Rain on the windshield. Sleepy silence in the back seat, steamy coffee curls and NPR in the front. These pictures were taken over a month ago now. It was one of those days we felt pulled to the coast, its siren song strong. We got coffee in Gearhart at a favorite cafe, then headed to Battery Russell and the wreck of the Peter Iredale on the beach in Fort Stevens State Park. My husband and I both have so many memories of this place from when we were kids. My family used to take our beloved 1960s camper here for weekends with church/school groups, and my husband had (and still has) many a family adventure here as well. It still mostly felt like winter, but the Scotch broom was starting to bloom, and we sat ever so still in our car as a coyote walked the edge next to us - a magical moment - filling us with a joyful wonder and anticipation of spring. We then drove to Astoria, found a charming delapidated old blue house on the hill we almost bought right before we got married, and then ate at a vegan cafe where I had the best tempeh sandwich. We drove a back way home, passing through Scappoose and a then a part of Portland we don't normally see. Oh, Oregon coast. Oh, family. Oh, memories.