Ashland and home
Ashland and home
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It's a hop, skip, and a jump to Ashland from Grants Pass. There we met Damiana for a little Oregon Shakespeare Festival "Culture Vulturing." Like her father, Damiana doesn't like to be photographed, and anyway, we were having too much fun to remember to take pictures. Sorry.
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 Elizabethan Stage
Ashland really knows how to run a drama festival. Every play we attended was sold out; we were unable, two months in advance, to get tickets to the more popular plays.
Morical House back deck |
We poked out noses through the gate to our favorite theatre, the outdoor Elizabethan Stage, but alas! we had no tickets.
The "Green Show"
So we saw three difficult plays (magnificently produced) including The Handler (fabulous!), Macbeth (fascinatingly stark production), and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. (What a horrible play! It hasn't aged well at all.)
We stayed in the wonderful Morical House and ate ourselves silly, as usual. Strolling the streets of this small, cosmopolitan, tourist-swarmed town is thoroughly enjoyable -- because the sense of localness, or identity, is somehow still intact. This is a place we (and thousands of other folks) will go back to again and again.
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The drive from Ashland home is also very familiar, a stretch through deeply indented forest lands along "One-Windy-Nine" then along the Redwood Highway and our "private driveway" from Leggett to bring us full-circle.
Like the old horse on its way to its barn, I was bent on heading home, and so the camera stayed in its hiding place. I guess I'll need to take another ride to Ashland, and be a better correspondent... Oh, darn!!
Doe and fawn out our window in Caspar |
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