Richard Olmer

What is so special about right here?

Well, it's a place full of surprises. It's not a place of perfection but it is a place of pleasant strangeness.

I never before have seen it rain under trees and not be raining elsewhere. The tall, giant firs and the bushier cedars seem to capture water from the air and cause rain beneath them when, elsewhere, the ground is dry.

And, I remember hearing someone say that artists love islands because of the light. Well, I am not on an island but I am near the water, and the light on grasses in vacant fields can take away your breath, especially in the mornings and evenings.

And, though this is not a wilderness, the deer vie with the birds for the seed that I put out each morning. And, look at this ...

... these are the eagles atop the tree at the end of my driveway and overlooking the golf course. And, they weren't just idly sitting; they were serenading the neighborhood with chortles and trills and magical "eaglespeak."

And, this year, I suddenly have squirrels. For 10 years, I never saw or heard a squirrel here; this year they are here in my backyard along with the big, beautiful pheasant that someone released at the county park down the hill.

Oh, it's not an ideal place but it's nice. After I got here, they brought in some of those terrible big-box stores that I had tried to run away from. And, some neighbor and an insensitive county government allowed some person to build a huge barn blocking my meager territorial view. But, hey, everyone has some silly little disturbances in his life. My wife, after 10 years, finally accepted that there are no street lights around. It sure makes sleeping easier and it's so quiet here. There's not a constant hum from an interstate highway five miles away.



Living in a postcard

Mostly, however, I love seeing the mountains hanging on the horizon as I leave home to go hiking. And I always know that I actually can walk to the water if my car dies. Heck, I can even walk to the Dungeness River.

I always had to leave home to get to quiet, wild spaces. I'd have to drive 1,000 miles to see a snow-capped peak or a few hundred miles to walk beside salt water. The nearby river was more like a drainage ditch cluttered with floating plastic and other stuff. This place is truly special.

My imagination loves it here. I can, in less than an hour, walk beside one of the most beautiful lakes anywhere in the world, Lake Crescent. I can walk through alpine meadows high above reality and feel like this is the Alps. I can walk a beach and image mastodons or ancient hunters who once were here.



Is it really real?

Or, I can be miles from anyone else in a mature hemlock forest or walking through ageless cedars, much older than this nation. There are spaces that I have walked through where I literally needed to stop and check to be sure that this was all real. The woods can be so quiet.

And, best of all, I don't need to give up anything to be here. I have football and baseball games to watch. I can even watch the World Cup games or the Olympics. I can listen to wonderful music and hear a symphony orchestra. I can drink nice, local wines and even my favorite Swedish vodka.

Life is truly good here. And everywhere I look, I seem to catch a glimpse of God.

And, of course, I have a wonderful wife to share all this with and two very large cats to keep away the vermin.





Richard Olmer can be reached at columnists@sequimgazette.com.