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Looking southwest across the Yachats "beach," which is only there half the time and then vanishes in a flurry of tidal waves every ten or twelve hours. When it's out, it's pretty nice.

Pepper facing north to the Yachats River, reflecting on his life thus far and contemplating his future. (Both involve birds.)

On the bluff above Rock Creek Beach, looking north. January. This was January.

Surf and clouds. This is not black and white to be artistic. It is black and white because there was hardly any color in it anyway. Same with that San Francisco panorama two entries down. I've decided I actually like color, which wasn't the case for years. But when it isn't working I don't hesitate to flush it. You gotta be firm.

Zuma now, facing north, reflecting on his past and contemplating his future. For him, both involve the joy of a tennis ball and the agony of its disappearance.

These next two come from up the Yachats River. This one's upside-down. Again, not to be artistic. It just looks better this way. I dig the black water of Oregon tidal rivers. When I snapped this pic, the tide was pushing in from the beach. The leaves on the water kept changing direction -- gradually drifting toward the sea, then swiftly turning tail and heading for the hills. It was a scene, man. We sat and watched it for like half an hour. And this was not drug-induced. Unless . . . the clam chowder . . .

Is it just me, or are these odd cows? I like their style, though.