Sometimes I forget why I feel different these days. It’s not just the gray blanket across the sky, blocking the possibility of Vitamin D production.
Then I remember.
Ten years ago we moved here with young children. Life was bursting at the seams. Not only in the natural world but in the community.
Every week, I’d find out what was happening on the island. I’d check the packed signboard outside of the Island Market and find announcements like calendula lotion-making workshops at the Co-op, apple-grafting lessons at the museum, pop-up pizza nights set up in fields thanks to owners of mobile cob ovens, and community dance nights in barns or at the Odd Fellows Hall. I’d write the events down on my hand until I got home to my calendar hanging by the fridge.
Once home, I’d open the Sounder and peruse the lengthy calendar section, copying down the plays at Orcas Center, the concerts in the park, the talks at the library, and the seasonal markets like the Artisan’s Faire. Whenever I got a chance on my computer between all of the momming, I’d check Orcas Issues and the Chamber of Commerce to fill in any holes.
What I ended up with, every week of our lives here, was a calendar that was also bursting at the seams, each little square so filled with the most uniquely fantastic activities.
Do you remember it?
That’s how I met so many of you. We made things together. Learned things together. Danced together. Laughed together.
Not only were the events abundant, I also remember always thinking, ‘I’ve got to make sure our kids get the most healthful meals while we’re at home, because there are goodies all over Orcas Island wherever we go.’ I almost have to dig back in my memory now to remember why. After church there were dreamy, multi-table spreads of the best appetizers, cookies, and cakes a kid could imagine. There were refreshments at intermissions at Orcas Center. There were abundant pie slices to choose from on the 4th of July. I remember thinking we would never need to make food at home if we were okay with eating goodies for every meal.
Even Halloween was extra special here. Do you remember how Cindy Morgan at Nest (now Fern Blue Boutique) would wear a fantastically gigantic handmade floral headpiece and hand out triangular bags of candy corn? Then you’d walk up to Hogstone Pizza, where every child and adult was handed a mouth-wateringly delicious piece of homemade, thin-crust, gourmet pizza. We always wondered how in the world they could afford to be so generous. Down Haven Lane you’d go to soak in the spooky Odd Fellows Hall for some candy and cider. Then you’d begin the walk up North Beach Road and pick which homemade treat you wanted at Kathryn Taylor Chocolates (now Roots). The kids often chose the handmade marshmallows, and Susan or Louise would give the adults something too – I always opted for a cookie.
After the kids had gone in every shop in town for treats, and stopped in the library to pick out a book and refreshment of their choice from the abundant and generous literary and culinary spread there, it was time to migrate over to the Community Church. Grandparents and older kids played bingo upstairs while parents and young children absolutely packed the Fall Carnival downstairs. We all remember mingling like happy sardines crammed together, holding our children’s cotton candy and nachos while they fished for prizes or walked musical squares to win pieces of cake.
We parents of younger kids often went home to call it a night and count candy spread out on the floor. We would put a few frozen pizzas in the oven, and remark on how much we needed some real food after spending the whole day on costuming and candy. I remember thinking, ‘Once the kids are older, we can leave them here and go down to the Odd Fellows for the Halloween dance.’ Older kids and adults would pack the Odd Fellows and dance the night away – one thing I never got to experience.
Halloween is still extra special here. Camp Orkila still starts it off with their Fall Festival the day beforehand, complete with zip-lining, pumpkin-painting, arrow-shooting, cider-drinking, and sausage-eating. Older kids return at night for its famous annual Haunted Hayride. We’re always astounded at such island generosity. Orkila feeds the whole town for free, and their staff works tirelessly to pick and press apples, cook vats of homemade pumpkin soup, cook over gigantic grills all day, and harness kids up during zipline safety talks.
The whole town will be gathering in Eastsound tonight to be together and go from shop to shop for treats. The library and the church are planning fantastic wingdings for the kids.
When no other events were listed in newspaper and online calendars, this day is one day that never had to call it quits for COVID’s sake. We all remember that.
I can forget why I feel dull some days; why our calendar is empty; why I don’t feel as excited to walk into town.
But things are starting up again. The Film Festival just happened at Sea View Theatre – appropriately spaced. Orcas Center is gearing up for what I believe are its first in-house performances in two years. The Farm Tour happened at the beginning of this month. And concerts in the park happened at the Village Green all summer, thanks again to Orcas Center.
You are not the only one who has grown accustomed to the feeling that something is missing, and you’re forgetting why because it’s been two years of adapting to the quietness. Hopefully we will gradually rekindle the Orcas Island we all knew and loved.
This morning, fresh off last night’s hayride at Orkila (my first haunted hayride here, now that my kids are older), I feel the excitement I used to feel every day here because there is yet another festivity to attend this afternoon. May you immerse yourself in it too, and gather downtown at 3:00 to celebrate what it has always felt like to really experience this place.
Happy Halloween!
The Fall Festival in downtown Eastsound eight or nine years ago before Halloween 
Hogstone Pizza on Halloween 
Trick or treating at shops 
Trick or treating at Darvill’s
You can also find this on the October 31st Sun Days column on The Orcasonian here.
