On a very, very wet morning sometime last week, Glenn and I rolled into Ashland, Oregon. Although we had planned to spend some time there, we thought we would have been camping. Not to worry, there is always the Shakespeare Inn. Where you can enjoy jumping to and from a warm-from-the-rain swimming pool to a steaming hot tub. This is where you can watch people come and go from the Inn and also watch local deer nibbling from neighbouring shrubs. On the main road into town.
Ashland is more than happy for you to wander up and down it's theatrical streets, dodging Hamlets, Romeos and even Juliet's. You can get yourself lost through Lithia Park where a man will be waiting by the slippery slide for the rain to stop in case you want to take your inner child on a memorable ride. They must not experience the rain in great lengths.
You will see a sign reading; "DANGER: YELLOW JACKETS". Be careful to verify with your husband what this is exactly. Is it a fish, like where I come from? No, it is not. It is a BEE. A tried-to-killer-me bee. When you feel like you just ran through a poisonous cobweb, DO rip your shirt off and run through the forest topless. If anything, it psychologically allows you to feel free of the killer bee's sting.
Ashland was just, pretty great. I very much will live in a big small town soon. It's just too alive not to.
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