Sunrise Thanksgiving Day

We had a marvelous Thanksgiving here in Long Creek. Mom came over early and between us, we got the house ready, baked all the pies and did a load of prep. Geno Beno did the town errands and Voila! By the time the rest of the family arrived, we were ready! HooRah! We had a great time. I believe it was my best ever as far as food. I made my first fresh pumpkin pies, a Blueberry and an Apple pie. As per requests, the super good, not good for you Ace’s stuffing was a strong presence. We added a recent recipe, yams cooked in maple syrup with pecans and butter, and we cooked an excellent ham from our local source, Russell’s Meats, in the crock pot with an aluminum foil lid, the turkey, of course and our own potatoes, mashed with the skin on. mmmmm Arwen made her gravy, Randy made wheat free stuffing and pumpkin pie. Of course before that dinner, we had to work off the traditional breakfast of sausage wrapped in crescents and quiche. So we headed up to the old pine forest. Peter got in trouble for throwing snowballs and Arwen proved the ice sound.

Arwen tests the ice

Ted & Quinn

Randy & Rhiannon

Dana prepares the table

Randy carves Turkey

Mom, Arwen and Peter load up

After fun in the snow, we assembled dinner and Randy and Peter carved. We really feasted. Boy howdy, it was great. The really great thing was seeing Ted doing dishes…he he. To be fair, he always has, but we never get a record. Now  we have one. Next day, Gene and I joined the caravan back over to the valley so that we could share the John Day Fossil Beds and Painted Hills with Peter.

Rhiannon has her own table

Geno and Judy get theirs

Ted dries

All the kids at the fossil beds

Randy, Dana and Rhiannon at Painted Hills

See the whole darn show

Here’s my pretty plant shelf, blocking the ugly addition on the house next door, and the tablecloth that inspired the new green and blue paint on it. Susan Ross, now deceased, made the tablecloth and I got it at the church garage sale. I love the color. Tomorrow, Gene and I get up before there is oxygen and drive to the VA clinic in Boise. We’ll stay overnight in Ontario, then come back early Saturday and stop by the Vet’s with Buckwheat. He’s not doing so well right now. Our sweet Peace Dog is aging fast. The wind is going at it again. I hope that our quick fix on the goat shelter holds, but boy, it sounds ominous out there. I won’t post tomorrow, but will be back sooner than later. We are thinking, especially of the Corvallis Peace Vigil. No doubt, you’ve seen the YouTube Video, but here it is anyway and we send love to them. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48xOVPa2RME

Well…

It was windy enough to blow the goat shelter over: goats and all. I stepped outside this am to take a picture of the sunrise after a brutal night of wind. It was warm and calm, but I had this strange feeling, so I walked up the sidewalk and looked up at the goathouse. It was on its back. I ran into the schoolyard and called the goats, but they didn’t answer, so I ran the rest of the way up and stood way up on my tiptoes and peeked over the floor, which was now facing east. Three sweet little goat faces looked up at me imploringly and finally, they started talking to me. Poor things.  I estimate that the shed with goats and goat detritus weighs at least 600 lbs. We figured the wind was gusting at 60 MPH and since the wind was blowing from S to N, we surmise that it came down off of the mountain, did a boogie round to the east and came back, lifting the shelter onto its back.  Goats were fine, after we got them tipped back up and gave them a treat. Oh and the sunrise pictures were nice too.

We are happy and warm in our new doublewide, but Kismet is still literally, sitting on the fence.  I often find her sitting on the old front porch, which really is understandable considering it is covered and our new porch is not…yet. All in good time. Right now, the tools lie under tarps which in turn, are under about two inches of snow. So we must get started on our shop. We bought the wood and as soon as we build the intestinal fortitude to go outside in the cold; we’ll get started. We had a hard time getting out of bed this morning because I, in a moment of silliness, or maybe, wisdom, ordered a “bedroom in a bag” from Macy’s online. I suffered with the secret for a week, then confessed to Gene that I had spent a bit of money on a clearance sale dress up for the bedroom. What a sweetheart! He was as excited as I was when it arrived yesterday. By the way, yesterday, was the first day of work that I had under my new contract with Long Creek School District. And, this year, it is all above board. I am getting paid $18 an hour for sixteen hours a week to be a grant and technology assistant. They will be paying my taxes and unemployment insurance and Mr. Durfee, our new superintendent, treats me with respect. I am thrilled. But back to to the bedroom.

Here is Geno Beno showing his before personality on the before photo of our bed. It took us all evening and we have to buy a rod the right length for the valance, but our bedroom has been transformed!  Kismet may well decide that the new house is best now, judging by her approval of the new bedding as I finished it up. Here are few more photos, but none of Geno after cause that’s none of your beeswax!

So, it’s a bit wrinkled, but being Polyester, they will fall out, I think. At any rate, it sure was hard to get out of our cozy little nest this morning. I’ll leave you with a few more photos of the descent to Monument with the latest storm coming in and up to us. The header photo was taken on the same drive down at the beginning of the last and steepest descent.

