The Heart of Plaik'ni Inn
Jesse soon learned what all country dwellers learn: winter is easier to manage than spring. Snow is clean, white and melts without a trace. Rain continued relentlessly on and off for several weeks, and with the exception of the endless trails of mud in the house, Jesse loved it. It was hard to believe she had been here only a month. Time seemed to move more slowly out here, and she felt like she'd been here years already. The fragrance that permeated the air, the soft, moist ground and the vibrancy of the colors in the trees and bushes after a storm made her remember the value of storms. Nature is a great example. Gibran says to accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
With moments of trepidation briefly suspending feelings of inspiration these days, plans were coming together for the resort, and the solitude offered Jesse a much needed spiritual preparatory. There seemed to be more questions than answers, as thoughts of angels and Julia monopolized her contemplations, and the combination of yoga and running each morning provided an essential release and centering of energy. Sitting on the porch at night, tucked in the soothing folds of the house, meditating under the starry sky, gave her the sense that the elusive answers were meaningless and trusting the sublime guide was the paramount key.
The phone became busier with bookings, and Jesse enjoyed this aspect of the business, allowing her an outlet to connect with people intellectually and get out of her emotions. She considered emotions to be the land mines of the personality, and one must use extreme caution when traversing such terrain. The bedroom was coming along nicely, and the piece
de résistance of her room, the floor to ceiling oak bookcase that until now existed only in the sketches of her fantasy, was finished. Her neighbor had skillfully put the blueprint of her fantasy into form, and she marveled at his flawless workmanship.
She spent a most enjoyable day unpacking books and ushering them to their new home, and when the last book was placed, she wished she had some champagne to christen it, so she used a bottle of apple juice instead. Less dramatic, but easier to clean up, she decided. She sat on the floor and gazed up at each shelf, each book, and relished the sight, knowing that another dream had come to fruition.
Jesse concentrated on the metamorphism from hermit to hostess, feeling ready to shed one and don the other, as the upcoming weekend of their first bookings approached. By Friday morning, Jesse felt relaxed and excited. Out of her sweats for the first time in a month, and setting the stage with potpourri simmering in the great room and upstairs hallway, a scrumptious smelling nut bread baking in the oven, and just noticeable instrumental music playing in the background,
Plaik'ni Inn was open for business. The house fairly wagged its tail in anticipation, and the energy truly seemed to shift in preparation for its guests. It's as if the pictures had motion, the furniture wiggled and the floors tickled your feet. These walls were alive and shone brightest with a full house.
Larry and Carolyn Briggs were the perfect pair to kick off the season, as they'd been coming to the inn for over ten
years and gave new meaning to making themselves at home, thinking nothing of calling down the stairs if they needed something. Jesse knew they were disappointed that the tavern wasn't open, so she put an ice chest with beer in their room on the morning of their arrival. After checking in and chatting with Jesse for a while, they went upstairs to get settled in.
Carolyn hollered down a few minutes later, "Hey, Jessie, is it legal for us to have beer up here?"
Jesse shook her head, laughed and yelled back, "I don't know, Carolyn, but it might explain why the OLCC rep is here!"
"Oh, very funny! Well, thank you, gal! See ya later." She yelled back down.
The Briggs' were equally as at ease in the dining room, and Jesse should have just handed them the frying pan and gotten out of their way. In the morning, they came down at nine o'clock on the dot, marched into the kitchen, got cups out of the cupboard (ignoring the set table), went to the dining room, poured their coffee and returned to the kitchen to sit and chat with Jesse while she cooked. Every few minutes or so between conversation, Carolyn would bark out a correction to her cooking: "Not too much salt, now; a little more pepper, there, that's it; oh, make sure that's good and cooked through; well, you can put on more butter than that can't you? We're on vacation, after all." Jesse smiled politely through each correction, and because her time was not in high demand right now she found the whole scene rather charming. When the food was ready, they took their plates right from the
kitchen and trotted out to the dining room, yelling back to Jesse to bring the ketchup.
Jesse was nervous, but covered it with laughter as she greeted newer guests throughout the weekend, focusing on maintaining her confidence. Jesse was having fun and hoped it would flow as effortlessly once Julia got here. The Saturday night guests requested dessert, and ended up socializing together in the dining room, then moved into the great room to explore the many treasures. There were board games, a chess set, checkers, backgammon, books, magazines, puzzles, the daily local paper, a dart board and a myriad of conversation pieces, all designed to provide people with entertainment since the inn is so far from a night out on the town. This group ended up playing Trivial Pursuit, and were still there when Jesse closed the store at ten, and asked her about some of the pieces in the room.
Behind the couch were a few of Garrett's many great auction finds: a seventeenth century oak refectory table that showcases an antique mahogany framed wall barometer, two candlestick lamps, and rough strips of wood framed around old photos of loggers hard at work, reminiscent of the area's economic heyday gone by. In no particular pattern all over the
house were niches in the brick walls that display books, photographs of Chiloquin in its early years and Indian artifacts including: baskets and other woven materials, tools, weapons, two-handed grinding stones, stone dishes, hammers, arrows, knives and miscellaneous pottery. The floor of
hand-fitted river stones in the foyer were blanketed by a home woven Indian rug designed with three majestic stags, posing handsomely like ghostly twilight sentinels to greet all who enter. The great room
flowed effortlessly into a long, narrow dining area, divided by a circular stone fireplace that
seated at least twenty people. The chimney was tiered with a facade of hand-picked river stone repeating the floor in
the foyer, animated by Claire's duck collection, safe from the curious hands of youngsters: porcelain ducks, glass ducks, clay ducks, wooden ducks, crystal ducks, ducks in flight, ducks peeking down at you as you sit on the stone hearth, brass ducks and even stuffed ones, but never roast duck...says Garrett.
Jesse was thrilled to be a tour guide for this place, as its character expressed itself without much help from her, and its charm drew people in and held them captivated. Her confidence grew as she talked and answered their questions, and one woman commented to Jesse that her deep affection for this place showed. After saying goodnight and going upstairs, Jesse saw this place for the first time again, and was completely enchanted. She was in her room reading when she heard them trickle up to their rooms, couple by couple. When all was quiet Jesse tiptoed downstairs, turned out the lights, and bid the walls good night. This place was amazing.
Thank you, God.
In her journal that night, she wrote:
Dear God, On days like today, it's all so easy. I don't feel like the salmon struggling upstream or lost in shark infested waters, but the dolphin dipping in and out of the sea with a playful ease and grace that only comes when I'm not looking for it. Thank you.
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