From the stern of the ferry. I've always loved this view.We returned this evening from a Columbus Day Weekend trip to Orcas Island and the Farmhouse. I have fantastic memories of a autumnal trip in 2000 when after cool mornings we sat outside in the hot sun in the afternoon. The night was hung like a cherry tree with bright stars, near and ripe for picking. It was the stars in particular that made me want to return. Fall and winter stars work better for children, because they come out before bedtime. So I had talked them up to the children, and only as the date got nearer and the forecast begin to look ominous did I begin to have doubts.
It was cold and windy and rainy. The only stars we saw were from the deck of the ferry on the way which had been delayed long enough that the stars did come out in a briefly cleared sky. I did get to show Peter the Big Dipper and explain how to use the pointer stars to find the North Star and how useful that would be if you were lost in the woods. But the rest of it was a different sort of weekend, more involved with the effort of keeping warm and staying fed without modern conveniences. We ventured out to check on the Merry Men's hideout (still standing) and the creek (no water!) and to Olga to eat blackberry pie at the Olga Store's last day open. The remainder of time we stayed indoors, reading, knitting, cooking and feeding the fire. In that experience the iron cookstove takes on something of a personality. A large dark quiet squat person in the corner, radianting warmth, not unlike a grandmother in the old stories. Keep her fed and she'll warm you and feed you. Neglect her and you'll be sorry.
It was restful, despite the cold, despite the damp, despite the fact that the first night we slept on the bed that feels like sleeping on top of a bowl of Jello. The next night we put children there and slept in the next room. They went to bed easily at nine; it had already been dark for several hours. We retired soon afterward and therefore got a rare long night's sleep.
The entirety was quite a different experience from the crazy joy of our visit in June with all of the cousins, aunts, and grandmas and all the comings and goings and dogs and shouting. This was a peaceful and soft way to embrace Fall.
It was cold and windy and rainy. The only stars we saw were from the deck of the ferry on the way which had been delayed long enough that the stars did come out in a briefly cleared sky. I did get to show Peter the Big Dipper and explain how to use the pointer stars to find the North Star and how useful that would be if you were lost in the woods. But the rest of it was a different sort of weekend, more involved with the effort of keeping warm and staying fed without modern conveniences. We ventured out to check on the Merry Men's hideout (still standing) and the creek (no water!) and to Olga to eat blackberry pie at the Olga Store's last day open. The remainder of time we stayed indoors, reading, knitting, cooking and feeding the fire. In that experience the iron cookstove takes on something of a personality. A large dark quiet squat person in the corner, radianting warmth, not unlike a grandmother in the old stories. Keep her fed and she'll warm you and feed you. Neglect her and you'll be sorry.
It was restful, despite the cold, despite the damp, despite the fact that the first night we slept on the bed that feels like sleeping on top of a bowl of Jello. The next night we put children there and slept in the next room. They went to bed easily at nine; it had already been dark for several hours. We retired soon afterward and therefore got a rare long night's sleep.
The entirety was quite a different experience from the crazy joy of our visit in June with all of the cousins, aunts, and grandmas and all the comings and goings and dogs and shouting. This was a peaceful and soft way to embrace Fall.
Robin Hood's Hideout -- still standing, if somewhat wilted
Chilly but happy, with Old Mother Stove in the backround
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