I grew up on the east coast with the Atlantic Ocean quite literally in my backyard. My childhood smelled like salt water and fish and dry seaweed. I became accustomed to semi-regular shows delivered by the sun sinking over the horizon of waves each evening.
But this is a tale set in the west, and on the Pacific coast there is no getting accustomed to this. Not for me anyway. There is nothing quite like watching the sun paint the sky every 24 hours or so, as it has done for millions of years, knowing that few on the entire continent are going to see this day fade after you... and it's like the sun knows it too. "Here's one last hurrah for the day," she seems to say.
But this is a tale set in the west, and on the Pacific coast there is no getting accustomed to this. Not for me anyway. There is nothing quite like watching the sun paint the sky every 24 hours or so, as it has done for millions of years, knowing that few on the entire continent are going to see this day fade after you... and it's like the sun knows it too. "Here's one last hurrah for the day," she seems to say.
I have been fortunate enough to celebrate with her a couple of times, in this instance, on August 5th, from the sands of Arizona Beach, Oregon.
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