Rubbing Shoulders with Giants

The current exhibit at Coos Art Museum features The Hawthorne Family, as in Chris, Julie, Damian...
We live among so much talent, so much beauty and imagination.
Sometimes, we need to be reminded of all this. 

Lewis and Clark, you missed this One

Calla lillies, about three months ahead of schedule this year! The weather has been unusually warm and dry, as all long time residents agree. By now, like Lewis and Clark on their first foray to the West, we'd be stuck in place, anticipating a clearing period to resume activities like walks on the beach, in the forests, by the rivers and lakes all abundant around here.

There is a place where Lewis and Clark's group landed on the Columbia which they named Foulweather just because the weather, cold, wet, windy and mostly miserable, trapped them for months before the expedition could resume their task of mapping the West.

We arrived to live here eleven years ago, at the beginning of February. That year, for three weeks or so, we marveled at our good fortune, walking the coast trail, sitting on our south facing deck with a glass of wine celebrating our good fortune and tanning away as though we still lived in Southern California, soaking up the sun, the fresh air, the gentle breezes for days on end.

A week later, we had to hustle quickly one early evening when the weather changed and our furniture was flying around and hitting windows and doors in a matter of seconds.

That night,  with winds in the sixty and eighty miles an hour, rain from all angles, branches of trees hitting the roof, a driveway washing off with alacrity, we thought for sure, this was going to be our last day on earth.

Those who have lived here for a while will tell you: don't get used to comfort. This area can be treacherous in winter months. This year, Treacherous Weather seems to have forgotten Cape Blanco for now.

What do people do?

More than half of all the inhabitants in Curry County (our county, comprising of towns like Brookings, Gold Beach, Port Orford, Langlois, and smaller communities like Agnes and Nausika Beach and Laurel Grove) are of retirement age. They bring a great deal of stability to the county, with their own money, their own needs for services.  The rest are old time families who have ranched on this coast for as long as Oregon became Oregon. They came west with few friends or family and they established homesteads and services to support ranching and farming.  The Army/Cavalry founded its first fort at Fort Orford, and established provisions and defense for miners, loggers and fishermen who settled here and found easy work in these industries.

Nowadays, artists outnumber fishermen, ranchers, and lumbermen. Mining for gravel and landscaping materials still goes on by the rivers; lumber is still harvested in the groves right off the highway, but these industries are no longer what they used to be.

In our little town of just over a thousand inhabitants, thirty percent just summer people, artists enjoy a peaceful and beautiful landscape to produce and create. Six, locally owned galleries displaying local art dot the main road. In the hills, by the lake, and throughout this land writers. musicians, sculptors, painters, ceramicist, potters, dramatists, fine woodworkers, actors, cinematographers, directors, scrimshaw and mixed media artists give this town a true creative personality.

My husband and I collect local art and appreciate the richness of offerings available to us.
In the picture above, we have a bust by Julie Hawthorne, "Birdland", and a painting by Elaine Roemen, "The Elk River." 

A town that buzzes with artistic personalities leaves a mark on all residents; but it really helps our schools. Local artists like Lani Johnson have organized demonstrations and workshops that expose students to many art forms and many artists. Their enthusiasm and generous spirit can truly transform the new generation.
    

The Pacific yawns on the other side of this berm
and the cape anticipates
the power and majesty of an approaching winter storm.

This December has been mild compared to others; hardly any storms; hardly any major change. Yet, I can hear rumblings all night long, a sort of heartbeat of the world pounding at each end of the globe, reminding us we are flotsam and jetsam, day in and day out, beings moved by tides and winds and celestial occurrences.

Port Orford set up a Christmas tree made up of crab pots. December is crab season; more than half of all income from fishing comes from crabbing. Crab pots are being retrieved every night and every day. At times, the big lights on the working boats shine up toward the shore, across this berm, and we, my husband and I sit up in bed and watch the scene all night long.

I have a greater appreciation for the fish brought to our tables by such hard working people.