February 15, 2007
Issue
|
The days are
slowly lengthening, and I am aware that Spring is not yet upon us,
Rain, sunshine, and the budding of plants all beguile me, but I am not
gullible. I have lived here in the Northwest since 1969, and I am
cognizant of Nature's foibles. Just when you are ready to dig out
the t-shirt and shorts attire, a blast of chilly Canadian air sweeps down
from the north and snowflakes swirl around outside your windows.
Then the sun comes out and renews your justification for spending longer
time in the yard and garden. There is so much to do to get everything
ready for the coming of the "gentle" days.
I do enjoy February. There are three
birthdays in my family this month. My grandson Alexander Paul and
my nephew Arlin both share the 2nd, (Groundhog's day), and my husband celebrates
on the 21st.
Some famous presidents were born this month as well,
(although I hardly notice the passing of their respective days).
February is not especially an active month for art shows, but it is a splendid
time to organize, prioritize, and fantasize concerning upcoming events.
In the meanwhile, I busy myself with "nesting". I plan and sketch
a new way of arranging the furniture in the dining/living areas.
"Yes, that situation is viable", I say to myself. Then with
the strength of my husband assisting me, the buffet goes here, the dining
room table goes there. The desk and filing cabinets are moved over
here...etc. Next week I may tackle the disorder in the great room.
Wait! Wasn't that the call of a robin? The sun is shining.
I'll be out in the yard for awhile.
Next issue: What is it like to be “famous”? |
|
|
|
A Lighthouse Adventure (Heceta
Head)
|
| First, I want to let you know that I consider
every visit to a lighthouse an adventure! There is an inherent romance
concerning the lofty loneliness, the raging storms, the stories of heroic
survival and rescues at sea. There have been women keepers of the
lights (Had I been born a century ago, I may have aspired to be one such).
I have been atop some of the lighthouses in Washington, Oregon, Florida
and California. I am always enchanted and awestruck by their presence.
And I paint the beacons as I see them.
”There have been women keepers
of the lights”
Heceta (Hay Thay’ Ta) Head Lighthouse on the Oregon coast is as approachable
as it is picturesque. For many miles along the coast highway, it
is visible to the wanderer. Its beacon shines out to sea, visible
from at least 21 miles away. Glorious sunsets, foggy mornings or
on clear sunny afternoons, the Heceta Head Lighthouse can be observed from
the Sea Lion Caves, the many vista turn-outs, or from south on the beach
below the rugged cliff. From there, her exalted position inspires poets,
novelists photographers and artists. Since her service as an aid
to navigation is no longer required, the beautiful, popular lighthouse
is a marvelous tourist attraction. There is an accessible trail that
is easy to ascend. On a warm summer afternoon, I begin my trek.
It is a steep and winding hike through towering evergreens to the |
|
|
top of Heceta Head, 205 feet above the sea.
Along the way I passed the Coast Guard quarters, now a popular Bed-and-Breakfast
retreat. The grounds are immaculately kept. And the building glows
with the pleasant ambience of a well cared for establishment.
“There is an accessible trail
that is easy to ascend”
But I press on. The trail is mostly a gentle downhill course.
Suddenly I break out of the forest and am facing the tall, sturdy lighthouse,
with its white painted fence and groomed lawn surrounding one of the most
universally appreciated beacons in the world. It seems anchored to
the solid crest of rock upon which she has held forth since 1894.
I am in luck! A tour of the tower is about to begin. The guide
takes a small group into the cool interior of the tower, up the many steps
to the base of the lantern room. Owing to the delicacy of the still
usable equipment inside, the group is denied entrance to the lantern room
itself, but my day is complete. I will carry the memory of the magnificent
lighthouse, and in my studio, paint it again and again in all her glory.

|
|
|