What this includes is:
• 2-hour Assessment & Consultation with a BPI Professional
• New CFL Light Bulbs Installed
• Low Flow Shower Heads Installed
• Written Reports Detailing Recommendations

Some items recently discovered during Energy Audits include:
• Recalled Electrical Panels
• Recalled Heaters
• Insufficient Ventilation / Moisture (Mold) Issues with Attics & Crawlspaces
• Standing Water & Wood Destroying Organism Activity in Crawlspaces & Attics
• Myriad Simple Ways to Save Homeowners Substantial $ on their Utility Bills
• Poorly Installed Insulation & Air Sealing Measures
• Insufficient Clearances between Flues & Structure (Fire Hazards)
• Rebates Available through OPALCO
• Structural Deficiencies (Safety Issues for the Home)
• Plumbing Leaks
• Excessive Moisture at Ceiling (roof leaks) and Subfloor (toilet seals)

For more information go to: http://www.opalco.com/energy-services/energy-assessments/
Or Contact Elisa Howard at OPALCO: 360-376-3586

Horses by nature do not like to go in a trailer and be pulled by a car down the freeway. Ladybug was old enough so that her years of experience had taught her to be unafraid of the horse trailer; she would walk right into the big metal box. Her stable mates would often take a month or so of training to gain the confidence to go into the trailer. This process involved a lot of encouragement, some hunger, and plenty of grain, hay, or carrots.

At our farm on San Juan Island, our little girl soon outgrew her pony. She was on her way to six feet of height and becoming familiar with the basketball court. It was time for Ladybug to be passed on to other young children who wanted a little pony. We put an ad in the Journal for the San Juans and hoped to get a call.

The phone call came from a woman who lived on Stuart Island! She said that there was a little black pony on Stuart and a little white pony friend would be perfect for the children who lived there. She sounded very well informed about horses and she came out that week to look at Ladybug to check her out. She liked what she saw and agreed to buy her for a modest price. Here was the problem: there were no ferries that went to Stuart Island, only boats and planes. Her idea was for me to drive our horse trailer downtown to Friday Harbor, unload Ladybug, and turn over the lead to her. She would walk Ladybug in her halter onto a BARGE, stay on the other end of the line all the way out past the end of San Juan Island and on the Stuart. When the barge reached the shore of Stuart, the pony would then step off. I was so nervous about this adventure that I tried to talk her out of it. I told her I did not want to be there to see the pony walk onto the barge. I was certain that the water would freak her out and she would be running home to our pastures along the main road from Friday Harbor, her lead flying out behind her. I had been on many trail rides where my mount decided not to set foot in the two inch creek of moving water in order to reach the other side. The Buyer assured me that everything would be just fine, not to worry. She could handle it, etc.

I slunk home in my car, feeling guilty and imagining all sorts of crazy barge-horse problems. As I unhitched the trailer I saw the other horses staring at it with curiosity. What had become of Ladybug? Had she entirely disappeared? Back at home I tried to get calm as I remembered Marguerite Henry’s book about the ponies of Chincoteague which swam from the island to the mainland. I thought of the island deer that would swim from one island to another. I anxiously awaited a call from the new owner to tell me that Ladybug had safely reached the yonder shore. And, of course, she did. If I had been on the barge, she probably would not have for she would have sensed my fears and acted out upon them. For the new owner, who expected no such accidents, she behaved perfectly as expected. Ladybug and the little black pony lived out their lives giving pleasure to the children of Stuart Island.

We learned that Halloween wasn’t the same here. For one thing, the owner of many of the stores downtown dressed up in costumes for the business day. The owner at King’s Market, Vi King, was always a witch in black gown and high pointy hat. There was a funny attitude all the costumed people seemed to have, like it was perfectly ordinary and nothing was unusual in their dress.

Next, because many of us lived on acreage away from each other, it was necessary to go to our trick or treating exercises in a car. We would carefully plan on when each of us would be home, then work our car visits around that. The result was that we maybe went to somewhere between three and six places at the most.

