What wonders do you unseeingly drive by every day?

In case you didn't notice, I took last week off. If you didn't notice, don't sweat it. I'm not offended.

My family and I spent the last week-and-a-half in western Canada. We descended upon my parents' house, where the kids made themselves at home and put the property through its paces. I got to catch up with extended family members, former coworkers, and current collaborators. It was a great time.

At the end of our trip, we took a detour and visited my favorite place in the whole world: Ucluelet, a small town on the west coast of Vancouver Island .

Growing up, I didn't get to see a whole lot of Vancouver Island. Our family camping and fishing trips took us into British Columbia's interior, which is beautiful in its own right. I was introduced to other glories, like the thrill of a rainbow trout on your fishing line and the eerie warmth of loon calls echoing across evening lake waters.

Since I discovered Ucluelet, though, the ocean has stolen my heart.

People in Nashville often ask me what I miss about British Columbia. Aside from the people I know and love back there, the first thing I mention is always the ocean. Specifically, the Pacific Ocean. And the truth is that I really have the beaches of Ucluelet and Tofino in mind, though I guess I'd make do Greater Vancouver's tame, pebbly oceanfronts if I had to.

I don't need a sandy beach to be happy (though they are nice). What I long for are the fierce, unpredictable waves of Vancouver Island's unprotected coast.

When we lived in B.C., we traveled to Ucluelet in every season and got to experience its many different sides. The lush green of spring; the fierce sweat of summer; the chilly sunsets of autumn; the breathtaking storms of winter. I love them all.

It doesn't matter what season you're there: the waves constantly remind you that they are bigger and more powerful than you are. Just three days ago, the boys and I were clambering on Big Beach's rocks as the tide came in. I keep a close eye on them – especially our six-year-old, who may or may not have too much faith in his "mountain goat" skills – and I make sure that we're never in danger of being stranded on the rock islands. Yet, there's nothing like the wonderful heart rush of an unexpectedly large wave shattering itself on rocks that are mere yards in front of you. You feel it in your chest. You're left a little breathless. You can't stop watching the ocean, hoping for the heart rush to return, even as you know that it'll likely be several minutes before a similar wave recurs.

The area is chock full of trails, all of which are worthwhile. My personal favorite is the Wild Pacific Trail's Lighthouse Loop. It's a treacherous area for ships – hence the lighthouse – but the monstrous jagged rocks make for some spectacular viewing. Especially if you catch it at sunset at high tide. (Something I've only managed to do once, sadly. I need to remember to book these trips around the tides.)

As you walk along the ocean cliffs, the trail constantly veers off into viewpoints, each one more picturesque than the last.

We made our mandatory visit to the loop last Friday, and it did not disappoint. Our kids dutifully let us know that we're wretched parents for compelling them to complete this hike, even as they raced back and forth, visiting every single viewpoint and demanding that their photos be taken at regular intervals.

It was everything a family trip should be.

But as I walked, a question occurred to me: how often do Ucluelet's locals avail themselves of this beauty? I won't lie that I felt (and still feel) some envy about their everyday scenery. Do they wake up every day and explode with gratitude over all this beauty? Or is it all humdrum to them, nothing more than their particular backdrop for their particular mundanities?

Don't take those comments as a judgment, because that's not my intent. It actually prompted me to wonder: what wonders do I drive by and fail to see every day in Tennessee?

I don't have an answer just yet, because I'm still on my way back home. But it's a question I'm looking forward to exploring.

And hey – if you end up exploring it yourself, I'd love to hear what you notice about your particular backdrop. What would you see if you were a tourist in your hometown?