Tripping In The Valley

I decided this morning to head out across the valley to the county park because in a few weeks it will be closed to dogs until September--a rule that annoys me no end, but whatever.  I also thought I might stop into Kruse Farms, a very well-known outdoor market in the area that reopened today.  Since they close each year right after Thanksgiving, it's sort of a "Yippee, it must be Spring because Kruse's is open again" big deal.

The walk along the river was really nice.  Hardly any people except fishermen, lots of birds, and just...quiet.  The river was rolling right along, no doubt due to the steady rains we've had for over a week now.

 

At this park, both the North and South forks of the river converge.  Oddly, the north side (above) is usually turbulent but the south side is calm and placid (below).  Nature is a mystery.

Trees.  I can't resist them...

So after a good long walk--it's a huge park--I drove to the other side of the valley to Kruse Farms.  Not only do they have fresh fruits and veg (though it's a bit early for the real market crops), but several greenhouses right now are filled with plants and flowers.

I wandered through the greenhouses...here are just two...

I really wanted a few of these wrought iron baskets.  I could just see them hanging off the front deck, out of reach of the voracious deer, and looking so cool all Summer.  Unfortunately, Kruse's does all the baskets for the town to hang on all the lamp posts and in front of the shops, City Hall, the Courthouse, the Library so these great baskets were not for sale.  This is just a small portion of the city's flowers; there were at least four times this amount behind where I was standing to take this photo.

Did I mention the bakery?  There is this most excellent bakery in the market building with an amazing selection of pies and candies.  Seriously, walking through those bakery doors is like stepping into Granny's kitchen the day before the church bake sale.  The heavenly aroma of pies fresh out of the oven, the variety of berries and apples, rhubarb and lemons, crumbles and turnovers.  (Oh, sorry, sorry, I'm drooling...)

The bakery was mobbed so I couldn't get any shots of the shelves filled with pies and candies.  Be thankful.  Drool isn't good for computers...

I wanted a pie so, so much, but there's only me after all, and though I could easily eat a whole pie, I honestly know better than to even give that a thought...for longer than a minute or two.  I bought this instead...a Cherry Rhubarb Turnover...

I also bought a jar of Marionberry jam, which is probably my most favorite berry in the world.  I have a recipe for these really great, healthy fruit bars and can't wait to make them with this jam.

You might have noticed from my photos that the weather has cleared up which means I must spend some time out in the jungle backyard this afternoon trying to wrestle some order from the chaos.  

Buggers.  I'd rather eat spoonsful of Marionberry jam...

Hey Dad...

Dad and I, Kodiak, Alaska, Dawn of Time

I saw my father this morning.  It's not the first time, though today was beyond a general similarity of features and into the realm of Holy Crap! It's Dad!  

Waiting at an intersection for the lights to change.  The folks to my right got the turn arrow, and Dad gave me a big smile as he drove past.  I was stunned.  This man was an exact mirage of my father, though in his healthy years, before he got sick, before his illness sucked him dry month after month; an image of my father before the weight of his fading health relentlessly pressed him down into the bent, weak shape of an old, old man.

The sound of a horn blast jarred me out of the startling moment and as I turned the corner toward the park, I could feel the tears pricking, the lump in my throat thickening.  But then I flashed on that face, my Dad's smile worn by a stranger, and I couldn't stop my grin.

What an amazing thing it was, to see my father, looking so fit, so healthy.  And that killer smile...no wonder he was a heartbreaker back in the day.  How strange life is, with these inexplicable moments that stun, amaze, and remind us that those we love are never truly gone, not so long as we remember.

It was really good to see you again, Pops.

Green Memories

Last night as the sun began to set behind a thick bank of clouds, I noticed an odd misty glow in the valley.  I went outside on the back deck for a better look.  The light, the green, the feel of what I was seeing reminded me so much of Ireland.

Though Scotland holds my heart, I also have a little place in there just for the Emerald Isle.  While Scotland is beautiful, wild and fierce, conjuring kilts and bloody broadswords, Ireland has always seemed softer to me, a land of the Fae, and leprechauns, and the bright, lucky green of shamrocks.

