Oysterville through the Tall Grass
It’s Nyel’s birthday and, as always on this day, I notice that the dawn is coming later by the clock. Logic tells me that it’s been happening since the summer solstice but I never seem to pay attention until now. Then, suddenly, the days grow shorter and we feel we’d better hurry up and enjoy summer while it lasts.
I notice the feel of fall on our walks around town, too. The meadow grasses are at optimum height but fading to yellow and looking more fragile than they did a month ago. When the tide’s out, the view seems more somber and, somehow, a precursor to the more extreme tides of winter. In the old gardens of the village, fruit trees are laden with plums and pears and apples almost ripe enough for picking.
Low Tide on Willapa Bay
It’s the hurry-up time of year – the quick-get-it-done-before-school-begins time that I remember from childhood and reinforced, no doubt, by thirty-nine teaching years. Along those lines (and as a birthday celebration for Nyel) we are going to Eastern Oregon for a few days. It’s bound to be referred to in the future as The Great Obsidian Hunt. Glass Butte is a rock-hounding site on BLM land where visitors may take up to 25 pounds of obsidian a day for personal use.
What, exactly, Nyel will be doing with the obsidian is unclear to me. Perhaps, as fall approaches and the rains begin, he’ll be setting up a flint-knapping area out in the garage. It’s probably a guy thing – getting in touch with those primal urges. The gal-thing, at least for me, is to go along for the ride and clap and cheer. And wish him many happy returns of the day!
Have a very Happy Birthday Nyel and we will be thinking of you two as you hunt for obsidian.