At the Edge of the Sea

Yaquina Head, Oregon

There are places that seem to exist at the very edge of things- where land gives way to water, wildflowers grow above black rock, and the horizon asks nothing of you but to look.

On a warm day at the end of July, I found myself at Yaquina Head on the Oregon coast.

The lighthouse rose above the headland, white against an impossible blue sky. Below, waves moved through the rocks while seabirds gathered along the cliffs. Everywhere I looked, something was moving- the water, the birds, the grasses bending in the sea air.

And among all that wildness, morning glories were blooming.

I always seem to notice the flowers.

There was something beautiful about their softness growing beside such a rugged place. Delicate white trumpets opening toward the sun, while beyond them the Pacific stretched farther than I could see.

I wandered slowly that day.

Along the cliffs.

Past the wildflowers.

Stopping again and again to watch

the water below.

And all the while, the lighthouse stood above it- quietly keeping watch at the edge of the sea.

Some places don't ask us to do anything with them.

Only to notice.

And perhaps to stay a little longer than we planned.

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