Gene and I have moved to a new manufactured home that the school installed next door to the little place that we used to live in. FYI: the place we so lovingly cleaned up was overtaken by the owner this summer. He decided not to sell it to us, his dog killed one of my chickens, he broke every landlord tenant law there was and I was at the point of moving back to Corvallis. That is when the school stepped in and put in a double wide for us.  Which meant the third move in just over a year. Life, as we know it, is nothing but busy and for me, stressful. First, I had to get out of the place next door and then, I had to come up with storage for our tools. So, enter ShelterLogic. Gene had to go to a last minute, 3 day training, so I enlisted several of the boys to assist me. They were great and it only took us five hours to put up. I cannot say enough about their hard work. Now about that shelter. It is a great portable shelter, but no portable shelter can withstand the crazy wind that comes up in the winter here. In my defense, I thought that we would be able to secure it with extra tiedowns to keep it down to earth. Unfortunately, about the same time as the tornado in Lincoln City, we got an early taste of the heavy winter winds before the extra tiedowns got installed. So, in the middle of the night, the poor shelter was ripped up and lay on its back like a beached whale.  The only reason that it didn’t go off on an adventure is that one of the hold down cables held. It was a sad sight.It lasted exactly one week. I’ve since dismantled it and hope to use it in the future. We also moved our two raised beds, dirt and all over to the new place. We will be making cold frames soon. And, the poor chickens were staying in the animal crates. The whole place is a mud pit and the back yard looks like the backside of poverty, but I am preservering because at least now, I have closets and a real stove and I get to do laundry inside! Yay! So, Gene and I have built the sweetest little chicken coop I’ve ever had and next, we will build a storage shed. The goats are at the school. Cindy Wilburn gave me a hen with chicks and two pullets. They are Buff Orphingtons and the chicks are pretty cute. Here are a couple of pictures of  coop and of them. Next time, a tour of the new place and  a happier note.

Gene and I have been exploring the Forests and BLM land north of Long Creek in the Blue Mountains and the Elkhorn Mountains. Although at this time of year, there is a lot of dust and forest fire smoke, the area is still stunning. First, there is Olive Lake, a true glacial lake rather than man-made and one of the very few natural lakes in the Blue Mountains. Olive Lake was named after a woman who was the wife of either a dam keeper or miner in the area whose hospitality was superlative.

It sits just below the North John Day Wilderness Area and between highway 395 and Granite, Oregon. In 1907, local miners/entrepreneurs ran a pipeline constructed of wood and steel to the newly constructed Fremont Powerhouse. The power house generated electricity for local mining towns and households until it was decommissioned in 1967 and presented to the Umatilla Forest Service District as a historically significant building. Sadly, it fell into disrepair and if not for Sgt. Joe Batty, a teacher and reservist in the Army Corp of Engineers who talked that group into adopting the powerhouse as a project. The care taker who gave me a tour of the building told me a great ghost story about Joe and the Powerhouse. It seems that he was the one who found Joe Batty lying outside of his cabin dead of a heart attack with his arms full of wood and his favorite red and black wool cap still on his head. A few months later, another caretaker went up to do some work and had to shovel snow away from the great entrance doors before going in to build a fire to warm himself during the day. At the end of the day, he banked the fire, swept the entry of snow again and left. When he came back early the next morning a cap was lying right in front of the door. The caretaker who found Joe Batty confirmed that it was the cap that he died in. The cap now hangs above the powerhouse office because all of the caretakers know that Joe Battery loved the place so much, that is where he is to this day. Lots of pictures below of Olive Lake and the Powerhouse. Note the granite backing the big electric switches and dials. It is from Italy and is a natural ground that stops electricity from traveling.

See all the photos at my Google Albums

Today Mom and I went fishing. Mom, who has only fished for catfish as a child and when we were little, informed me this year that she wants me to take her fishing. So, for her birthday, we got her a pole in her favorite color, a license and off we went. She, of course put a lot of prep time in beforehand by purchasing and reading “Fishing for Dummies” and practicing casting with some lovely purple string. I, on the other hand, just loaded my favorite pole and tackle box which was given to me by Mother Russell. It was her equipment and I keep her last license right there in the box because it reminds me of her. But I am getting a bit ahead of the story. As we were driving out to Haystack Reservoir, we came across a family of Vultures soaking up the sun along the road. I sure do love the east side of the Cascades. I stopped the car, turned around and parked in the middle of the road to get some great shots while they obligingly struck poses.