I took a few photos of the valley and the intense illumination of the different greens shimmering in the misty light...

If there had been fences made of stone, dividing the landscape below, I would have thought it a wonder that I had stepped out onto my back deck and travelled to another land...

April Showers

We had a monumental storm yesterday that was so wretched and wonderful, I could hardly stand it.  Honestly, one of my favorite ways to spend a great Sunday is crap weather, a good book, some delicious treats and a chilled bottle of vino.

Took the boys down the mountain for a nice, quiet walk at the VA and had barely gotten back to the car when the sky just imploded with strong winds, lashing rain, chaos and mayhem.  It was totally cool, though the dogs didn't think so.

Once we got home, I made a nice cuppa and was just ready to snuggle in and start my new book when I glanced out one of the windows that overlooks the driveway...and scowled at the unruly and overgrown hedge.  Another thing to add to the legion of other outside chores.  But I smile.  Because those chores won't be happening today.  

Then I spot an odd thing through the rain at the far edge of the valley.  What is that white..clump...in the distance?

I get the camera, zoom in...  Where did those trees come from?

More zooming...and I realize it's an orchard of some kind, though the trees look too close together.  Maybe I haven't noticed this before because, until they bloomed, they blended?  Huh.  I think at some point this week I'm going to drive out the valley and try to find the road that might take me by this place...

The spectacularly bad weather continues into today.  Fine with me, though the back lawn is growing so fast you can almost see the stalks rising like bamboo.

I don't have the manly tools necessary to trim the hedge, so called the guys who did the landscaping two years ago.  Really nice guys who have been more than helpful over the last few years.  This afternoon they arrived just as the next deluge began.  I brought the dogs inside, then took this shot out the window, though it isn't really apparent how hard it's raining, except for the blurred glass...

 
This looks much better.  And though I'm not usually all neat and tidy with shrubbery, this hedge/shrub/whatever was getting too out of hand.  Hopefully now it won't have to be done again for another two years...

 
They helped with a couple of heavy duty chores too, so I'm feeling some progress is being made on the yard work, even if it's not me doing it.  (And wow, that works for me).  As the guys drove away, the skies got really dark and ominous.  I took this last shot, then ran for cover...

 
It's truly amazing that even on a dreary, miserable day, there is still a glimmer of beauty and color...

The Jukebox

Walking the boys this morning in the eye of the storm.  It's been one squall after another for at least three days--and no, that is not a complaint!  Not only is this part of my world badly in need of rain, but it also means I can't be outside dealing with the yard work until the weather clears.

So, I'm walking along, blue skies in a small circular space overhead, black vortex of clouds swirling and menacing in the rest of the sky.  The trees are blooming, a few birds twittering, the VA complex quiet and peaceful.

And totally out of the blue, Eleanor Rigby comes into my head.  Seriously.  The song just starts right up like I've turned on the radio.  I start singing, softly, under my breath as the boys and I meander along, but when I get to this part...

Eleanor Rigby died in the church

and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
 

 Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands

as he walks from the grave
No one was saved

 

...I stop singing and just stand there as the lyrics echo in my mind.  I think for the first time ever I actually hear the words.  

 

Now, obviously I know the song is about lonely people--the chorus leaves no doubt on that--but suddenly I have this picture in my head of these two lost souls who have never found each other, who finally meet when it's far, far too late.

 

The boys and I carry on walking as my thoughts tumble.  What does it mean?  Why this song out of the thousands in my memory banks?  I'm a creature of intuition and mindfulness, omens and insight, but I don't get the message here, unless it's the obvious one: that I might be turning into Eleanor Rigby.  It is a bit lonely up here on the mountain after all...

 

But then again, sometimes I overthink things.  Sometimes there's just no rhyme or reason.  So, maybe it's nothing.  Just snapping neurons in my cluttered brain that turned on the jukebox and randomly picked a song, though I can't help but wish a less poignant song had been chosen.  Really, I've got a playlist in my head that rocks---

 

Wait...

 

Huh. 

 

That wretched evil twin.  Where did she get the quarters to play the juke? 

