Bledded Wiss

  Just me, the head hillbilly, and oh yeah, these two rugged (and I'm thinkin' a little sexy ) adventurers.  

Lewis & Clark monument Seaside, Oregon

We slipped away one stormy afternoon. Seriously, rain, snow, wind, power outages, the whole shebang, for a small celebratory get-a-way for our anniversary to the touristy beach community of Seaside, Oregon.   This town will be hopping in just a few short weeks when Spring break happens.  But for now, it was all ours baby! We stayed at  Shilo Inn (my favorite for the frugally minded), on the left.  An avenue to the sea lies between these two motels where a circular drive takes visitors around these two historical figures and the words " End Of The Trail".  The starfish lights on the lamp posts gave an evening on the avenue a quaint  "flavor of the sea" ambiance.  

We arrived in time to unwind, open a bottle of wine, pop some microwave popcorn and serendipitously watch the storm clouds part and the setting sun in a spectacular silvery show light up the ocean and then slip below the horizon.  It inspired me to pull out my sketch pad to commemorate the occasion.  My beloved and I lingered in the moment but for a few minutes before he said " let's go eat!"  

A tempestuous sea

We enjoyed a complimentary glass of wine in Shilo's Boardwalk Restaurant and an ocean view as we dined.  When the ocean view disappeared into darkness the above gas fire pit with glowing logs surrounded with sand provided that bon-fire on the beach atmosphere.  That sand!  It just beckons, "touch me!".  Doesn't it?....

Of course it does!

Hillbilly Love

Young love. First love. It's powerful stuff. The drama and passion of young love is so profound that the afflicted are compelled by forces (nearly beyond their control it seems) to forever immortalize it on , well, stone, or wood, or in the case of some hillbilly youth,

STEEL.

A steel entry gate on a logging road to be exact.

Oh yes, she really loved Cody. I remember.






And maybe Kyle too. But I don't recollect him.

J? Well J had it all goin' on for B.



But then, young love is fickle, hot then cold, and often times unrequited.

The frustration similarly proclaimed and permanently inscribed.






And when the boiling kettle of affection has been reduced to a slow simmer and eventually turns cool.






A poet is born.