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Treetops freckled the surrounding mountains from the months of March through October. The summer brought an art gallery of plants. This part of Oregon is beautiful year-round.
I want to go to a place where the ocean roars. I want to go to a place where you can hear the wind rushing past your ears. I want to go to a place where seagulls soar so low their wings nearly touch the shadows on the sand .
The road to Veneta is straight and narrow. Fern Ridge on the right, flooded fields on the left. Trees always all around. Muddy water    (from rainfall and the carved out lake)
Weed Thunderstorms Precipitation A sweater Welcome to the pacific northwest.
Deterioration of the mind,  It's but a state of strained helplessness,  As I urge you to do what builds you up, But tears me down.  You tell me that I should learn to be selfish,  To take what I want, 
Umbrella Soft touches graze my arms the cooling touch sinking through my shirt
I strived for perfection Finally perfect my look in the reflection Just like that the mirror cracked Broken once more Pieces to be picked up And reassembled So tired of trying to reconstruct
Infants, toddlers, new-borns *Cutest wittle cheeks I’ve ever seen!* BABIES.   They were the last two of the sweetest and most ripe apples From the tree whose roots lay the foundation of mankind
Body Language With the strut of the Wind, The boundless flow of time. Our minds tend to flutter, With an undying chime.   Speaking through tocs and tics Vision scattered,
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