Here's the final installment of our journey along the fence in Port Townsend, Washington. We've turned the corner and gone most of the way up the hill along the second span.
The next panel combines milled, stained wood with bamboo in a pattern that is balanced but not rigidly ordered:
It's kind of amazing that pieces of wood as irregular as those in the next unit can be combined into a pattern that feels like it was constructed from precise bits:
Were those leftovers? Maybe! If so, they certainly provided appropriate inspiration.
That panel's close-up reveals the crowning baseball bat . . . and a white rock nested at the center of the wooden diamond:
Next door, we have another regular/irregular rhythm—these panels offer interesting, while comparatively restful, contrast to the earlier, busy collections of parts:
And here's the final panel, with lines that feel almost scribbled, abutting the concrete-and-chainlink establishment, part or all of which almost certainly existed when the fence we've been looking at was conceived:
That final panel looks quite simple, doesn't it? It is.
Or is it? Here are some close-ups:
As the job was completed, did the tools become part of the assemblage they'd helped build?
We ended our journey to Port Townsend, our former home, in the downtown area, at the Silverwater Cafe. This restaurant didn't exist when we lived here, but its owner is a long-time friend, even a member of the extended family, and I had heard about, but hadn't seen, what he'd accomplished. Back in the day, he was a really good cook (an exceptional lefse maker, among other things, and that's both art and craft). He still is. It's the sort of place where they have ongoing discussions about how the coleslaw should be made (I'd say exactly as they've got it now), and whether it appropriately complements every other menu item that it finds itself next to.
Sort of like building the panels on a fence.
Here's a photo of my sister and my mother outside the cafe. Along with the flowers in the window boxes, rainbow chard is also growing.
I can recommend the lentil burger. It's rightfully famous.
As we traveled back toward Seattle, most of the traffic was going in the other direction. The ferry ride was, as usual, smooth and prompt. While the weather had cleared up a bit, the gray skies still provided a subtle backdrop for a downtown landmark.
And that's that. The next post will talk about something entirely different. I have some ideas what that will be, but I'm not certain which of the alternatives will bubble to the top and get written up. . . .
I'm hoping it will also include news about the rediscovery, and completed delivery, of three much-missed packages. . . .