As I drive down the PCH and take in grand, picturesque views of the ocean, I am struck with awe. It still doesn't grow old - the piercing blue of the water. the waves that crash upon the shore and like a magnetic pull, are drawn back to the very thing that pushed them away. the adventures by the break-rocks, discovering starfish, anemones, and crabs. It's so unique to me. 


I grew up in a land where the deer bounded across the fields and the beavers kept daming up the brooke through my grandfather's farm. I enjoy exploring and spending hours staring out at the vast expanse in front me, knowing I am quite literally sitting on the edge of the United States.

Yet as I sit in awe and wonder, I yearn for the grass on the other side of the fence, the comfort of home.
(Here's where you grab a cup of a tea, press play and just listen... You're welcome.)


I've started listening to my fall playlist lately. It's funny how certain songs just bring you back to a feeling or emotion, a place, or a memory. I've been desperately needing a grand dose of Amy Seeley and A Fine Frenzy mixed in with Ty Burkum, Travis, Simon & Garfunkel, John Denver, Sarah McLachlan and of course my certain song selections of Lorie Line. 

I've been living in California for over a year now and the lack of true seasonal changes affects me more than I'm comfortable with. Usually around this time I look forward to our grey days filled with an autumnal chill. I enjoy sipping a chai as I take walks through the woods and around the lakes. I adorn myself in jackets and scarves, drive unhurriedly up north to towns like Taylors Falls, past Duluth into Grand Marais, and McGregor, and nestle myself in the quiet of the woods.

A drive with no ambition, meandering roads to a destination unknown.
Grand Marais Bound - October 2008


It's my favorite Northern Shore town.
Quaint and cozy, it's the home of one of my favorite authors, Susan May Warren.
Grand Marais, October 2005

From "Lookout Rock" in Taylors Falls, the St. Criox River.
Minnesota on one side, Wisconsin on the other.
Brought together by fall scenery.


One of my favorite places for walks while I was at Northwestern.
Just several blocks away this pathway wrapped around the lake. 


For whatever reason, as summer fades into autumn, I grow more introverted. I typically gather my energy from long nights filled with friendly laughter and mischief. Yet autumn falls upon me and I seek out the quiet nooks where I'd rather hide than seek.

It's unsettling, still, to have not found that place, that fallen log in the woods to sit by as the skies turn grey and the threat of the winter nips at the heels of summer.

There are sights I see here that I don't take for granted: the mountains as I turn the corner to head to work in the morning, the view coming down the grade, the complete vastness of the serenely blue ocean water, or the crisp green palm trees contrasted against the sky. I do love it here. It's quite exquisite, and whenever I return to the midwest, they will be missed.

In the meantime, forgive me if I'm a bit homesick for the crisp autumn air and the crunch of leaves underfoot.