Dancing from Winter into Spring on the Mystical Coast

Part I. Dance of the Mystical Coast

He would always remember the week in 1898, when his whole world changed, and he felt as if the personality of the Mystical Coast, herself, reached out and flowed through him.

“SSSShhh…” The late evening breeze rustled through the Douglas Fir boughs.

In the river sleek seals glided and spun in the water near the boats at the rustic wharf.

The whole world was dancing from Winter into Spring on the Mystical Coast. It was like poetry coming to life.

These were the thoughts of the young man sitting high on a mountainside, overlooking a lake, while he read poetic verses from one of the books he got from the village's book-lending shop.

Miles away on the high sand dunes, a young woman walked to the tidepools where the ocean's waves lapped.

She dreamed of meeting someone kind and caring, someone with many depths, with a heart like a poet.

Like two ocean mists floating and forming, the destinies of the two young people drifted nearer and began to form like wispy fog making new shapes.

Birds were twittering and calling, fir tree tops murmured against the blue sky, and the ocean hummed gently on the shores.

Everywhere, the wildlife, tall trees, and ocean winds were dancing and having conversations about Springtime with Summer on her way.

The new shoots of flowers came up through the ground, bringing glimmers of hope for life on the coast to bloom again in the warming days.

Winter's gloomy skies began to clear like a redemption or a debt paid for by hard work. Summer's light brought new joy on the coast each morning with a glow starting at dawn.

*****

Part II. Mystical Dances of Spring Festival

In May of 1898 a remote village of 300 people on the Mystical Coast, isolated by geography from the rest of the world, felt the shift of the seasonal transformation.

Their growing tradition of the annual Mystical Dances of Spring Festival covered almost a week of music, food and social gathering. It was a time of renewal after the long winter.

Garlands of flowers were woven. A pole with colorful streamers fluttering stood next to the river. Scents of savory or sweet foods cooking wafted on the wind. Roaming musicians played stringed instruments, flutes and hamonicas.

Tonight everyone was at a barn dance next to the Happy Clams Hotel, in a valley next to the wide river that emptied into the sea.

The building was filled with the hammering of boots on the ground, the emotional vibratos of a violin, the chords and tones of a piano, the airy and ethereal sound of a flute wafting, a dulcimer, a guitar and mouth organ.

“Roll away to a half sashay… allemande left… promenade…weave the ring…box the gnat…” The country folk dance caller used a big megaphone to send his voice booming across the big room in the warm, soft light of the kerosene lanterns hanging from the walls. 

The long, stormy winter was forgotten for a while.

Homesteaders and others who lived far from the village felt their hearts lifting after the numbness in the winter when loneliness saturated them as if they absorbed the rain and cloudy days. 

Now, like dormant seeds sprouting, people were reaching out to each other and renewing or forming new social bonds.

*****

Part III. Romance is in the Air

“I feel like a mole that has been underground for 6 months. The brightness of the sun hurts my eyes.” A young man named Ernest spoke and looked closely at a woman named Katrina, who laughed.

 She had shiny hair parted in the middle, with looped braids on top of her head, nice eyes, some small scars scattered on her face, and a sturdy figure in the flower patterned long dress. He noted other things too that he liked about her.

He leaned over listening to her. She smelled good too. He breathed in. What was that?

Ernest noticed she had soft eyes and a gentleness to her expression.

They were standing beneath the tall roof of the barn where people danced, ate treats, sat at tables, and mingled as the music played. 

“Me too. Winter gets lonely. Hard to travel. I haven’t seen most of these people since last Autumn,” Katrina smiled and nodded her head at the group.

While she spoke Katrina cautiously looked at Ernest and made an evaluation of him. Shaggy brown hair, a lock falling over one eye, clean grey shirt and brown pants, belt, clean work boots. Nice smile.

Medium height, though taller than herself, wiry but strong form. Tanned face with beginnings of some weathering from working outdoors.

She liked the polite manners he was displaying. His mama and papa had taught him well. He had a nice smile and his expression looked natural and honest.

Ernest’s smile faded for a moment. He thought about the lonely winter. He decided to learn more about Katrina.

 “We had a tough winter and that last storm with the rain, flooding, and the hail plus even snow was worse than usual,” Katrina said.

Ernest leaned toward her, watching with a focused look and listening carefully to every word and tone.

A scent like some type of fragrant herb from her garden came from her. He breathed it in slowly.

Katrina continued, “Our winter crops were ruined, and the root cellar with canned and preserved food got flooded too. But we do have new plantings for squash, beans, corn, carrots and other food later in the summer, and a kitchen garden.”

Ernest listened. What was that scent? Flowers and herbs.

