Traveling Coffee Girl

  • My Love Letter to Oregon

    “You were already more beautiful than anything I dared to dream. In our years apart, my imaginings did their best to improve your perfection. At night, your face was forever behind my eyes. And now I see that that vision who kept me company in my loneliness was a hag compared to the beauty now before me.”

    These were the words of Westley in William Goldberg’s The Princess Bride when he saw Princess Buttercup after five years apart. Few quotes so perfectly encapsulate my feelings each time I return to Oregon. I’ve visited this awe-inspiring state five times in the last ten years, and each time, it’s a new experience. Each time I want to stay. Each time, leaving feels like heartbreak, and I feel silly crying during take-off.

    It’s been three years since my last time back; three years since I’ve seen the world in amazing technicolor, stood in the warmth of the waters at Sunset Bay, seen a cranberry bog, or walked through the radiant gardens of Shore Acres.

    My last day in Oregon was the morning of August 27, 2023. Before returning my rental car to the Rogue Valley Airport, I took one more detour down Hwy 99 so I could take the long route from Central Point to Ashland. Ashland, Oregon has always been my magical playground. That morning, it became its own love letter.

    Walking through Lithia Park that morning, beneath the lingering haze from the California fires, I walked to the pond and realized– I needed coffee. Unlike my first visit to Ashland in 2016, I was simultaneously much more adventurous and a smidgen more lazy. I had only walked a block before I discovered the tiny Handlebar Bike and Coffee Shop with its scrumptious selection of sweeties, coffee, and a community art wall.

    Walking back through Lithia Park with a coffee in hand, I heard music. At first, I couldn’t find the source. Following a path through the park felt like following the sound of my life’s soundtrack, and I wanted to know what the next scene would look like. At the end of the path sat a man wearing a red hat, playing a cello. This was the defining moment when I not only fell in love with the sound of the cello, but also with the spiritual joy of impromptu live music. His name was Daniel Austin Sperry. The song he played I remembered best was Butter Yellow Lullaby Dance for Carol. He said it was a song he wrote for a lady who liked to paint every home she lived in yellow.

    “I’m done with the game, the Queen of Hearts called,
    Crying for past illusion’s abyss
    Of a home of butter yellow
    And memories not her own.
    Life turned its corner
    Once the strings were cut.
    A card of music was turned;
    The Ace wore red
    While drinking from a turquoise cup.
    The trees coughed and whispered their applause.”

    As Daniel played, I scrawled out some poetic nonsense that only I would understand. Reading it now, I captured a description of the moment in all its ephemeral sanctity.

    That moment was a encapsulated everything I love about Oregon; the literature-inspired architecture of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival overlooking the park, the colorful yoga mats waiting for the morning class as a student who looked like Gandalf warmed up nearby, a doe and her fawn strolling along the lawn and past the stores as if going school shopping, an outdoor market set up nearby with artists who enjoy taking a moment to share about their creative journeys and beam with happiness when their work was discovered and cherished.

    Oregon is where I first noticed the main character vibes of the world. A place where the scenery and atmosphere flirt with the senses, making the moment feel like a movie and the main character (you) feel alive. It’s beautiful and tragic all at once, fulfilling and fleeting.

    This is my love letter to you, Oregon. We’ll be together soon.

    Is there a place in this world that has your heart? If you could write a Love Letter to your favorite place in the world, what would you say? Tell me about it and Let’s Explore More together.

    ~Miss Marie

  • It’s the Time of Year to Slow Down

    It’s New Year’s Day, 2026. I am sitting on a cold, mist-soaked bench on a gray and rainy day on the silent beach of Goldwater Lake. A duck is sitting motionless in the center of the water. The mountain valley usually visible from here is draped in a sleepy white blanket of fog. I can see my breath, and it reminds me to put on my gloves. It was an impulse decision. It was my waking thought after five and a half hours of sleep. It was the persistent idea that nagged at me the entirety of my morning yoga practice. It was the thought that convinced me breakfast could wait until late morning: I really wanted my first writing of the new year to be beside a lake. So, I’m sitting here beside a lake on a foggy Thursday morning contemplating life exactly like the duck in the middle of the lake.

    I want one experience each day that reminds me I am alive. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, life-affirming, or near-death to be an “experience.” I want to keep promises broken to my younger self and create memories that become stories. Something the senses can enjoy. Something that brings a noticeable feeling of peace. Something that makes me understand more. This misty morning writing session by Goldwater Lake is my January-1 moment. Normally, I would have taken a walk along the trail around the lake or found a spot among the trees to overlook the vista. Today, I am sitting front-and-center on a cold, wet, adirondack bench. The last time I walked these shores it was Spring, and I realized I needed this reminder to slow down and take a moment to breathe and enjoy the quiet.

    The hardest thing for me is making my brain slow down. No, it’s not the daily coffee. The coffee actually helps me keep up. In a ridiculously busy and info-saturated world of technology, drama, and breaking news, we need an escape to enjoy the quiet, to take time to focus on focusing. Is it any wonder that people take up hiking as a way to walk away from the noise and enjoy nature, even for just a moment? That has to be indicative of something. 

    “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden (1854)

    I need this moment to calm my racing mind, to breathe. The bees buzzing through my head are quiet for once, and I get five seconds without extra input. Just this moment. That’s my focus for this year, slowing down and enjoying each experience. That includes waking up a little earlier to experience more of the day.

    Living in survival-mode made my brain as foggy as this lake and its pine laden hills. The past few years have been more a furious blur of events and countdowns rather than experiencing the universe’s magic around me. It’s the difference between enjoying a nice meal and blending a nice meal into a smoothie for efficiency. The mind learns and grows using all five of our innate senses, and busy minds need a moment to enjoy the sensations happening right now, to bask in the fullness of this moment. Sometimes, that requires removing yourself from all the places your mind inhabits, and focus on focusing.

