Monday, August 18, 2008

The Weekend...

… began with our usual cup of tea, then a drive into East Sound with George to the farmer’s market—a venue from he is usually excluded by California law. We had little to buy—just a few vegetables and some fruit—but Ellie found plenty to occupy herself with the various crafts stalls. There were many of these, a testament to the creative spirit of those who live here: jewelry, metalwork, textiles, ceramics… When interspersed with the produce, the baked goods, the sausage stands—we bought a couple to bring home for Sunday dinner—it was a gladly motley gathering, where everyone seemed mellow and grateful for a warm Saturday morning for the event. Unfortunately, though I’d had the foresight to hitch my camera bag to my belt, I was foolish enough to forget that it was there, and neglected to take a single photograph. Too bad.

I can claim that I was distracted, though, because at the market we ran into our friends Arthur and Judy from Laguna Beach, who are also up here on the island—they for two weeks, an enviable improvement on our one. We had been trying to reach other by cell phone since our arrival here, but the vagaries of connectability had prevented our meeting until this chance moment. We were delighted to see them, and more than delighted to be invited over to their place later in the day for late afternoon appetizers and dinner.

With our marketing done, we stopped by at the small theater to see if we could get tickets for the chamber concert series scheduled for next week, but discovered that they are already sold out. Cancelations are a possibility, we understand, if we wait by the ticket office to pounce before the concert. We’ll see. Back at our bungalow, we made a sandwich and spent a lazy afternoon beneath the apple trees with books until four o’clock, when we abandoned George to his own devices and drove down the road, three miles or so, to where Arthur and Judy have rented a delightful home for their stay. (We were impressed to find a fine drawing by David Ligare on the wall there—an artist Ellie showed at her gallery many years ago, and for whom I once wrote a catalogue text.)

Here’s the view from their balcony…


Arthur had grilled some excellent corn and salmon steaks, and Judy had prepared a fine, fresh salad, which we much enjoyed, along with a glass of white wine—despite the determined efforts of a squadron of yellow-jackets to spoil things for us. Good conversation, too. As a professor at UCLA, Arthur is more than well-informed about the environmental crisis that we have created for ourselves on the planet, and we learned a great deal in the course of the evening—much of it not entirely cheerful news. Mindful of George in his solitary state, we left in good time and drove home in the twilight, grateful for good friends and a lovely evening.

Sunday morning, after a light first breakfast (we have traditionally a late-morning bacon and scrambled egg breakfast on Sundays) we stopped by the gas station, where we had been told we could get a Sunday NY Times, but the papers had not yet arrived. We put our name down to hold a copy and drove on down the east side of the sound to Cascade Lake for a long hike around the perimeter.






It’s a beautiful spot, and quiet!


We met only a couple of other people on the three-mile path, until we reached the south end, where we came across a camp site and were surprised to find a delightful family with a Cavalier King Charles spaniel.


We admired their immaculate site, which looked to us a lot more comfortable than many of the motel rooms we have stayed in. George, I have to say, was his usual aloof self, but deigned to pose for a picture with Polo the dog and Chloe, a sweet little six-year old, and of course her parents. It is wonderful to have these chance encounters with genuinely friendly folk… and I always regret a little that they are so fleeting: there’s a sadness in moving on with the knowledge that we will never really get to know them.

The hike began to seem like a very long one towards the end. It felt like a lot more than the advertised mileage. And yet so refreshing to the spirit to be out in the natural world, with barely a hint of the human presence.


We paused to take pictures of late-blooming foxgloves...

... now in the their moment of entropy; and fungus growing from the roots of a felled tree.


The persistence and diversity—and the temporality—of life in all its forms.

Heading back to East Sound, we searched for a shady place to sit outside with George and at the same time hook up to the Internet in order to make changes to the plans for our return trip south. We have decided to avoid a second stop in Portland, and instead to shorten at least a couple of the driving days by adding an overnight stay in southern Washington. The Internet can prove to be a wonderfully useful tool on such occasions, and we appreciate the flexibility it affords us.

Back at the bungalow, we fried our bacon and scrambled our eggs, and sat down for a tasty breakfast followed by a quiet afternoon (under the apples trees, again!) with the NY Times and, for me, the luxury of a cigar: La Gloria Cubana. As a reformed cigarette smoker—I quit nearly twenty years ago, after too many years’ addiction to the noxious weed—I have learned to enjoy the occasional cigar on a Sunday afternoon. Cautiously, however, because I know how easily I could become addicted once again. By afternoon, the weather had begun to change: the warm sunlight and blue skies gave way to low clouds and a chill in the air. As we read the newspaper, great rolls of thunder shook the house behind us as a storm passed by, barely missing us. Fortunately, though, we had no more than a few drops of rain and I was able to complete my indulgence without getting wet.

A further indulgence: a glass of wine over the news headlines. I had read in the paper about a new British series, “Skins”—a real look, supposedly, into the lives of teenagers, which turned out to be funny for a while, but ultimately rather saddening. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, with a little anorexia thrown in for good measure. I was distressed, long before the end, to find myself chuckling at the cynical attitudes and antics of these adolescents, and switched off.

For dinner, we warmed up some good sausage, purchased at the farmers’ market yesterday, with onions, steamed squash and boiled red-skin potatoes for an excellent home-cooked meal.

4 comments:

BuckMountain said...

I trust you got my reply to your email. Our AT&T cell phone works quite well at our site on Buck Mountain so maybe you can use that for a justification for a detour.

I've been told that the parking lot of the library has free wireless service. If not you can go inside and use one of their computers.

Enjoying your posts. Wish I were there. We're in Melbourne Beach FL and right now Tropical Storm Fay is paying a visit. Lots of rain and a little wind so far. Not much of a storm compared to the back to back class 2 hurricanes we had back in 2004 except they are now posting tornado warnings for our county (and I don't think there is a storm cellar in the whole county).

Ron

hele said...

I'm loving these posts. Your days sound so full of delight.

robin andrea said...

Just catching up here, Peter. Ah, you've captured what Roger and I loved about living in the northwest. On a beautiful day, it truly is one of the most spectacular places on earth. You truly make me miss it. Glad your adventures have been so good. Lovely pics all the way. When do you begin your journey south?

Peter Clothier said...

Ron, we did get to your property. I imagine there will be pictures in tomorrow's entry.

Hele, so glad to be sharing our pleasure with you! Thanks for joining us.

Robin, we leave Orcas this Friday and stay one more night in southern Washington and two nights on the MacKenzie River in Oregon before visiting friends in Ashland. Then, pretty much straight south from there. How much longer are you spending in OC?