THE room I have here is very large for one person. (Please note: The photo at the left does not depict the motel. Keep reading.) There is a fold-out couch and king-size bed. Three pillows plus my dependable one from home. Gas fireplace. Windows all around. (No ocean view, but I do overlook the courtyard on one side and the next door pub's back yard, which like everything in Cannon Beach is planted with the most wonderful, gigantic flowers. (The calla lilies are in bloom: can you hear the Katharine Hepburn in my voice?) The most wonderful smells come from the pub. Not beer, but garlicky, oniony somethings frying in a pan.
It was pure glorious May sunshine for the trip over, which was nice for driving the rough roads that have just been patched and cleaned up (a bit) since the horrible, awful, ghastly winter snowstorms. When I arrived the coastline was overcast - not unusual at all - and around 6 p.m. the "mist" began.
There is a television and DVD player here, with free movies in the lobby to pick up, but so far I've avoided that flickering box and devoted my time to tea and finishing "Eat, Pray, Love." It was an OK book. I'm going down to the car soon to find "Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress." I think it might be more my speed than following someone from continent to continent as they search for their next boyfriend. (I'm being really mean. Gilbert's descriptions of Balinese ceremonies and way of life were great. Her description of the Yogic path was terrific! "We have failed to recognize our deeper divine character. ... Yoga is the effort to experience one's divinity personally and then to hold on to that experience forever." However, I do think the book could have been shorter.)
Well, on to other things: I brought all of my art journaling supplies with me but didn't anticipate such a long haul from the car to the second story room I have. Not much table space and I wonder if the maids will "report" me tomorrow when they find the area covered with newspaper and gesso drying? Oh, well, I paid good money for the room and I'll be careful.
And regarding the photo above: When I left home I stopped on the journey (actually turned around and went back!) to take a picture of a truly majestic leaning barn amidst a field of red clover. However, the cord to get that photo onto this computer from my camera does not work, so you will have to make do with Carl Sandburg's cousin's nephew's barn - femminismo
PHOTO: Old barn on Charlie Kran's farm, a cousin of the poet Carl Sandburg. Taken by photographer Allan Grant, February 1953, in Galesburg, Illinois. Published in Life magazine.