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October 20, 2017 - Amazon Trail by Lee Lynch

Lee Lynch

 

Friends and Other Wonders

We’ve spent the past few days galivanting up and down the Oregon Coast with friends visiting from the U.K. Two months ago, we were doing the same with a couple up from Palm Springs. Last year it was my family from Massachusetts, the year before, my sweetheart’s sister from New Jersey, and in two weeks, long-time friends from the southern part of the state will join us, gasping for sea air after a summer surrounded by wildfires.

Every visitor has brought sunshine, literally. Those who’ve stopped by for an hour or two on their way through town have had a magical effect on our storied dreary weather. While Phyllis and Nancy may have brought good weather with them from Southern California, we can’t say that Jane Fletcher, the brilliantly imaginative fantasy fiction writer from England, and Joanie Bassler, her lively American wife, brought good weather with them. The British endure Oregon-style precipitation levels and coastal storms at home. Yet, their time here could not have been brighter, drier, calmer.

Under such circumstances my sweetheart and I could do nothing but enjoy a spate of convivial visits.

Our small commercial fishing town can’t brag of Broadway lights, ancient ruins, or vast museums. We are not high on the destination vacation list. Mother Nature is the draw here and we are fortunate to have friends who enjoy her many glories.

Take the whales, for example. We spent most of one day with the pond-crossers, waiting breathlessly for signs of whales. Jane found a pod of six leviathans not far from us, timed their progress, and we watched as they swam in a straight line, like an old steam train with six engines spouting along their watery tracks, perfectly synchronized. This was no fantasy.

With Nancy and Phyllis, the elks provided the thrill. We took back roads home from an excellent Mexican restaurant and lucked out. Perhaps a dozen or more elk were having siestas within sight of the road. Nature offers such cheap plentiful entertainment. The back roads also afforded views of ramshackle barns with caved-in roofs, palomino and pinto and chestnut-colored horses, baby lambs gamboling, placid cows chewing their cud. A little waterfall at the side of the road, old farm houses, and a sparkly tidal river.

It’s a gift, spending time with friends whose wild days, like mine, are behind them. Who get excited talking about birds and searching them out. Whose enthusiasm rises when comparing the birds of England, of the desert, of the coast. The colors of feathers, the patterns of flight, our imitations of calls. Where we saw them, which ones we’d like to see. Watching the cormorants settle in the for night on immense, craggy, exposed rocks, and the grebes when they bob over waves. The sudden dart of a small bird through the sea grasses and a line of pelicans flying low. We went out to see the sunset and got entangled in the lives of birds.

And the talking. We seem to make friends with writers and readers. None of us can go ten minutes without some literary reference. I don’t read fantasy novels or any speculative fiction, but listening to Jane Fletcher talk with fervor about world-building and monsters and sorcerers, turned everything fantastical. I felt as if we lived on a magical floating ball where a group of old-hippy-like beings who called themselves Wanders colored the sky with gigantic wands akin to the ones we use to create bubbles.

After Kajmeister and her daughter stopped on their way from Portland south to get together for lunch, I became a devotee of her blog. She is a smart, witty raconteur on subjects that range from homey to cinematic to political. These lesbian friendships that come with age are rich with experience and the certainty of uncertainty, a sort of we’re-all-together-in-this-brief-thing-called-life-let’s-enjoy-one-another.

Next week our sailing friend will be driving south. She figures it’s her last long trip away from home as her physical abilities decline. We’ll be foraging for organic salad at the food co-op with her, reminiscing about the gay rights battles we’ve been through, and the days we’d fax each other hourly just for the excitement of that new technology.

The sunset tonight is gray and peach, altogether different from the palette of the Wanders two nights ago. It’s their warning: our friends have left, the rains are coming in. The sailor and the Southern Oregonians are Northwesterners, they’ll arrive with clouds in their wakes and raindrops on their wet weather jackets.

Then, like the visitors, the goldfinches will be gone, the sunflowers will make their last bows, and my sweetheart and I will cuddle up to listen to the rain on our roof.

Email Lee Lynch

‹ October 20, 2017 - CAMPshots Gallery 4 up October 20, 2017 - CAMP Dates ›

Past Issues

Issues Index

  • November 17, 2017 - Issue Index
  • October 20, 2017 - Issue Index
    • October 20, 2017 - The Way I See It by Steve Elkins
    • October 20, 2017 - Speak Out - Letters to Letters
    • October 20, 2017 - In Brief
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMPmatters by Murray Archibald
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMP Out by Fay Jacobs
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMP Stories by Rich Barnett
    • October 20, 2017 - It's My Life by Michael Thomas Ford
    • October 20, 2017 - LGBTQ Film Fest Guide by Sue Early
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMP Profile by Fay Jacobs
    • October 20, 2017 - Straight Talk by David Garrett
    • October 20, 2017 - Membership Spotlight
    • October 20, 2017 - Booked Solid by Terri Schlichenmeyer
    • October 20, 2017 - Out Field by Dan Woog
    • October 20, 2017 - Hear Me Out by Chris Azzopardi
    • October 20, 2017 - We Remember
    • October 20, 2017 - Volunteer Spotlight by Monica Parr
    • October 20, 2017 - Volunteer Thank You
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMP Feature by Chris Azzopardi
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMP Arts by Doug Yetter
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMPshots Gallery 1
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMPshots Gallery 2
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMPshots Gallery 3
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMPshots Gallery 4
    • October 20, 2017 - Amazon Trail by Lee Lynch
    • October 20, 2017 - CAMP Dates
    • October 20, 2017 - Eating Out by Fay Jacobs
    • October 20, 2017 - Double Header at CAMP
    • October 20, 2017 - Out and Proud by Stefani Deoul
    • October 20, 2017 - Ask the Doctor by Michael J. Hurd, Ph.D., LCSW
  • September 22, 2017 - Issue Index
  • August 25, 2017 - Issue Index
  • August 11, 2017 - Issue Index
  • July 28, 2017 - Issue Index
  • July 14, 2017 - Issue Index
  • June 30, 2017 - Issue Index
  • June 16, 2017 - Issue Index
  • June 2, 2017 - Issue Index
  • May 19, 2017 - Issue Index
  • May 5, 2017 - Issue Index
  • March 31, 2017 - Issue Index
  • March 10, 2017 - Issue Index
  • February 3, 2017 - Issue Index

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