 



Week 14 of the 52s...Dog Biscuits

Because the weather has been pretty atrocious the past few days, I decided to find something I could do at home for the 52s this week.  Course, I was having a hard time thinking of just what that something was going to be...until I realized I was nearing the bottom of the dog treat container.

Ozzy has a really dicey stomach, so I've been buying these hypoallergenic cookies at the vet's for a few years now.  They aren't cheap, but I can also give them to Max as he will eat anything and doesn't care if the treats taste like hay smells.

My sister gave me this recipe she uses for her dog treats, which has no wheat, salt, sugar; basically just a plain, very organic and healthy biscuit.

The mix has quinoa, oatmeal, sweet potato, banana and a dash of vegetable oil.  Seems pretty easy to me, though the dough is sticky and mushy and very hard to dollop by the teaspoonful onto the cookie sheets.  Still, I manage.  And though it was a messy business, I get 48 doggy bite-sized treats.

After I took the shot above, I remembered that I was supposed to flatten each cookie so when they cooked they would end up like thin little disks.  Yeah, right.  The dough is so wet and gooey, it's just a joke trying to squish them flat, but eventually I get them in the oven.

Where they are supposed to cook for an hour and get hard and crunchy...

Don't they look all hard and crunchy?  Yep, I thought so too.  I put them on the rack to cool though wondered if they should feel like...vulcanized rubber.  Maybe they harden once they're fully cooled?

I gave the first piece to Max.  He will seriously eat anything put in front of him.  I think that's how he survived whilst on the lam.  He sniffed, he nudged with his nose, he sniffed...

Then he turned his head, and after I took this photo, he got up and walked away, leaving the treat on the floor.  In dog language I'm pretty sure he was muttering WTF? as he went.

Next I tried Ozzy.  He rarely gets anything more exotic than those hypoallergenic things from the vet, so I thought he would really dig these.  Right.  I tore a disk into several smaller pieces--and I mean tore.  It was like shoe leather--and laid them on the floor.  Ozzy sniffed, nudged, sniffed, then tried to eat a piece and honestly, it was painful to watch.

If you look close, you can see the treat is stuck in his teeth like a gummy bear.  He couldn't chew, so he's sort of licking and drooling and flaying as he tries to eat the damned thing.  Finally he chokes it down just about the time I'm considering the Heimlich, then he walks away in disgust leaving the rest of the cookies on the floor. 

An hour later he throws up all over the carpet.

So, okay, this week was an epic fail, at least in terms of having fun, but then it's not very realistic to think every adventure can be fun.  Life just doesn't work that way.  What I did do was step out of the box and try something new.  Whether it worked or failed is irrelevant, the point is, I did it.

And the treats?  Lobbed down the mountainside.  Maybe the birds will enjoy them.  Or better yet, they could build really great, nearly indestructible nests...rubber is pretty durable.

Magpie Tales 162...Heaven and Hell

Between Heaven and Hell, 1989 by Jacek Yerka 

It began with the apple

 

He said, cooking

his egg,

Women were Man's downfall

 

She said, eating

her oatmeal,

Men took no responsibility

 

Words flew, heating

in debate,

Around the breakfast table

 

He raved, then

stormed outside

Swirling black clouds calling

 

She sighed, then

walked quietly

Into the peaceful garden

 

Opposites attract, but

equally repel

Constant heaven and hell

 

He said, later

I'm sorry

and pulled her close

 

She said, softly

I'm sorry

and held him tight

 

They ate the apple together

 

 

  

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In Magpie Tales this week, there's so much stuff in this painting, I didn't quite know what to focus on.  The apple caught my eye, the Adam and Eve drawing in the corner, the opposing views out the door/window and then the two different meals, seemingly abandoned.

 

 

Back To Work

I woke up in the early morning hours yesterday and realized it was Easter Monday.  After many years living in Scotland, it just seemed natural for me to share in this three-day holiday.  Especially as I had set the alarm for the crack of dawn to call the bank...which would have been closed.  I turned off the alarm and went back to sleep.  I loved having that extra day, even if it was a holiday 6,000 miles removed from me.
 
