The church has been in various stages of undress over the last month or two as Tom and Jeremy, painters extraordinaire, have scraped and sanded and applied fresh paint to the exterior.  Many people have admired the work but very few commented on the missing top of the steeple.  Maybe folks just don’t look up.  Or maybe it’s another one of those out-of-sight-out-of-mind things.

In any case, the top section consisting of spire and ball was removed last week so that Bradley could gold leaf the ball!  For the last thirty years or so, the ball has been painted yellow.  Susan Holway, who has lived across the street most of her life, vaguely remembers that once upon a time it was red or “carrot cake” as the paint color is called these days. Never before has it been truly gold.  On that we all agree.

Yesterday, Tom and Jeremy returned the top to its rightful place.  Getting it situated exactly perfectly took some doing but when it was solidly affixed it gleamed in the sunshine as “it was always intended to do” declared Tucker Wachsmuth.

We were all more appreciative than ever of the wicked looking spike atop the ball that keeps birds from perching there.  Now, for sure, it is a beacon to catch the eye of every passer-by from both below and above.  Fabulous!

Once the steeple was whole again, Tucker and I, with our paintbrushes in hand, boarded the bucket of the Man-Lift and Jeremy took us skyward.  We were to pose for photographs as though we were putting the finishing touches on the tippy-top of the old church.  Tucker was wearing his President of the Oysterville Restoration Foundation hat; I was the historic connection, repeating my mother’s 1990 Church Lady performance.

I don’t know that we gave enough attention to our painting poses.  Tucker had taken his camera up and was reveling in all the photo-ops from on high. He even asked me to hold his brush for a while.  I, on the other hand, could barely look around.

Since I am a total weenie when it comes to heights, I was hanging on for dear life.  Letting go of that protective railing, even with one hand for one or two seconds, was terrifying.  And, even now as I write about it, my palms are damp with sweat.

Though the steeple is ‘done,’ there is still some painting to be completed closer to ground level.  I have no doubt that when the Tom and Jeremy have finished, the church will look the best it has in all its 120 years from bottom to gilded top.  My great-grandfather, R. H. Espy, (who donated the $1500 to build the church in 1892) would be pleased!