Before the Race

The rain smattered and pattered right up until the starting horn blew at yesterday’s Oysterville Regatta.  From then on, it remained dry (mostly) and was suitably windy (actually, more than)  for the nine competing boats and their redoubtable skippers.

Judy and Charlie – Photo by Vicki

There were some gnarly gusts, though, catching a number of the sleek laser sailboats just wrong and over they’d go.  Exciting for us shoreside spectators, difficult for the stalwart sailors, and cause for the rescue jet skier (Doug Knutzen) to zip hither and thither throughout the race.  Thankfully, the event was disaster-free, though there was one problem that caused a skipper to drop out after the first heat and another boat lost its rudder for a few tense minutes.  The consensus: easier sailing than last year but enough excitement to last until Regatta 2019!

Admiral of the Fleet – Photo by Vicki

Afterwards, the Awards Dinner, the culminating Regatta event each year since the early 1990s, surpassed all expectations!  Orchestrated by Carol Wachsmuth and daughter Lina, and hosted by Lina and Dave, there was a fabulous array of food and beverages (served by our favorite professional Pamela and her friend Lisa) – even a special beer for the occasion, brewed by Carol and Tucker’s son Charley! Music was provided by Judy and Charlie of Double J and the Boys. In addition to the stars of the day, nearly all of Oysterville was in attendance along with friends and relatives from as far away as Germany.

Friends and Family

Tucker, in his capacity as Admiral of the Fleet and Master of Ceremonies, presented the awards – the trophies all crafted by him and taking on more significance with each passing year.  The Oyster Cup is adorned with each winner’s name and goes back to 1994!  There were tee shirts (also designed by Tucker) for all participants and workers and, to cap it all off, he treated us to his “2018 Regatta Song” – plus a review of past celebratory compositions as well!  Wow!

Regatta Pinata Grandkids

The youngest children raced around the periphery, adorned in the colorful remains of an afternoon piñata attack.  Old friends renewed acquaintences and new friendships were forged.  As it grew dark, a fire was lit in the firepit, various instruments began to appear, and guests gathered ’round to join in on old favorites.  As Nyel and I walked home, we talked about our good fortune to live in this lovely place in the company of good friends and neighbors.  It really doesn’t get much better than Regatta Day in Oysterville!

There seems to be a steady stream of summer visitors making their way to our front door these days, and not just by the usual overland route!  Mama and Papa swallow are clotting up the airways, too.  Keeping four hungry babies fed is definitely a full-time job.

On the days when people traffic is at maximum density – like during the Gordon Memorial Picnic on Monday – our little avian enclave gets pretty testy.  The babies stretch their necks right out of their nest and open those beaks in a frenzy of expectation.  The adult swallows swoop around just beyond the overhanging porch roof, waiting their opportunity.  Closer and closer they dart toward the offensive humans – not threatening exactly, but certainly demanding.

I have not been loathe to remind those two adults that we tried to warn them.  The lintel above our front door is not a good place for raising babies.  That was during nest-building season last year.  Nyel took a more direct approach than my verbal warnings.  He flat-out knocked down each attempt before even the foundation was completed.  But, clever contractors that they are, they re-doubled their efforts (maybe called in an extra crew) and in one single day while we were away, their nest was completed and Mama swallow was ensconced by the time we returned.

We knew they would be back this year and, though Nyel threatened to get rid of the nest before they arrived, he somehow never got around to it.  I suspect there’s a soft spot in there somewhere but don’t say I said so. Plus, the builders had carefully placed that nest at the far end of the door frame so their droppings aren’t directly in the path of our comings and goings.  Thoughtful, I pointed out.

After the last guest had gone Monday and I was doing a little tidying up, babies and parents must have decided that they could cope with a single person.  Either that or getting food to those hungry quadruplets meant throwing caution to the wind.  There were a couple of wonderful photo ops and when I showed those pictures to Nyel, even he was suitably impressed.  Not oohing and aahing exactly… but close.

South Garden

“Has your house ever been on the Garden Tour?” our visitor asked.  We were standing on the south porch with a riot of daisies and climbing roses and nasturtiums and I-don’t-know-what-all smiling at us in the sunshine.

“No,” I laughed.  “We’ve never been asked.”  I didn’t offer to take her around to the rest of the yard so she could see for herself that we could never qualify – at least not in the middle of summer.  ‘The Merrie Month of May’ might be another story.  Then, many of our rhododendrons are in bloom and there is actually some ‘garden’ to our yard – if you know what I mean.  In July… not much happening except in that southwest corner.  And that, in truth, is a feast for the eyes.

Ready for the Oven

What totallyy qualifies for summer around here, though, is Nyel’s cooking!  Even with our oven “off limits” (we are still smelling propane and waiting for the hooker-upper-people to come with their testing equipment), Chef Nyel manages to pull it all together.

Earlier this week:  gazpacho!  Yum!  Last night: tomato pie baked in my mother’s old roaster oven.  “Never get rid of anything that might prove useful someday” is Nyel’s motto.  Instead of making me eat crow for all my years of asking “Can’t we recycle that?” he served up the most delicious tomato pie ever!  What a guy!  What a feast!  What a summer!

As it turned out, we couldn’t make it to the Fourth of July Parade in Ocean Park yesterday, but thanks to Tucker’s good eye and amazing photography skills, we can clap and cheer after the fact and for a long time to come.  Especially for Grand Marshall Dan Driscoll and his outstanding Oysterville entourage – Lady Linda Engelsiepen and Dan’s parents Les and Ann Holway Driscoll!

They all looked fabulous and their ‘chariot’ was decorated to perfection!  I especially loved the “Don’t Tread On Me” flag affixed to the back of their convertible.  Good choice, Dan!  There couldn’t have been a better one for oh so many reasons!

Known as the “Gadsden flag,” it is a historical American flag named after American general and politician Christopher Gadsden (1724-1805) who designed it in 1775 during the American Revolution.  The timber rattlesnake depicted on the flag can be found in the area of the original 13 colonies and its use as a symbol to depict the colonies can be traced back to Benjamin Franklin who wrote this about it in December 1775:

. I recollected that her eye excelled in brightness, that of any other animal, and that she has no eye-lids—She may therefore be esteemed an emblem of vigilance.—She never begins an attack, nor, when once engaged, ever surrenders: She is therefore an emblem of magnanimity and true courage.—As if anxious to prevent all pretensions of quarreling with her, the weapons with which nature has furnished her, she conceals in the roof of her mouth, so that, to those who are unacquainted with her, she appears to be a most defenseless animal; and even when those weapons are shown and extended for her defense, they appear weak and contemptible; but their wounds however small, are decisive and fatal:—Conscious of this, she never wounds till she has generously given notice, even to her enemy, and cautioned him against the danger of stepping on her.—Was I wrong, Sir, in thinking this a strong picture of the temper and conduct of America?

The words, “Don’t Tread On Me” speak for themselves and, to those of us who have watched the lengthy battle the County has waged against Dan – seven years!! – there is no way the symbolism can be misinterpreted.  The American Revolutionary War also lasted seven years.

And, a resounding Hip! Hip! Hooray to the Ocean Park Chamber for selecting Dan as Grand Marshall.  The best choice ever!