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The new Safeway Market on the waterfront in Astoria has the most magnificent view from the parking lot: the lower Columbia River in all it’s glory- complete with passing ships- on one side, and the wooded highlands interspersed with cozy homes on the other. Other than the parking being a bit tight, it is immaculate.

In we go. Newspapers racks: locals, nationals, SF Chronicle, NY Times, freebie arts weeklies, a Starbucks on the left and the deli on the right, bottle wines close-by. It feels alive.

Uh, oh… this is weird: everyone smiles and says hello. Not just on one aberrational visit, mind you, but every time I go in there this happens. “This can’t be…” my brain screams in objection, “…this many people working in this business cannot constantly be in such good spirits”.

What is happening? The consensus of opinion I have gleaned from casual conversations with female shoppers is ‘yes, they are so very nice here- sometimes almost too nice’. It is like something from a Monty Python episode.

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My internal radar peaks: could it be a corporate policy that all employees behave in this manner? Always? Hmmmmmmm, I wonder.

Two months after my first Safeway encounter I am told by young John that while in college his roommate was an employee of Safeway, and revealed that they do have a ‘PROXMITY RATIO POLICY’, one that requires all employees to stop what they are doing and to smile and say hello- ask if they can be of assistance- when a customer gets within a designated proximity to them. Now, it makes sense.

Mark Twain’s ‘Three Rules For Playing Poker’ come to mind:

          ‘1. know all the rules of the game;

2. know the depths of all the players;

3. don’t bluff, unless it is on the first hand and you want to get caught’.

Personally, I find the play with the crows a more pleasurable experience. “… uh no, I don’t have a Safeway Card, but, thank you for asking”. It is infectious.  

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I had 3 young crows to within 3 feet of me today: teenagers in birdworld, I suspect, with weak little developing voices and big curiosities. I was talking softly to them as I ripped off pieces of day-old baguette for them. They bounced in from a perimeter of perhaps 18 feet in about 3 minutes. Three older crows were sitting on the power lines just above me, quietly watching what was going on; another perched as a lookout from atop the roof- a 360 view. The older ones prefer protein from fish scraps in the early afternoon.

Tomorrow will be leftover French fries day for them; they all love them. I expect 10-12 crows for a tasty French fries luncheon. “Hey, settle down… a little decorum is in order!” A ‘do they like ketchup’ inquisition may be in order. When the puddles dry up after the rain subsides, I fill one with a hose an hour or so before the gathering. They like a nice cool refreshing beverage with their lunch- just like me.

This is the happiest time of my life. I am here: painting and drawing, playing some guitar, meeting new people, connecting with the crows. It is so very sweet.

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3:30 pm. I have an hour between shifts at the restaurant and an urgency to get to the art store in Ilwaco moves me to fire up the brown van, and careen down Hwy 101 to score the finest watercolor brush available. There I is, just what I need, a boars hair #8 round.

$50 for a paintbrush may seem excessive to most people, but any good mechanic knows quality of the tools is sacred.

Oooo, 35% OFF! “I marked them down because no one around here will spend that kind of money for a brush… it is kind of spendy”, commented the woman behind the counter. [‘spendy’, I love it... ‘pricey’ or ‘costly’ in other parts of the country]. 

“I consider it a gift from the gods, and I shall do my best to honor it’s humble beginnings, and I sincerely appreciate your kind consideration” was my reply. She smiled. I shall do my best.

I can afford to purchase such a jewel by the kind gratuitous gestures of co-workers Patty, and Tamara: two amazingly beautiful no-bullshit women. Sunday night I will plant my ass at the base of Washington Street in Chinook, and the sun dips beneath the horizon I will dance with paper, watercolor, receding light, and my new brush. 

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Rolling to Longbeach, WA early in the morning the traffic was detained by road construction on a long stretch of Hwy 101. It is going to be a while; cut the engine on the brown van; I grab a sketchbook and look around at where I am.

On my left is an open field bordered by a stand of juvenile cedars- perhaps 30 to 40 ft tall- some scrub hemlock and a few poplars with a highland range behind it. The sun is behind my vantage point burning through the morning low cloud fog and causing a glow from the moisture from the overnight dew. There will be a magnificent sunset tonight, and if I am a lucky man I will be there to witness it, and perhaps capture a piece of it.

Just down the road is a cranberry bog that sits quietly in beauty, and I see what is before me as a most natural place for another bog- if only a water source is available. I am moved to respond in the only way I can.

I begin to draw. Traffic isn’t moving- going nowhere.  In it goes: trees drip from my water soluble 4B pencil and take their places on the page. The line of the distant range dances into position. Some depth dances in and out comes some secret magic places offering the invitation to ‘come and see’.

Damn… traffic is beginning to move… I must stop the music and come back into reality. I will finish this at another time.

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I went out to get lost today. Took off in the brown van with no destination- just chose a road and motored onward to see what might be there. It has been classic rainy gray coastal Washington day: low clouds; tremendous movement within the environment- a perfect day to go nowhere. Traveling on Hwy 101 up the peninsula after dropping out of the highlands, the Bear River skirts the road the tidal marshes and show their secrets at low tide. Pull over! It’s watercolor time!

There was a low cloud system moving along the coast offering glimpses of landmasses in enigmatic grays and muted blues with hints of grayed greens within the expanse. Images changed within minutes, details advanced and receded by the changing light conditions. Damn… this is it… ‘must paint faster; show no mercy’.

Yesterday, on a whim I bought a block of rough watercolor paper and a tube of Payne’s Gray at the art store in Ilwaco,  “it is a waste of time and materials to paint in weather like this without Payne’s Gray” I mentioned to the woman behind the counter when making the transaction. She smiled at me.

Today was a good day. I cranked out Bear River 1,2, and 3 in about an hour: quick impressions; no bullshit images of time and place.  I was in the moment. ‘Sweet Tap Dancing Jesus Christ’… it just doesn’t get any better than this.