Harbor House

About 9 years ago, we had been talking to some friends who had stayed at a bed and breakfast inn. It sounded like fun so we started watching for them. I picked up a book on country inns at the bookstore and we started reading about them and looking for something that sounded like "us". We narrowed it down to 2 that were on the northern California coast. One was in Elk and the other was in Westport. We called the one in Elk and found that they were full for the weekend that we wanted to go, so we made reservations at the one in Westport.

On the way to Westport, we stopped at Elk to "check out" Harbor House. It was love at first sight. As we walked in the front door, it was as though we had come home. There was beautiful music playing and a look of hominess that is hard to explain. We hadn't even seen the inn in Westport yet and already we were disappointed that we weren't staying in Elk. It turns out that the inn in Westport was very nice and we really enjoyed ourselves. But we just couldn't forget Harbor House.

The next year we made reservations well in advance for Harbor House and started looking forward to our stay. Eight years later we are still making reservations a year in advance and looking forward to our stay all year long.

Two years ago during our stay, I started thinking about the various rooms. We have only stayed in two of them (we really are creatures of habit). Each room has a name, and it seems to me, a personality. I wrote 3 verses, one for each of the upstairs rooms. Then, as seems to be the way of things there, I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and I went to sleep. I never did get back to the poem on that stay. A couple of times during the past two years I've looked at it but never had inspiration that would allow me to continue. Last year we went to Hawaii and never made it to Harbor House. This year I could hardly wait. No sooner had we got settled than I started thinking about the poem. A couple of hours later, it was finished. Or so I thought. During the last year they had converted the downstairs office to a room and renamed two of the cottages that used to share a name so that each had a name of its own. The next day I set out once more to complete my task. And this time I think I made it. This poem is an attempt to capture the feelings that I had as I stood in each of these rooms. It is also a rather feeble attempt at expressing the love that I have for this very special place.

Gale L. Wolfenbarger

17 September 1991

Harbor House

The Lookout watches evening's tide

As silent shadows creep

Where lovers steal away to hide,

Their rendezvous to keep.

And weary souls with heavy hearts

Safe Harbor there have found,

All seek the peace that it imparts

With every sight and sound.

The rolling hills and clouds so white

Caress the skies of blue,

While golden sun bathes fields with light,

All scenes from Meadowview.

The Cypress views the hills and guards

The gardens to the sea

Where flowers spill down craggy cliffs,

Sweet fragrance on the breeze.

The Greenwood greets each guest who comes

With arms that open wide

And bids them shed their cares and fears

Like foam upon the tide.

The Redwood stands it's silent watch

O'er travelers on their way,

Seeking warmth and shelter

At dusk, the close of day.

Cypress soldiers guard the sky

O'er Shorepine's fragrant dell

Where Eucalyptus and nasturtium 'twine

And blackberry vines as well.

While Oceansong sings to the sea

Of days now long since past

Of trains and trees and ocean breeze

And ships with sails on masts.

And if you seek a quiet place

With scenes more private still,

Perhaps you'll seek for Edgewood where

The flowers dot the hill.

But if the sea makes feelings stir

For you 'neath skies of blue

Perhaps today you'll seek the waves

That crash beneath Seaview.

Whatever makes your feelings stir

Or fills your soul with peace,

Harbor House still waits for you

Beside the rolling sea.

Gale L. Wolfenbarger

15 September 1991