This morning I decided to experiment with this idea I had for a photo project, though I thought the conditions had to be just right to pull it off:  clear puddles and blue skies.  I took my camera with me on the dogs' walk as there was a rain squall last night and when we left the house it was sunny, though vacillated between sun and shadow--making my experiment even better as it turned out.

Puddles 1 & 2...Blue skies and sunshine

Puddles 3 & 4...Overcast and dark

I actually think I like the dark ones best.  I'm going to continue to play with this idea, though around here I'll be hard-pressed to find any puddles in another month or so.

Driving back up the mountain on the way home I came around a corner to find a harem of female turkeys being driven across the road by a very large and bossy Tom.  I pulled off the road to take a photo, which really pissed him off.  He fluffed all his feathers and gobbled like a lunatic.  He was warning me, but I think was also telling them to get in the brush because they scrambled immediately.

 

After the girls were in the underbrush, he strutted across the road, still loudly shouting at me, though I got one more shot before the whole flock disappeared.  Handsome stud, isn't he?  For a turkey, I mean...

Continuing up the road, I had to slow down for a family of deer and as I waited for them to bound down the slope, I glanced up a driveway...and saw this lovely burst of yellowness....

I can't help wondering if the paint color for the County's hydrants is called Daffodil Yellow.  What a perfect match.

Now the sun is truly shining, so I guess my holiday is over for sure.  I have many things to do in the backyard, including mowing that blasted lawn before I lose both dogs to the jungle.

Ah, Spring.  Joy and jubilation.  Wildlife and wonder.  Chores and sweat. 

Happy Easter...

...and wishes for a really great Spring!

Magnolia Blossoms



Week 13 of the 52s...The Wild

This morning before walking the dogs I was thinking this might just be the week I don't get to the 52s.  Unlucky 13 could become a reality as I've been too busy to think of something fun or new.

I shuffled through the brochures, flipped pages in a couple tourist guides, then found the map for the covered bridges.  I shoved it in my pocket, grabbed my camera and loaded the boys into the car.

After the walk, we drove north up the freeway for ten miles or so, then headed west into the wilderness--well, at that point it was mostly farmland, but it was definitely the outback.

The Rochester Covered Bridge, built in 1933.  It's apparently famous amongst covered bridge aficionados because of the lovely curved side windows and something called the Howe truss span, which to me just looked like big timbered Xs.  I didn't get a photo of them, mainly due to the fact this is a well-trafficked bridge and very narrow.  When cars came, I had to dash out of the bridge and off the road, though everyone was very friendly and drove slow enough for me to sprint out of the way.

Just ready to drive through to the other side...

On the other side, I've parked the car and crossed the road. The arched windows were very cool...

I wait until there aren't any cars coming, then decide to risk life and limb to get some shots out one of those windows...

But.  Just as I'm walking forward, I hear this odd rustling below me, under the road span.  I hate rustling.  Snakes and creepy things rustle.  Tentatively I peer over the guardrail...



Surprise, surprise.  A young turkey comes out of the brush, pays me no mind at all and keeps right on foraging...

So, I step inside the bridge and quickly take this shot of the river out one of the windows.  Then a flurry of cars came and I decided to call it good on the photos....

As I turn to walk back to the car, I see the turkey has somehow climbed out from under the bridge, up the slope and has crossed the road...

(In case you're wondering.  I can't speak for the chicken, but I know why the turkey crossed the road:  There was lots of fresh, green grass.

Back in the car, I drive over the bridge and come to the intersection where I can turn east toward the freeway, or continue west into the unknown.  I turn west.

Meandering along, Spring is verdant and lush in the valleys, there are baby lambs and calves, the sun is burning away the low-lying fog and I smile that I've made the right decision to explore.  Then I see a sign that says Wine Cave 4 Miles.  Wine cave?  I slow down, look left up this winding, mountainous, one-lane road to nowhere, and figure why not.  I tell the boys to fasten their seat belts and into the wild we go.

