Feb. 23, 2018 Twisp, Washington
I always enjoy getting the WestView News in our mailbox here on the other side of the country. We put it on our coffee table beside our local Methow Valley News in front of the wood stove, which, these very cold days, always has a fire flaming away. Outside, the hill across the river is white and two or three times a day, deer pass by outside so close I can see their sweet eyelashes.
These are mule deer, America’s largest, whose oversized ears radar this way and that, zeroing in on the sounds around them, as they step cautiously between the house and the deep snow. They use our shoveled paths between here and the woodshed or between here and the little 20×26 cloister which Bill uses as his study.
Out my kitchen window I see our neighbor Midge’s house. She broke her wrist falling on the ice recently. Actually, I know several people who’ve broken one bone or another this winter. I go over on Wednesdays to wash Midge’s long hair in the kitchen sink, which has an arching faucet perfect for getting her head under. She lets her hair dry while she sits beside her wood stove and later I go over to braid it.
Our house sits a short block from Twisp’s main street. Within five minutes I can walk and get my mail or a divorce, eat a kale taco or hear a concert, get drunk or buy a painting, make copies, complain to the mayor, get a filling, a haircut, a massage. On the one wooden building that didn’t burn with the rest of the town in 1924, I read posters about upcoming plays, ski races, the schedule for the Fairy Congress or faith healing.
I think of you often, George, especially when your newspaper comes. Are you ever going to come out West and visit? How can two places so wildly different adorn the same country? Our three month stay in the Village two years ago still resonates, and the WestView News sitting on our table helps put this remote valley in perspective. I think you’d enjoy this place: it’s quiet and you can hear your heart beat. Should you want to.
—Diana (and Bill)