Mostly, on Halloween, I remember taking the kids to Clyde and Ruth Sundstrom’s farm. They had such a great sense of humor they had named their barn the Barn Marche and that’s where they’d have garage sales. Clyde was one of the Sundstrom four brothers who had lived on the land since he was a boy. He married Ruth Guard, daughter from another farm family. Their turn of the century farmhouse was the scene of much family activity year round. Clyde was still farming then, and he had some nice horses. Every now and then he’d hitch up the horse to the cart and drive to the town of Friday Harbor, taking the cart down San Juan Valley Road. The special thing about Halloween was that Ruth would always make homemade donuts that night in honor of Clyde’s birthday which was on Halloween. There was no getting around the fact that you’d have to go into their warm kitchen for a spell and then each of your children would get a good teasing from him.

It didn’t take long for me to start collecting examples. For our first night at dinner we ended up at a local restaurant which I considered fairly spendy. To the contrary, my friends thought the prices were not expensive but ordinary, and they raved about the service. One sunny day we boated up to Stuart Island on glassy waters of perfection. I was pointing out that people live year round on Stuart, without electricity, land line phones, ferries, or any amenities. I got a question of, “Why would anyone want to do that?” And “How lonely that would be.” As an islander, I could give several reasons why but instead I thought about how much I personally would dislike living in an urban setting, commuting to work, and shopping at a mall. It is not that I do not shop. Few of them had turned to the internet and explored EBay to the extent that I had.

At my home, my friends seemed curious and delighted that I had several acres and a garden. My long, winding, and dusty driveway probably seemed like a backload adventure. I’m sure they had expected a much larger home than the scaled-down modular house that my husband and I love. He had spent the day mowing the large lawn so people coming to supper could enjoy the area around the pond and walk about as the day cooled down. Although our guests ate on our outside deck, they did not venture any further than the distance between the parking area and the front door. We had such a good time full of laughter, but I believe that if islanders had been our guests things would have evolved differently. They would have scattered all about the acreage, some eating on the grass rather than in chairs and many of them asking about the plants and trees and fish. They would have eaten a lot more dessert, too, I think.

Now that my college friends have gone, my good island dog that goes everywhere with me is much happier. He just hates a change in his routine. I felt a bit of a tug when their ferry pulled out, wondering when I would see them again. I couldn’t imagine feeling enthusiastic about their return drive south in traffic on I-5. My conclusion was that where we end up living does shape our interests and attitudes, regardless of our personalities.

It was an island wedding, with guests from afar and just down the road. A home-grown island girl and the guy she met at college were getting the royal send-off. But first, the energetic band was going to play the music that seemed to suit all the generations present: Rock and Roll. Little girls in pretty dresses flounced around in their filmy skirts and boys in cowboy hats jumped up and down to the beat on the wood floor that had been put together for the day.

It felt like the old island, when people came together and knew just about everyone because there were so few people residing here. The Gigantic Garry Oak trees that the first farmer had left in this field stood over it all. This family farm had been owned by several generations of the same family The beautiful bride in her ivory satin gown had been married there under the trees in the exact same spot as her parents were wed. I thought how proud her grandparents would have been of her on this day. Everything seemed to have come full circle.

But those obvious reasons are not what I think is the true gift of the tourist. The true gift from the tourist is seeing our island in a fresh way through their eyes. You can catch a glimmer of their excitement as they jump around at the ferry terminal, hardly able to contain themselves at the trip on a ferry. On the boat they may bring cameras, binoculars, or simply stand on deck for the entire trip. It takes the boredom right out of you if you are a frequent rider.

When tourists arrive by walking off the ferry, they appear to be in a state of surprised shock. They are finally here! They cannot believe it! They are looking about deciding where to go first. They are asking silly questions like “When do the whales go by?” They want to know where to get the very best hamburger. They ask you if you live here “full-time” and gasp when you say yes. Where ever they are from it is not here, and their joy in our island lets us appreciate anew how truly lucky we are to reside here. Seriously, let’s face it islanders, we were nearly all tourists here before we became residents. The tourist is a gift to remind us of what brought us here and what made us decide to stay.