    Take your moment. Breathe, observe, notice, listen, bask, enjoy.

    Let’s Coffee Chat: What helps you slow down and relax more? I’d love to hear — leave a comment or come back anytime.
    ~Miss Marie — Traveling Coffee Girl

  • It Was the Day After Christmas- Now What?

    Adulting nowadays feels a lot like the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, especially when you’ve entered into your empty-nester phase. As children, everything in the world was new, magical, fascinating, and beautiful. We were encouraged to play, create, and grow our imagination. When we set higher goals for ourselves many of us were cheered on and supported. A dream could feel like a future back then.

    At some point, that empowerment to be more became about survival and maintenance. The hope endowed upon us to make a better world was passed onto the younger generation and the generation after that. We grew up, paid too many bills, paused our dreams indefinitely, tried to blend in, and created our families.

    Then, one day, the children have started their own lives in pursuit of their dreams. After the boxes are packed, you notice the house is more organized and less chaotic. The holidays feel a little more quiet and we finally get a moment to reflect on all the years that blurred past while we were fussing about, trying to make sure everything was “just right”, as if we were preparing for a show rather than living our lives. This is typically when people begin talking about preparing for the Third Act of life, but it feels like we missed the whole Second Act.

    One day, when the the dust has settled, there comes a moment. That moment when you take a sip of coffee, stare out the window as you really notice the silence, and suddenly remember a child who had big dreams. The child who was excited about Christmas and knew Santa Claus was real; the child who was a leader and thought everyone was her friend; the child who wanted to be an actor, a writer, and an artist. That’s the moment you remember. The magic isn’t gone, but the technique is a little rusty. Empowering dreams still feels important.

    The week between Christmas and the New Year is not about making resolutions or creating a new version of yourself. This time is a gift. Accept it as an intermission. Take time to process everything and then remember the magical being you truly are, built by dreams. Instead of focusing on some ethereal Final Act, consider how you want your story to go next. It’s your life to live and your story to write, after all. You are the writer, the actor, and the director. Give yourself permission to Dream Big again.

    You don’t need to wait for the holidays to make your dreams come true. Sometimes, all you need is warm cup of coffee, a moment of reflection, and the courage to build the life you want to have right now. What would you do if you could do anything?

    Come back whenever you want to talk. The coffee is always ready.

    ~Miss Marie – Traveling Coffee Girl


  • The Journey Begins : My First Step to Falling in Love with the Coffee Community

    I didn’t always love coffee. In fact, for the first few decades of my life, I HATED it. I blame the 1980s and the love for everything instant. I was 10 years old when my dad first let me try a sip of his morning cup of instant Taster’s Choice. I still think that “Taster” had something wrong with their taste buds because it turned me off of coffee for far too long.

    During the 1990s, shows like Friends and hearing about writers who used the uniquely curated coffeehouse atmospheres as inspiration for their stories made me feel like I was being left out of a club full of fun and creativity. It was the smell of coffee that was impossible to hate. Something about its warm inviting bouquet transported me back to the memories of stopping at coffee shop with my dad while we traveled through the Southwest. Whenever I was in a grocery store coffee aisle or smelled coffee brewing, I inhaled deeply. That smell was and is one of the few scents that immediately calms my nervous system. How could something that smelled so damned good taste so awful?

    It all changed one Saturday night when a friend suggested coffee after an evening of shooting pool. It was that evening I discovered two important truths: first, that freshly brewed coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar was glorious. Second, coffee helps me focus. It became the difference between being able to function like a seemingly regular adult versus my brain sounding like a thousand lost bees trying to find their queen.

    While I had softened to coffee’s warm embrace, I didn’t fall in love with it until 2017. Coffee and I had a close friendship with a lot of heavy flirtation, but there wasn’t any real commitment. Coffee had infiltrated my life, becoming a daily necessity broken up by the occasional “Caramel Macchiato” or Turkish Coffee. But the thought of diving into the artisinal world of coffee roasters and coffee houses hadn’t yet begun to cross my mind.

    For years, my biggest coffee adventures were located within the occasional diner or at any of the five Starbucks within walking distance of my apartment. The way I viewed coffee began to change the morning I caught my first glimpse of Ashland, Oregon. I would never be the same.

    Oregon Shakespeare Festival

    The only thing I knew about Ashland was that it was the home of THE Oregon Shakespeare Festival. My first introduction to Oregon coffee was Zoey’s Cafe and All Natural Ice Cream. The simple elegance of the transparent coffee mug was my first fixation in coffee-photography. Not only did it create fantastic photographs,but the taste of chilled cream mixed into freshly-brewed coffee on a crisp morning blended perfectly with the magic of the artistic town that titillated my imagination.

    Even after my star-crossed encounter, I did find myself at Starbucks later that day. It was a familiar place to sit for a moment and charge my phone. That was the place where I first experienced Oregonian hospitality and how coffee could bring people together.

    The conversation in the back room of that Starbucks began with me asking for a charging port for my phone. The next thing I knew, a roomful of customers were collectively discussing the pros and cons of Androids and iPhones.  I don’t remember everything we talked about that afternoon, but I do remember the unmistakable energy. We never learned each other’s names, but for one hour, we felt like friends and not strangers. Finally, I was starting to feel part of the club. But, there was more to that journey than I could ever have imagined possible.

    Continue the coffee journey with me. This is only the beginning.




    ~Miss Marie – Traveling Coffee Girl