Much-needed rain is falling softly from the skies that hang low and gray. I’m sitting cross-legged in an over-stuffed chair near the fire and hugging a mug of Chai latte.
We’ve been gone from this oh-so-comfortable home these past two weeks. A road trip through Idaho to Utah, and then over Oregon’s Cascade Range to the Land of Grandkids.
Our dry creek was begging for a bridge. So Dan and I built a whimsical little structure out of scrap lumber, attaching the cross pieces at uneven angles. Just for the fun of it.
My friend, Sandy, with her gift for storytelling, is currently working on a documentary about my friend, Charity, titled “Reach for the Stars.”
Goosebumps are the first sign I’ve found a story I want to tell.
– Sandy Cummings
“Bend’s growing season begins June 30 and ends July 1,” the old farmer said with a twinkle in his eye, referring to our hometown. We were purchasing fruit at his Eastern Oregon orchard, and we laughed because it was close to the truth.
We attended a full day of observed motorcycle trials this past Saturday. Dan rode his vintage Bultaco and was the best rider out there, if you want my unbiased opinion.
The only thing is, he wouldn’t let me bring my pom-poms.
Back in elementary school, I tried growing an avocado tree from a pit balanced on the rim of a water glass with the help of toothpicks. Not sure what happened to that seed, but there was never an avocado tree in our backyard.
It was Maddie, our 12-year-old granddaughter, who inspired me to try this fun nature experiment once again.
Longtime friends of Dan’s own a historic cabin on the Metolius River in Camp Sherman. It comes with an invitation for Dan to use it any time.
A few Saturdays ago, we helped these friends with a couple projects: an outdoor covered porch and an indoor rod-and-curtain-hanging endeavor. (And when I say we helped, I mean mostly it was Dan while I cheered him on.)
Our almost 19-year-old grandson, Titus, and his girlfriend, Jane, spent the weekend with us. They had a goal of climbing South Sister, which is the third tallest mountain in Oregon—right behind Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson.
There are a dozen items that still need to be completed — touch-up paint, a step from the mudroom down into the garage, a gas line to the outdoor fire pit.
But we’ve moved into our refurbished home and all boxes have officially been unpacked (although we may or may not have stuffed things into the closets and pantry so it appears we’re settled in).
“We’ve all come from different places, but we’re still family,” said Dan’s 14-year-old grandson, Jack. “Godfrey’s adopted, which leads to you. And then you married Grandpa Dan who is my grandpa through my stepfather. So there’s three different factors that go into our connection.”
“I actually like having this wonky connection,” chimed in Godfrey, my 13-year-old Ugandan-born grandson, “because it’s better than the normal story of people I hang out with.”
Copyright © 2024 Marlys Johnson
