La Conner

What was once a thriving farming and fishing village where money from hand-shake deals and production flowed out into the economy, La Conner is now overrun by yuppies.  The character of the old town remains…with facades…last night’s choice of B&B seemed ancient but eloquent; built just 15 years past, a remarkable representation of histoic preservation.  But there are still a few remaining relics as this morning, 7:30am, there sounded a siren (a repeated siren, I must add) howling up, then down with a funny ‘dribble’ of a noise and then repeating again, up, down, with a ‘dribble’.  And as this went on (we’re now awake) Lynn and I guessed its meaning; she guessing it to be a volunteer fire department, I was guessing it a tsunami warning.  It was later in the day that Steve and I, while chatting with a farmer, learned that this siren is a surplus air raid siren confiscated by the local volunteer fire department.  Its tone is resultant of the siren being wired three phase and being installed in a single phase firehouse.  Through a phase rotor(?) (or a flux capacitor?) the power is developed into the proper three phase needed.  And so, the siren’s sound whirrs up to a mighty howl, then whirrs down to the beginning tone, then the ‘dribble’ (growl while rolling your tongue) as the siren winds down to unusable levels of electrical phases.  (I’m explaining this to all you laymen as many technical 'lectric terms are unfamilier to me).

And so it’s only in La Conner you can find a mix of army surplus and a fireplug in a potato field (the yuppies are quite fearful of potato fires.

And it’s only in La Conner you can find a reminder for the yuppies to share the road with farm equipment.  Now, if they would only quit honking at me while on the round-about of the wheat field.

And it’s only in La Conner you can find an organic beat (and weed) field.

And at my friend’s back door, a spinach field planted for seed.  Awesome!