I got lost.  Seriously.  So, so incredibly lost.  We climbed up the mountain, curled down the other side, went up another, crossed ridges and streams, and the further we went the narrower the road became and the thicker the trees.  I thought once about turning around but by that time I wasn't exactly positive how many lefts and rights were behind me.  Could I even find my way back?  I wasn't...quite...worried.  Really, how lost can you be if you're still on a paved road?  Plus, occasionally I drove past homes, and wasn't too concerned by the Trespassers Will Be Shot signs, though when I thought I heard the twang of banjos playing the theme song from Deliverance, I did have a moment.

But, an hour and a half and quarter tank of gas later, we suddenly popped off a mountain road and there it was, right in front of us.  The Umpqua.  Like the early explorers, I couldn't be lost now, all I had to do was follow the river...

(Which, I might add, is a theory that only works as long as the road runs parallel to the blasted river!)

More driving until eventually I began to recognize some of the landscape, the mountains in the distance, even a radio tower that I can see far across the valley from my living room windows.  It still took a good half-hour to reach civilization, though I was almost reluctant to head toward it when I reached the crossroads.

It was a really great, most fun adventure.  Not only finding the bridge, but all the exploring and the vistas and the wildlife and beauty in an early Spring day.

Oh, and that Wine cave?  Clueless.  I never saw another sign once I'd turned off the main road.  Maybe some day I'll try to find my way back there.

On the other hand.  I'm not really fond of banjo music...

The Borg

It was bad enough getting hacked last month, resulting in the loss of hundreds of my irreplaceable photographs and documents, and having to purchase a new laptop, but what I never mentioned were the issues I had with my bank account in Scotland. 

I have to do digital banking, due to the inconvenience of that pesky 6,000 mile gap between here and there, which I've been doing with no problems for nearly two years.  Because of the hack job, I went to my account on the bank's website, just to reassure myself that all was well. 

And couldn't log on.  My password didn't work, and yet two weeks prior I had been online to verify my HM Revenue tax refund had been deposited.

Naturally, I freak out.  I have to wait until the following morning to call the bank due to the 8-hour time difference.  When I get through to a very helpful and kind fellow, we check my account and all is well.  Though, because I can't just pop into my bank in Edinburgh, they have to send me an access code through the mail to reactive  my inexplicably non-active account.  It should only take 7-10 days, says Chris.

Three weeks later, still no letter.  I call the bank again.  This time I get Sam, another very helpful and kind fellow.  After talking and going over details, we figure the first letter, for whatever reason, never got sent.  Sam puts me on hold so he can talk to the actual department who send out these damn letters.  I wait for nearly ten minutes.  When he comes back, he's angry and apologetic.  Apparently what he was attempting to do was have the digital dumbasses give me the access code over the phone, but while he's explaining my problem to them, they electronically initiate the process of sending me another letter.

Which invalidates the first letter should that miraculously appear.  He tells them what they've done is totally unacceptable as I have already been waiting three weeks to access my account!  Too bad for me.  Too late now.  Button's been pushed.  Nothing to be done. 

I plan to call the bank this morning as three more weeks have passed whilst waiting for the second letter.  I've kept a firm grip on my temper, remained nice and polite, but now I've had enough.  However, last night when the boys and I walk to the mail box, lo and behold, the letter has arrived. 

This morning I sit down with my bank details, the letter and a sigh of relief that my six-week ordeal is finally over.

I put in my details, the code, and...wait...what?  Why do I have to reconfirm my account details?  All I want to do is put in the damned frigging bloody bugger-all sodding code!  I go through all the hoops of name, address, blah blah, then hit Next so I can put in my activation code and get on with my day.

The activation code I have used has expired, but they will send me a letter, that I should get in 7-10 days with my new code.

I stare in horror at this message.  NO!  I don't want a new goddamn letter or code!  I have it in my hand! 

Then I notice the date on the letter. 

It's the first one.  It took six weeks to be delivered.  That means the second letter is still three weeks out and will also be invalid when it eventually comes because today the third letter has been electronically sent from the online banking site.

Needless to say, I came unglued.  I can't scream and yell like I want to because the dogs would wig out, so I went downstairs and violently cleaned the garage, sweeping and snarling and mumbling and cursing until I had vented as best I could without tearing out my hair in utter frustration.

