Just the three of us

Rick and I took our pup and went to the coast on Sunday (Brian was at work). Rick had to work on a couple of horses, and then we drove om to Pacific City for a snack from The Grateful Bread (great scones!) and a walk on the beach.

The main beach access points were swamped with people, with no social distancing apparent. But we drove to a small state park where there fewer people, they were respectful of distance, and quite a few wore masks as well. This new park was once private property where we rode horses and hiked a couple times, observing river otters and belted kingfishers. There's a lovely long walk down a dike between tidal flats to scrub forest and dunes before you get to the beach, which was sparsely peopled. Perfect!

On point for a flying seagull

There is no better escape in the summer, when the Willamette Valley is an oven. It was 30 degrees cooler on the coast, with a bracing wind. Poppy had a great time, and dreamed of catching every seagull she saw. When one flew low over the incoming surf, she headed out to sea after it, only saved from her silly single-minded focus by the Flexi-Lead. The wind blew detritus across the sand, which also kept her busy chasing and pouncing. We walked south down the beach with the wind, then crossed the barrier dune and walked back along a more sheltered trail, stopping at a viewpoint and taking in the view on the way back.

After a cooler than average first half of July, we are having a hotter than average second half (which, when averaged out, will probably put us at . . . average). Even Poppy finds it hard to be energetic in this weather:

The garden is starting to produce a little as long as I keep watering; this afternoon I was able to harvest enough to make a pasta salad for supper.

Rick and I were awakened a couple nights ago by what sounded like a brief clatter at our bedroom door. We laid in bed trying to figure out what made the sound and heard nothing more, so drifted off to sleep again. The next morning on my way to the barn, I figured out the source. An exterior light fixture outside the basement door below our bedroom window was hanging by a wire. Blame the heat?

A fixture like this, without the wind chime

The Tour de Fleece wrapped up on Sunday; I spun every day of this event on my Jenkins spindles. I have a bit more of this fiber to spin up and then I can ply it. I think it will make a beautiful scarf!

That's it for now at . . .