The strange appearance of the empty Peach Vodka bottle

The Strange Appearance of the Empty Peach Vodka Bottle.

Highway 101 loops around the Olympic Peninsula, coming North along the
Pacific Ocean, bending to the East past Lake Crescent, through Port
Angeles, Sequim, and then turning to the South along Hood Canal and
the quiet village of Quilcene, and on and on until it connects with
itself again. The rugged, majestic Olympic mountains surrounded by
towering evergreen trees, Hemlock, Cedar, Spruce and Douglas Fir. And
all is covered by thick, dense underbrush, hiding who knows what
monsters. Just above Lake Leland, six miles North of Quilcene is a
county road called Snow Creek Road. Following this back road which
was once the bed of a narrow gauge railroad, you curve up a steep
incline headed toward the Olympic National Forest some six miles
distant. Two and a half miles along Snow Creek Road bring you to a
rutty track moving off to the right. Two mail boxes tell the traveler
that the road leads to people. That rough track is almost a quarter
of a mile up another steep hill and ends at a double garage door.
Besides the house perched on the steep side of the hill, the only
other sign of civilization is a four stall horse barn down below,
close to the Beaver pond. The closest neighbor is about half a mile
away, and there are only four other homes between our house and the
National Forest.
In short, we do not have many casual visitors. Cathy's sister does
live in the apartment on the lower level in our home, but she has been
in California the past two months, visiting her grand children. So we
are here alone. Just Cathy and me. And that is how it's been for the
past 20 years. When we head out in the morning to work with our
clients, we close the garage door. At night we always make certain
the garage door is shut. We have some items in the garage that we
would miss if they were appropriated. All this is back drop for what
happened yesterday morning.
Cathy, as is her custom, padded out into the garage to fetch a pan of
bird seed to toss on the deck. The Morning Doves and the Red Wing
Blackbirds were demanding her attention. gold Finch were already
darting about their feeder, and Humming Birds flitted back and forth,
fighting for a taste of nectar. . Down on the Beaver pond a noisy
gang of Canadian Geese were yukking it up. "Carl". I heard my name
being called from the garage. I opened the door and Cathy was
standing there with a puzzled look. "Where did you find this bottle?"
she asked. "Bottle?" I repeated. "What bottle." At the back of the
garage, by the door into the mud room, are three tubs. One is for
paper, one is for plastic and tin cans, and one is for glass. "Didn't
you empty the bottles before we went on vacation?" Cathy asked.
"No, there were about three or four bottles in there", I said,
figuring that would take care of the situation. "You didn't put this
bottle in the tub?" she repeated.
"What kind of bottle is it? I could have put a bottle in the tub, for
heaven's sake." She handed me a long round tube-like bottle. I'd
never seen a bottle like it. "What was in it?" I asked. "Peach
Vodka!" The bottle was empty and dry. No lid. It was not a bottle
that had been laying around in the weather. The label was clean. No
one had been around since we returned from vacation. Nothing had been
disturbed. The TV was still on the wall and the silverware was still
in the drawer. No doors had been left unlocked while we were gone.
Only one neighbor knew we were not home. No sign of any prowler. No
reason for anyone to have tried to pry up the garage door, put an
empty booze bottle in our recycle tub and then force the door shut.
During the past few days since we've been home, no one has driven up
our road. No one has walked up our road just to toss away a bottle.
Yet, there it is. I told Cathy that I had never even heard of Peach
Vodka. Yuk! Even the thought of it turns my mouth sour. But where
did this bottle come from? I rubbed it, but no Genie appeared.

Carl Jarvis