Monday I will get up at the crack of dawn to call the bank and though I want to rage against the juggernaut, it will change nothing.  I'll still have to wait. 

Resistance is futile.

100 Words...Heart of a Poet

Heart of a Poet

March 28, 2013

“Here you are,” she said, walking into the study.

He looked up with a smile as she asked, “Is that one of the books you bought at the library sale?”  Bending to read the title, she grinned.  “Well, aren’t you the dark horse.”

“Still waters run deep.”  Pulling her down beside him on the couch, he whispered in her ear, “I was thinking of you when I bought it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”  Voice soft, he began to read, loving her with words:

The face of all the world is changed, I think,

Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul…

 

****************************************

Sonnet Seven, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese.

Room At The Top

Wow, how did it get to be Wednesday already?  I've been busy, mostly with DIY chores including trips to Lowe's and Home Depot, then yesterday I had 8 yards of bark dust delivered which totally finishes off all the yard work I've been doing in the front lately.  

Just a small corner of the front.  My weeping cherry tree looks so cool with the dead Halloween oak as backdrop.  The Mexican feather grass is taking over the garden like Triffids...I expect world domination by next Summer.  It's so nice that everything is done and looks so good...

And no, don't say it.  Please, don't. I know it's temporary--yard work is never done--but just let me pretend for a few days, okay?

This morning, rainy and dreary, the boys and I went for a walk along the river.  I took my camera in case there were any new blooms that caught my eye.  Instead, as we approached the path that leads down to the river, I looked across at this large dead tree where there has been an abandoned bird nest for at least the two years I've been living here.

But wait.  I squint.  Do I see something...moving?

I unzip my hoodie, where I have stashed my camera, and zoom in on the nest.  It's a bit difficult to hold steady as I have two impatient dogs dancing at the end of their leashes, an umbrella, and now a camera...with just two hands.

Once I realize the nest is not empty, I ditched the umbrella, wrapped the leashes around my boot, and did some fast camera work as the dogs fidgeted and the rain fell...

Isn't this the funniest thing ever?  I truly expected to see one of the hawks, or even a Turkey Vulture as they have just returned from down south.  But a Canadian goose?  I also love that patch of grass at the front of the nest, like a little garden to decorate the homestead.

And I've gotta say again--for about the hundredth time: How great is my camera?

I'll keep my eye on Mother Goose and maybe before too long I'll be fortunate enough to see a wee baby or two one of these days.

Sundays In My City...Trees

Remember when I posted about going to my local Visitors Center and loading up on a bunch of brochures?  My intent was to gather ideas for the 52s, and send my nephew in Scotland some fun stuff to look at about the Northwest.

Yesterday whilst cleaning out a pile of magazines and other paraphernalia like catalogs and junk mail, I decided to pare down the brochures and just keep the ones I'm truly interested in doing/seeing.

I came across one that I didn't remember picking up, though being a long-time tree hugger, it would make sense that I did.  It's about the Heritage Trees that are found all over state.  There are 45 of these amazing trees, picked for their importance in national, state or regional history.  It would be totally cool to find and photograph all of them, but for my immediate purpose, I was struck by the one in my very own town called the Courthouse Elm.

It was planted at the County Courthouse over one hundred years ago, and now dwarfs the large and imposing marble-columned facade of the courthouse.  I have driven past this place numerous times, but for some reason, I never took the time to actually look.

This morning, after walking the dogs, I drove by, was briefly stunned at my blindness--it covers more than half of the building!--then I parked the car and took this shot...

I think it will be even more spectacular when all the leaves are out.  In the brochure photo you can't see the courthouse through the foliage.

Just because it's Sunday--and I've been reading a very good book this weekend that has totally captured my time so I haven't been on the computer--I want to share a few of my favorite photos from around my house and city...

Lost Limb

  Sun and Snow

 

Sunrise through Birch

 

I have such an affinity for trees.  I love to touch them, smell the bark, talk to the old ones.  Maybe in a past life I was Johnny Appleseed?  Or a wood sprite?  That would be cool...

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I haven't posted a Sundays In My City lately, so this is my homage to the beauty of trees in my area.