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Home, Sweet Home

February 2016-

I have developed wanderlust. I become anxious when I settle in one setting or another. I feel as though I need to be on the move and not just in terms of traveling, but within my daily routine as well. Luckily, I live in Humboldt County, California. With the ocean, mountains, and redwood forests within a half hour car ride; I’m content.

Ninety-nine percent of the time if the Redwoods are not the first thought to pop up when mentioning Humboldt County, it is marijuana. The booming industry that has supported the county’s economy for years has also granted numerous opportunities for the community to grow.

Many “medicinal cultivators” are the same people supporting the farmers market, community events, fundraisers, and local businesses daily. It is actually a beautiful circle of life. Humboldt is self sustaining and what I have discovered is the classic rule of any tight woven community; “it’s who you know, not what you know.”


Strangers spark conversations left and right at points as I try to find my solitude, which just illustrates my Midwestern roots tenfold. Besides the strange pronunciation of certain vowels, another distinctive Midwestern trait would be how we tend to keep to ourselves. Not the case on the West coast and I am okay with that. Sure, I am not the most social; however, sometimes it is needed to pry me out of my shell.

The residents add a unique element to Humboldt. Intertwining “unique” and “residents of Humboldt“ can spin out of control into a multitude of different directions. What I am addressing relates to those who are doing what they love for a living as well as volunteering their free time to give back to the community. People support the environment as part of their lifestyle.  Shopping locally, eating well, and being eco-conscious.


With such naturally rich surroundings that I now call home, I cannot help but feel happy and alive. Even when it rains for days, I am still happy. California is in a drought and to see it pour buckets for days straight is reassuring. I also have an excuse to get all tucked away near the warm fire, dazing in and out of consciousness as the droplets rhythmically smack the sky-light above. So soothing. And when the sun breaks, I rush for the door. One minute, one hour, or one day; the sunshine in Humboldt is magnificent and calls for all to take advantage before it’s too late.

The blurry, boiling, orange orb in the sky that is vaguely seen through the fog surrounding, purges the bay quickly to allow a few hours of clarity. Witnessing this lift from the top of Strawberry Rock in Trinidad is just as astounding as driving through the natural phenomenon while in progress on Highway 101.

My friends and I first discovered the awesomeness of road-tripping years ago. One of our favorite aspects was that we were essentially just mobilizing our hangout sessions. Car seats replaced the couch, the windshield became our television, and whatever was cool on T.V, we would stop and take a commercial break.

The car is still my living room and whether sunny or gloomy; happy or sad; I can always go to the ocean or the forest. . Five minutes or five hours; I never get sick of the ocean. It is amazing. It is a good place to reflect. The crashing of the waves cancels out my everyday thoughts enough to drift my mind away across the rough waters to somewhere foreign and unknown. I float between the past, present, and future briefly; yet, the waves take me back to my daydream. And if I am lucky, nothing happens. No thoughts, no ideas, no dreams, no worries, no joys; just simply nothing.


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