When my husband and I arrived in Washington State from Puerto Rico, I took up finishing a long-abandoned novel, The Irony of Tree Ferns. Most of the novel takes place in Puerto Rico during World War II, but part of it needed a contemporary U.S. setting. Why not the Inland Northwest? I eventually decided to locate the contemporary part in Coeur d’Alene. Those who knew I was writing the book asked why I didn’t locate it in Spokane, where I live. The answer has to do with the Christmas lights at the Coeur d’Alene Resort.
A mini adventure:
My first Christmas in Spokane, one of my daughters and I decided to drive to Coeur d’Alene to see the advertised million and a half lights at the Coeur d’Alene Resort. We’re both suckers for the magic of Christmas lights. Though there was no snow at the time, it nevertheless seemed a rather scary undertaking – driving through bitter cold and darkness to navigate a city I didn’t know. We exited at Northwest Boulevard and drove past darkened buildings and shopping centers, many of them etched in holiday lights. One final curve in the road, and we looked out on a black Lake Coeur d’Alene and the resort’s trees and buildings lit up in fairy tale splendor.
The boardwalk:
Illuminated holiday figures — from Santa and his sleigh to nutcrackers as well as whimsical dragons and other creatures — line the resort boardwalk. The wood walkway wraps around the resort marina, and, at almost three quarters of a mile, is dubbed the longest floating boardwalk in the world. At one point a sixty-foot-long bridge arches above the lake where boats enter and exit the marina. The boardwalk is open to the public free of charge year-round. In the summer, visitors think of getting in the water; at Christmastime, they content themselves with oohing and aahing at the colorful displays that brighten the surrounding darkness.
The epiphany:
As my daughter and I observed the lake and the lights, I realized that, if I squinted my eyes and ignored the fifty-degree difference in temperatures, I could imagine I was back in Puerto Rico, looking out over the ocean and the equally festive lights of San Juan at Christmastime. That is what decided me to set the contemporary part of the novel in Coeur d’Alene.
The passage:
Here is an excerpt from the as-yet-unpublished novel:
However, my favorite time on the balcony [of a home in Coeur d’Alene] occurs in early winter, when cold air bites at the skin and snow hasn’t yet whitened the landscape. Settled into a deck chair, dressed in boots, jacket, mittens and hat, wrapped in a blanket, I take in the lake’s shadows. The water, silent and black as the inside of a cave, stretches far beyond my vision. Hills and evergreens fuse into a uniform charcoal gray, and stars form frozen specks in a pitch-colored sky. Tiny lights pinpoint homes and add festive cheer to a lakeside resort.
If I look long enough into the darkness, the shadows transform. The lake no longer looks like a lake, but like a bay facing a vast ocean. The pines become palm trees and seagrapes, silhouetted against a graphite sky. Even the Arctic blasts lessen to velvety breezes.
I’m back in the Caribbean, searching for answers about Laura Morrison.
Have a wonderful holiday season.