I can’t imagine how long it took to make those coils.
I tried to catch the moments.
Everything was calling for my attention. There was so much to see. So much that I’ve already forgotten.
On our way back to the car, a man was working in the yard, welding something. He didn’t notice me. A cat noticed me. We conversed as I took some pictures of it. It probably sees a lot of people passing by. I told the cat about Pookah and Sparky, the Tuxedo cats from my past.
I even thought this old phone booth was interesting. I hadn’t noticed the building reflected in the picture until now. This would make a great Little Free Library.