“For there is always a sanctuary more, a door that can never be forced, a last inviolable stronghold that can never be taken, whatever the attack; your vote can be taken, your name, your innards, or even your life, but that last stronghold can only be surrendered. And to surrender it for any reason other than love is to surrender love.”
― Ken Kesey, Sometimes a Great Notion
The McKenzie River claims the watershed west down from Mount Washington, through Clear Lake, into the Willamette Valley. In December, the river is full and furious, trimmed with rime. The torrent grinds out agates from the mountain rock and sweeps them downstream. Ice edges the banks daring the water crashing over the black rocks. In my memory, it was December. I remember thinking how dark the water would be, how snow would line the banks, how cold the descent.