“I understand,” Ernest said.”We are still rebuilding after flood and storm damage. We are grateful that we survived.”

Katrina heard the hint of something else. Was this social chit-chat or something more? He seemed to be prolonging the conversation. Why?   

Ernest began to feel “that winter feeling” with the sensation of a hard rock in his chest starting to slide into a smaller stone, like a melting ice chunk.

He breathed deeply. That felt good, he thought.

They gazed at each other, feeling a healing of the winter’s isolation. The pent-up feelings that they covered with their brave masks eased.

Earlier, during the previous days, Katrina and Ernest were each busy at their family homesteads preparing for the festival, in addition to doing their usual chores.

At Katrina’s house her brother chopped wood and built a hot fire in the Franklin warming stove. Then they put big pots of water on the top of it to use for quick, warm baths.

Before the festival Katrina picked fresh herbs and flowers to put into her warm bath water.

Ernest and his family also got out their tin bathing tub and set it by their warming stove, then took turns bathing the water.

Katrina felt a sense of longing and yearning grow while they talked.

“It was rough. But we made it.” Katrina’s voice had a hint of triumph.

“Same here.”

Ernest felt an awakening of something. It was as if part of him had been sleeping like the Black Bears in their winter dens. 

Katrina felt her tense throat begin to release. He understood her.

There seemed to be more than words passing between them.

“I want to stay outside all the time in the warm weather and feel the sun now.”

Katrina’s voice floated to Ernest. He heard it only distantly, because he was feeling his wintery feelings inside start to flow with new energy, like a spring bubbling up.

“Yes. Me too. Our kitchen garden is doing well and I love the fresh food instead of canned or stored in the root cellar.” Ernest’s words hid the waves of small sensations washing over him.

“Today was so wonderful.” Katrina thought Ernest looked distracted. She searched her mind for something interesting to say. 

“I know. Winter here is tough. But it is still better than blizzards and tornadoes like we had in the Midwest.” Ernest drew in a deep breath.

Then he tried to focus. “Our rain barrel filled up fast and we had fresh water outside the door all winter. Saved making trips to the spring.” 

“We have a pump that brings up spring water.” Katrina remembered the trips out to it in the heavy downpours, and the cold, muddy, wet trips to the outhouse.

“I love it here in the summer. Winter too, even with the storms. I read a lot at night in the winter." 

Her face lit up and Ernest stared, captivated by her. So she was a reader too!

It was not just her words, but something about her that reached him in a different way.  

They spoke the same language.

Noticing his expression, Katrina glanced closely at his eyes, then looked away. 

Like one of the blue herons that soar over the river, her heart began to glide and she felt a lightness.

Something unsaid passed between them. Katrina felt a shiver and Ernest felt a small shock.

He noticed how beautiful Katrina’s eyes were. She saw the upturn of his smile and laugh lines on his face. 

It held a certain magnetism for her. She felt drawn to him.

At the same time, Ernest experienced a warmth and lightness spreading all over.

“Look, Gerald, I think our daughter has found an interesting friend. Do you know him?” Nellie, Katrina’s mother watched her daughter and Ernest.

“He’s one of the Palmer’s boys. They have a homestead and a number of businesses. Ambitious, hard workers. I approve of him.” Gerald knew Nellie was protective of her daughter. 

“Come on, dear, let’s join the dancers.” Nellie smiled and nodded to her husband.

Nellie watched Katrina and Ernest talking out of the corner of her eye.

She saw people gathering near the table of food and selecting tasty treats while they traded information and got the latest news.

The locals discussed the recent events of their lives, telling stories and making up tall tales, nodding and smiling, building bridges of shared experiences with each other.

*****

Part IV. Villagers' Conversations About the Mystical Coast

Ernest and Katrina listened to the conversations around them for a while.

“We had a bear on our porch last week. Our dog barked at him through the window and he went away.”

“I saw a huge cougar walking through my neighbor’s front yard here in the village. Like he owned the place. Just sauntering along.”

“Be sure your smaller animals are inside at night. There’s a group of coyotes howling near my place.”

“I am sure I saw a wolverine in the dunes near the beach. They’re usually rare here. But I’m sure of what I saw.”

 “Did you see the black and white whales swimming up the river last week? I counted the tail fins and there were six of them.”

 “The wild rhododendrons are huge this year. The pink and red ones are the size of dinner plates.”

Ernest and Katrina smiled at each other. Winter was forgotten. The magic of the Mystical Coast wilderness and its wildlife filled them.

*****

V. A Different Dancing Style

The tables of baked good beckoned and Ernest said to Katrina, “Let’s get some of those treats over on there.” 

