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The rain runnels and showers over my windshield.  Big dollops cascade from overhanging trees and threaten to stall my whipping wiper blades.  Swollen streams and rivers lap over the tops of their banks and run chocolate brown. In places they creep out over the asphalt and set me on edge as the tires shoot water into the wheel wells in a ricocheting blast.

High tides and melting snow bring the Salmon, the Nestucca, Hawk Creek and Neskowin Creek to flood stage. Everything is washed.  Spruce and fir fade to black a few feet into the rainforest as water absorbs the light.  Their tops drift in and out of mists that skid along the base of low moving clouds.

Lasts week’s storm has left the wet pavement strewn with limbs and needles and bark.  Several trees blew down and jagged shreds of their soaked orange interiors spike high in the air where they snapped off in wind bursts of 90+ mph.  Their trunks, some nearly 100 feet in length, have been pulled off of the highway…limbed, cut and stacked by road crews.

As I reach Neskowin in the late afternoon, I scan the beach.  There are two bald eagles feeding on fish just across the creek. The wind huffs and blusters and gray light threatens to darken into an early evening. I know there could be days of this. Another storm is due in tonight.  It’s winter. It’s Oregon. And I feel back home.

Blowing Rain