Magic often hides in the moments we never saw coming.

Last week, I visited my sister in the Portland area. Normally, when I travel somewhere new, I make a plan, map things out, and try to see everything. This time, I didn’t. I simply showed up.

Knowing how much I love the beach, my sister suggested we take a short trip to the coast. On our first day at Cannon Beach, someone mentioned that the next morning’s tide would be the lowest of the season—at 5:30 a.m. I didn’t think much of it at the time.

But the next morning, I found myself walking along the shore just after sunrise. Off in the distance, Haystack Rock rose like a sentinel. Near its base, a surprising number of people had gathered. As I got closer, I saw why. The tide had pulled back to reveal a hidden world—tide pools filled with rocks, sea anemones, starfish, and swaying plant life. The colors, shapes, and textures were astonishing. Families crouched down to point out tiny creatures, volunteers shared stories and answers, and by mid-morning, all of it would be gone—tucked back under the ocean’s surface.

Moments like this are more than beautiful—they feed my work. The rhythms of nature, the shifting layers, the play of light and shadow all find their way into my abstract paintings. This low-tide morning gave me new colors to explore, new textures to layer, and a reminder that inspiration often arrives when I’m open to what the day has to offer.

Travel, and life, can be richer when we leave a little room for surprise.