It was then that he saw Katrina start to walk with a lopsided gait, stepping with the left leg and then slightly dragging the right leg stiffly.

Noticing his glance, she said, “An accident. Several years go. Horses got spooked. They ran off while we were in the wagon. Mama and Papa fell off the driving bench. I was in the back.

The wagon smashed on some rocks. My leg was twisted funny. Something happened. I’m used to it and I get around all right this way.”

She smiled as if it was not anything important. But inside a voice seemed to say, "Now is when he will walk away to find a different girl without a limp."

Something squeezed her chest and a small but sharp pain there fluttered. She fixed her face, masking it. She was used to abandonment by men.

Something sharp jumped inside Ernest. In a flash he sensed what she was feeling.

The breath caught in Ernest's throat. A jolt went through him.

He reached for her hand, squeezed it gently, and placed it on his bent arm, then escorted her over to the table, his eyes catching hers. He saw a smile begin to peek out on her face again.

Katrina felt the beginnings of trust grow. He was so thoughtful and kind.

A feeling of liking this young woman became stronger and Ernest felt more than a physical attraction. She seemed to bring out the best in him. He liked himself when he was around her.

They gathered some treats and Ernest said, “Let’s sit outside the door where it’s quieter and the evening is cool.”

When they got outside Ernest said, “Let’s dance. Trust me.”

Despite her lame leg Katrina found she could sway and step back and forth easily to the rythm. They held each other and looked into each other’s eyes.

"I heard you say you like to read books," Ernest watched for her reaction.

"Oh, yes. Reading takes me away to other worlds. Like dreaming." Ernest smiled at her reply.

"I know what you mean. It brings me dreams I would never imagine, if not for the reading."

He saw her startled expression when he spoke, followed by her look of excitement and anticipation.

"Please tell me more," she said.

"Gladly," he replied.

It was like water pouring forth after being held back by a dam when he got started, telling her all about the books, stories and poetry, and then his hopes and dreams.

"Please tell me yours." His words unleashed a flow from Katrina. He marveled at what they shared and felt joy at discovering new ideas from her uniqueness.

Later, under the summer stars next to the rippling sounds of the river they sat peacefully together. Now and then they spoke softly. Ernest gently held her hand lightly. 

Words were not needed. Sometimes their eyes met and their mouths formed slight smiles. The beauty of the night flowed through them.

Ernest knew something was happening to him. Katrina felt a sense of some new sensation.

Later that night when guests began to leave, Ernest said, “Katrina, I would like to call for you late tomorrow morning, if that is all right with you. We can walk by the river and share a luncheon in the hotel dining room.”

*****

VII. A New Cycle of Life Brings a New Dance

For the next several days of the Spring Festival Ernest and Katrina met to share the activities.

They wandered off along the river each evening, to sit together under the stars, and listen to the Mystical Coast whispering to them in the water flowing by and the breezes in the fir boughs.

Ernest felt the “winter feeling” leave him and he knew the healing was due to being with Katrina. He could sense she felt something similar.

Near the end of the festival the news of their engagement was announced at another dance.

This time Katrina was ready, and she danced slowly, while they held each other at the proper social distance.

“Aren’t you concerned about marrying someone who has a limp?”

She knew he was attracted to who she was at her core. But she still needed to be sure about him.

“If you can’t walk, my love, I will carry you. But I want you in my life forever. Always.”

"And you too. Always," Katrina's words echoed Ernest's.

They leaned closer together and embraced slowly, tightly, for a long time.

VIII. The Wedding Dance

The wedding was on the last day of the festival, before everyone headed back to their scattered homesteads. The couple stood under the woven flower vines and nearby children played by the colorful streamers flowing from the tall pole.

The musicians played music that echoed across the river valley. The food preparers made a special banquet. The couple would always celebrate their anniversary during the annual Mystical Dances of Spring Festival.

They were married at sunset as the moon and stars began to rise, and the last colorful glows of the day were reflected on the river.

The bride wore a crocheted tablecloth draped creatively in folds and a wreath of fresh flowers. The groom borrowed a dressier jacket and other articles of clothing.

They each read poetic verses to each other from their favorites. It was like a spell casting magic over the wedding.

That joy at the festivities as twilight fell over the river enfolded everyone.

Even the river seemed to be dancing and the breezes sang softly through the fir boughs in the trees.

The clouds of winter's loneliness in the remote wilderness were gone. The glimmer of summer's light was shining brighter with future days of love and hope beckoning to the young couple.

A new cycle of life for the young couple was beginning, along with the seasonal cycles of the Mystical Coast.

Ernest thought he heard the ocean waves, the river ripples, and the breezes seem to breathe a contented sigh.