Cyndy’s View of Our House From The Bayside Footpath – 11-3-22
Some folks call it “The Foot Path;” some “The Doggy Walk.” In my grandfather’s day it was “Front Street” — the most easterly in Oysterville. That, of course, was before erosion took most of it out to sea and we were left with just a bit of high ground beyond our east meadow.
It’s a lovely place to walk and take in the vistas that nudge close by — the bay to the east or, if the tide is low, the incredibly rich tideflats stretching as far as the eye can see. And to the west, the fronts of the oldest houses along Territory Road — simple in their construction compared with the newer 20th and 21st century neighbors. A reminder, indeed, of less complicated times.
The Morning Sky Looking Toward The Footpath from Territory Road – Cyndy Hayward 11-17-33
Early on into our sojourn here, Nyel would mow the path now and then in the summer. Residents and tourists and out-of-towners all loved to walk there — clear from Clay Street opposite the church up to Willapa Sea Farms at the north end of town. When Nyel could no longer manage, our neighbor Chris took on the chore. Everyone thanks him — even the many who don’t know he does it. Such an addition to the village!
And, recently, neighbor Cyndy has been heralding the sunrises as she walks her dog Mimi in the mornings! What beautiful, incredible vastness envelopes us! Maybe we should call it “The Sky Path” — at least some of the time. How blessed we are!
The invitation arrived this morning by email from Josephine LaCosta, a woman I’d never heard of (or so I thought) and, apparently an author. I was a part of a string of folks being invited to a book launch party because I was “so generous as to agree to be interviewed by me two years ago for my forthcoming book, Tangerine on the Sill.”
I don’t like to argue with tourists. Mostly, I don’t have to. When visitors to Oysterville happen to ask me questions and I happen to be able to answer, I’m usually met with respectful interest and often with a righteous exchange of information. Learning something new is the part I enjoy most.
A week or so ago, I saw our little Bucky deer over on the west side of Sandridge just across from School Street. He was fairly well camouflaged and watching the traffic closely, not interested in crossing just then, but perhaps storing up traffic information. The car in front of me spotted him and slowed to a stop. Those behind us had no idea what the trouble was but they were respectful and, after we went on, I saw in my rear view mirror that they stopped in their turn to have a look. It’s one thing most of us never tire of.
It’s one of those things that I’m not sure if anyone else notices — the flags in the Oysterville churchyard. Whether they do or not, I’m sure we notice more than anyone because our house is directly across the street. As I walk toward the kitchen, I look out our dining room windows right at the flags. Or, when they aren’t in residence, I look at the empty flagpole.
In any event, it seemed natural that my dad — and then Nyel, in his turn — would take care of the flags. It used to be that they were up year ’round and we would occasionally buy replacements from Jack’s Country Store. Then the protocol became that as the first big storms start rolling in, the flags were taken down. Dad, and then Nyel, used to keep them in our back forty for the next season — unles, of course, they were too battered and frayed — in which case they went to the VFW for proper disposal. (There is a wonderful ceremony that they do annually — perhaps June 14th on Flag Day. I’m not sure.). I think that nowadays ORF replenishes the flags as needed and, since Nyel’s wheelchair days began, Tucker has taken over the flag duties.
