Spring is coming to the Willamette
Valley. Its hard to see it when the days are spent going from house,
to car, to office, then back again. Until Sunday, when there is a
moment to pause. Outside the window, shoots of green things are coming from the earth.
The sun breaks through over-sized fuzzy rain-filled clouds.
The Pilot sits at the dining nook table, checking weather on the
computer. You are seated across from him, the cat purring in your
lap. The endless list of house things jump around asking for
attention. You clear your throat to get the pilots attention. The
Pilot peeks over the monitor.
Fly to breakfast? It's like asking if
he'd like sex.
Fifteen minutes later the plane is out
of the hangar. Thirty minutes later, the Hillsboro tower gives the
word and runway 3-1 drops off behind. If you could reach a hand out
of the canopy, it would swirl around in a thick layer of mist. The
sun is up there, stretching to break through. The earth four thousand
feet below is bubbly, pastel sketched, keeping the faith that spring
is indeed, coming.
The sun was winning by the time we
landed in Albany., and it felt great. I held my face to the sky and
took a deep breath. I laughed, noticing Roy was doing the same thing.
The Original Breakfast restaurant was a short walk north of the
airport, across the freeway overpass. The outside told of line-cooked
pancakes, fried eggs, buscuits and gravy and gum-snapping, teased
hair waitresses. The inside said something completely different. Warm
booths and pendant lighting, granite counters complemented an
imaginitve, well thought-out menu. This place was run by people who
love good food.
A pixie with dark eyeliner, tattoo, and
hair piled in a careless bun, filled our coffee mugs and asked what
we are going to do with on this beautiful day. We could prep for the
upcoming kitchen remodel, or clean the boat canvas, or the garage.
Thats what we should do. My friend Kitty says you should never should
on yourself. Roy's eyes met mine, serious, questioning. My god, it is
sunny outside. I reached across the table to rest my hand on Roy's.
Maybe could go fly some more?
He grins. The shoulds have been replaced with
excitement. I don't need to ask twice.
I have a tickle of excitement too,
partly from the omlette filled with slow-roasted pork, pepper-jack
cheese and smothered in salsa verde, but mostly from the thought of
spending an entire day flitting about in the airplane with my
sweetie.
Later that day, a layer of clouds
persisted over the still snow-capped hills of the coast range. They
draped over forests and ice-speckled lakes, pushed up by a breeze off
the ocean, and held there by the high in the valley. From five
thousand feet, we could see the beach was clear. Soon we were over
Siletz Bay, then over the ocean, then dropping behind the
tree-covered berm to land. Another walk, this one through trees, past
a pond, the chickering birds, and we arrived at the Side Door cafe in
Glen Eden Beach. This funky, upscale hippy place is one of our
favorites. Ask anyones who's been there, and they'll say they've
never had anything less than a very good meal. Most of the time it's
great.
Another pixie – this one a bundle of
muscular, blond and efficiency, paused to talk about Roys favorite
topic – you guessed it – planes! She recognized us from our many
visits there, and has stopped offering an adult beverage to start the
meal."Eight hours, bottle to throttle", she recites. She
has taken flying lessons, and wants to fly. She sails. Ah – boats!
My favorite topic She has grown up with boats. Her father built a
sailboat. We could spend the entire day sharing our excitment for
these things. Instead we turn to food. She's also heard what everyone
says about the food, and agree's the Tuna Melt especially is
heavenly.
There were bright, red tulips in the
windowsill next to us. They made a great backdrop to photos of the
delicious fare on our plates. Outside, little green bits with tiny
white f lowers are poking through cracks in a low, stone wall. Our
check came with sugar-dusted fortune cookie's. The message inside one
read "You tend to spark the flames of enthusiasm in people". Did it refer to the Plane or the food, or the waitresses, or the bright spring
day or the tulips in the window, or Roy smiling at me or me smiling at him? It didn't matter. It was in
every way absolutlely and completely true.
