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Forest Love Song | Juxtapositioning
It started two years ago (or was it two millennia?). I rented a wee dollhouse in the forest space high above the rock-strewn beach of Pt. Roberts, WA, a tiny peninsula that juts from Canada into Boundary Bay and that because of oversight or a mapmaker's joke actually belongs to the U.S., requiring border crossings and passports. My dollhouse-in-the-woods was to be the perfect writers' retreat â€" difficult to get to, remote, quiet. I could overlook the tiny bathroom/shower combination, sit on the wee sofa built for two, and write. I found myself drawn outside, though. Late-season blackberries still dotted the tangled vines marking the steep trail down to the beach. Beaches had to be walked. Driftwood and mollusk shells had to be examined. Photos of texture â€" some rocky, some pebbled, some wood-grained â€" had to be snapped. The ocean's calm waves had to be gazed at. Forest trails had to be run through. And I ran through the forest, marveling that every trail felt like it went