Then, we went to the east side of the res, but only caught lots of mosquitoes. so, we piled back in and went to the dam. They had a nice fishing dock that was empty of folks, but not garbage. I picked up the garbage and then we commenced wetting our lines. Well, mom caught a nice little Bluegill and I caught nothing. Should have read the book I guess. When we got bored, we decided to head up the road to see where it went. It turned into gravel, but we were not deterred and continued on our merry way. That is, until I heard the ominous sound of splitting rubber and escaping air. I have always prided myself on keeping my tires and car road worthy, but I guess with moving and driving back and forth from Long Creek to Corvallis so many times, combined with neglecting to rotate tires that whole year caused me considerable embarrassment. The front tires were bald. Thankfully, Dave’s Towing, from Prineville, came right out and changed that tire. interestingly, another vehicle came down with a flat about a hundred yards up the road as we were leaving, so Dave’s made double on that run. We headed right to Les Schwab in Prineville and went shopping. Three hours later, with new “shoes” for the car on top of an alignment, we decided we didn’t want to fish anymore, so we went up to Madras to see a new sculpture honoring a local (Madras) young man who died in Iraq. Private Thomas L. Tucker. I think that the pictures speak for themselves. But I will speak for myself. It is about damn time the politicians in Washington went and fought their own dirty little wars and left our children out of it. Having said that, I have no idea how this young man’s mother must feel. I imagine she is proud of her boy, as I would be. It is obvious this young man truly cared about the people in Iraq and he gave his life for them. I wept as I took these photos. I wept for his mother and for all of the mothers of sons and daughters who will never see their children again. And I wept for all of humankind who believe that killing other people is the answer. It is not.

Every day, at least twice a day, the Turkey family walks down the creek between the the Deacon’s and the Mayor’s houses, then across the street, through several more yards, visiting different folks along the way. I know people over in the valley get mad at turkey poop around, but here, it seems that our feathered neighbors are welcome by all.

Naturally, many Long Creekians look forward to Thanksgiving Dinner featuring one of the family, if they get caught outside of town. But until then, folks are happy to see all of the “young-uns.”  The other day, Gene and I stopped and took pictures as they loitered. The adults are very watchful of the the young.You will notice that the babies are different ages. This is apparently quite common.

Hope you weren’t holding your breath for the end of the hormone story. Truth is, my doctor in Corvallis refused to consider bio-identical hormones and I found someone in John Day who is completely behind them. Further, the pharmacist in John Day at Len’s Drugs is a compounding pharmicist and he has trained the medical community about bio-identicals and so, end of story. Here’s what’s going on in a nutshell.

Peter flies in early to surprise Arwen and surprises “mommo” too, with a proposal to my beloved daughter. Guess I will have to get over flying. I won’t bore you with the details of grieving for myself while being estatic for my daughter.

Meanwhile, in Long Creek, the owner of the house informed us that he is not selling to us and continues on into the fourth month of construction and washing clothes outside, then hanging them to dry. Yes, I am saving energy, but thank goodness I have the time to do this. It takes much longer.

Fortunately, the school is installing a manufactured home next door for us to rent. It has closets, people. Do you know what it is like to live without any closets at all? It has a little pantry to. I cried when I heard I get closets. Course, I had to move and sell goats. The three fiber producers are up at the school and the two cuties are in Corvallis at a new home.

Other than that, not too much happening. Spent almost a week down at Grant Co. Fair with 4-H group in goats that I lead. The young women showing swept the awards. Next year, we’ll show Pygoras too.

And last, but not least, yesterday, Pax  lived through getting hit by a car. He is a very lucky dog. Bruised and shaken, but no broken bones, internal injuries or stitches. Just road rash and bruised ribs, and right front leg.

Sometimes, I think I am clearly crazy. Certainly, this last six months, I have been so far gone, I intimately understand how some women  in the first half of the last century were put into insane asylums when they hit menopause. I feel as if I lost every part of myself and surely would have acquiesced to almost anything to get myself back. I have been gone, mentally and emotionally, to a place I thought I would never be: the abyss of despair, cynicism, and a whole host of other nasty states of mind that wreak havoc with one’s soul. Thankfully, the bitch who took over is on the retreat and for some reason, this appears to me to be a miracle almost as beautiful as a visitation I had long ago that shaped my life profoundly. At that time, I was torn to pieces over a decision that would not only change my life, but would have deep repercussions throughout my family. I felt certain that I had one choice if I was to live, but I was afraid. In the midst of my malaise, I took a favorite dog companion, Luther, for a hike up one of the many hills in Oregon named “Bald Hill”. The walk was a demanding little path that shot straight up through blackberry brambles, then a sharp turn through  a young mixed forest and even sharper incline up onto a high meadow, covered in August, with tall golden grasses. The sky was as blue as wild delphiniums and there were no clouds anywhere. I stood there, at the top of my small world, head thrown back, heart broken open, begging for a sign that I was making the right decision. Luther lay close by in the shade. In one breath, the sky was full of swallows. They flew in great figure eights around me that grew smaller and smaller until I felt them, hundreds of them, brushing across the top of  my head and heard the sound of their wings whistling in the air as they brushed by me, flying down and around my face, shoulders and upper body before swooping up again. Hot tears began to roll silently down my cheeks and the wind from their wings cooled them.  My heart eased and their figure eights turned into a great whirlwind of swallows flying faster and faster as they moved in a great funnel straight  up and winked out of sight. I have always loved swallows and now, they are back, just as I am back. There is always hope. In the next post, the story of the doctor owned by the pharmaceutical industry and the small town super hero known as Greg, the pharmacist.