Visitors in Oysterville
It’s Monday morning here in Greater Downtown Oysterville. The house and garden are more-or-less in order after the festivities of the weekend – just a few overturned Adirondack chairs, but that was from the wind not from our family reunion activities. Cuzzin Ralph is the only relative still on the premises, sheets and towels are in the washing machine, and two writing deadlines are calling to me.
Still… I can’t get the images of the last few days out of my mind. It’s hard to believe that we packed so much fun into forty-eight hours and it’s even more amazing that it all took place under sunny blue skies. None of that moist marine air that is so often with us in summer – especially in the mornings. It’s back today though – just so we don’t get to feeling too close to perfection.
At the Wachsmuths’
It was even beautiful at night. One of our houseguests sat outside after dark watching the night sky and marveling at the shooting stars. “We don’t see any of that on Mercer Island,” Cindy said. “Too much ambient light. I could have stayed out there all night long… but then I got to wondering about bears!”
Nothing in Oysterville qualified as ambient except maybe the bonfire over at Tucker and Carol’s – and only if you stood next to the churchyard fence (which I did) to chat with them for a few minutes. And whether or not there were any bears or other critters around is anyone’s guess. I say, “Probably.” But they left us to our own activities, at least at this end of town.
At the Cowboy Breakfast
Sunday morning we stuffed ourselves at the Cowboy Breakfast and watched a bit of steer roping out in the arena. We returned home to find about a gazillion bike riders from a club in Portland peddling through town. They stopped long enough to ask what our house sign Tsako-Te-Hahsh-Eetl means (Place of the Red-Tipped Grass) and to assure us that they’ll be back next year.
Of course! Who wouldn’t be? It was the kind of weekend that prompts people to buy that little vacation house they’ve been thinking about. One bad winter storm – no maybe two or three because one seems ‘romantic’ – and the For Sale signs will go up again. Mostly, the locals keep their own counsel about the realities of our weather. Or, a few wags may say, “This is pretty typical.” I say, “Buyer beware.”
Casey’s vesper salute to Pete Seeger was, as expected, fabulous. We were invited to sing along with every song and we did. The harmonies and second parts were fabulous. I had to stop singing more than once just to listen. I don’t believe there was a dry eye in the church during his final number “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?”
And now… where has our perfect weekend gone? Gone to wonderful memories, renewed friendships, and to some deep thoughts, as well. Perfect indeed!
It was a wonderful weekend. So sorry we missed the vesper services. In spite of leaving early, it still took 5 hrs to reach home. We had a wonderful time and so blessed to have a sunny warm weekend.