[su_dropcap style=”simple” size=”7″ class=”my_drop_style”]H[/su_dropcap]ere on the borderland between the forest and the desert we have, perhaps, a unique perspective on the world around us. To the north lies the primeval home of the imagination, and to the south, the desolation of our hearts. Here in Eastern Oregon it is a narrow transition zone which allows humans to prosper, although you could not find many folk in Germaine who would call their existence prosperity. Still, in the scope of history, even for most people in the world today, it is not merely prosperity, it is abundance.
The Applegate Trail is more than just my personal weblog, it is the diary of my town, that little spot of green on Tamarack Creek where my ancestors stopped to rest, and never left. It is their history, and their struggles, and their tears that I inscribe with the hard edge of truth, for I believe in the adage that the truth shall set them free.
Germaine is a town like other towns, full of mysteries, dark secrets, and hopes fulfilled or abandoned. We are a small town, about as tiny as you can get, and still be a kind of microcosm of the world around you. We defy stereotypes. We are conservative and liberal, and other things closer to the edge of acceptability. We are farmers, and ranchers and city folk, come to find a more peaceful existence. We are religious and non-religious, and some of us hold our spirituality, like our innermost desires, in a protective place close to our hearts. For the most part, we like to keep to ourselves, we Germainers. We are Americans of the Great American West, after all.
Begin The Applegate Trail here: Dark Cloud Over the Ochocos