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Robin May Fleming  Canadian heart, living on the Olympic Peninsula. iPhone always | ohrobinmay@gmail.com


For a girl who grew up in and around Toronto, I sure have found a piece of my heart out here on the west coast. I wonder if I'll find more pieces in other places? I wonder if I'll find them all?

Oh hello, my little circus peanut! (Fun fact: I've not been able to find my faaaaaavourite marshmallow banana candies since moving to the United States, but circus peanuts are a decent replacement. For those of you who've never had them, they're peanut-shaped, yes. But they taste nothing like peanuts. They are spongy little orange things, and--from what I've heard--you either love 'em or HATE 'em.)

My body is still recovering from Saturday's impromptu snowshoe frolic. Meanwhile, my spirit clamours for more! more! more! How frustrating this divide between ourselves and our selves...

I love all the love for these birds. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by DMs on Instagram, feeling like I can't respond to each with an appropriate level of attention. (To me, that also includes checking out the account of the sender, so I have an idea who I'm speaking with.) But every message I've gotten about these bold little guys has inexplicably energized me. It's the same feeling I get when I'm at a national park and I'm momentarily stunned by the crowds. But then I think: All of these people are choosing to spend their day HERE. Outside. Like us. Each of them woke up this morning and executed a plan to turn off their TVs, to get out of their cars, to be here, now, in this glory. Families, couples, kids, friends, solo explorers.... We are gazing at trees and mountains and wildlife together. We are kindred. And I'm STOKED.

I sat as still as I could today, breathing evenly, my eyes closed tight (but not too tight). I was balancing on a rare beam of energy, all too familiar with the void that lurked beneath. My goal? To get out for a good walk. To rise above the fog. Check. Check. Mission accomplished.

In 2012, at the edge of my 33rd birthday, I made some pretty big, bold wishes. I was as open to the magic of the universe as I've ever been....and more open than I've been since. Sometimes we need circumstance to scrape us down a bit, so our hearts can shine through and illuminate our path. Here, at the edge of 39, I feel a familiar rawness. And my eyes are open wide and ready for that light. xx.

We missed a white Christmas here on the Olympic Peninsula, returning just in time for a grey and green new year.

The softest light and the softest dogs in Morro Bay. These two adopted us for a while, lingering close as we wandered down the beach, one pressing in tight for butt scratches, the other watching from a wary distance, shivering as she reached out once to quickly lick my hand.
I called the number on their tags: "My daughter's surfing," said the woman on the other end. "They're waiting for her. They're fine." And they were. But I still wanted so badly to scoop them up and pop them under our Christmas tree.

It's been four years and two states since we lived here. But some places earn home status forever. See you again soon, Morro Bay. xo.

I'm bottomlessly grateful for these past two weeks with my parents and with my love. Our time together is so easy, and this place we chose to spend it...so special.

Last night was dreamy and peaceful and perfect. This morning we were yanked from sleep at sunrise by an ancient sputtering generator on the next site over, the diesel fumes thick and pungent and awful. Are there any campgrounds that prohibit the non-emergency use of these vile things? If so, that's where we're headed for our next trip. Because this is ridicuuuuuuuulous.

My dad likes his Christmas present.

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