“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.
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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.”
“I’ve got a vacation house for a discounted rate,” said our friend Steve. “Why don’t you join me?” Two days later, we loaded up our gear and headed out to one of the last frontiers in the United States. Eastern Oregon.
Turns out, Steve was the perfect tour guide because he knows just about everything and everyone in this far-flung place.
Relationships aren’t very practical. These past three weeks—as Dan and I have been in the process of moving back into our refurbished house—a lot of people got in the way.
We took a week off from unpacking to camp and fish and kayak with friends—people Dan has known since grade school and high school.
Dan and I are camping at one of the mountain lakes in our area this week. One of the loveliest things about camping is this: it affords the opportunity to put away to-do lists.
