Far From the Madding Crowd

I think I've used that title before, but it's apt for where we went today. We (finally) took our annual hike on the Crooked River Grassland.

Goddy and I usually do this in February or March, but time slipped by us this year. I did go up there with my dear friend Becky then, so it was a bonus for me to have two meanders in a still-fairly-wild place. Well, calling it wild might be a bit of a stretch. How about relatively undisturbed by crowds of people?

We've never seen more than one or two others out there and there's so much space its easy to lose sight of them pretty quickly. Not that we're anti-social...

...but the flowers are so much prettier surrounded by nothing but space

We parked the truck in a hunters camp, just off the main road that goes across the area. Then we set out in the general direction of Wychus Creek. I wanted to get to where we could see the creek. If you don't have some sort of a goal in mind when heading out, you just wander around. Which is good on some days, don't get me wrong. A mindful wander can be very invigorating.

As long as you can see a mountain you won't get lost.

It rained this week, so there were some bonus tiny tarns for the dogs to quench their thirst. They lapped up the opportunity like seasoned pioneer dogs (which they aren't but you wouldn't have known that today.)

We got to where we could hear the creek and see across the canyon but weren't too keen to navigate down to the water. This time of year, when Goddy is shearing most days, his legs protest at going down steep canyons and since we want to keep those pins happy we stayed up top.

As we wandered back toward the truck we both were thinking about why this grassland exerts such a pull on us. There are many more beautiful places to hike in and certainly less rocks to clamber over. But this was our space as we learned how to be Americans again.

When we worked at Long Hollow Ranch, which has the permits for the grazing allotments on the grassland, the cattle summered on the expanse. We rode around the perimeters of the pastures, checking fences and getting familiar with the lay of the land. We hauled water up to the cattle every day, and organized the drives to move them through the pastures and bring them back to the ranch at the end of the permitted time. Although our time at the ranch was short, the hours spent on the grassland helped us understand this western way of life we would be part of. We marveled at how different it was from the mild green hills we'd farmed in New Zealand.

Our first thoughts, when we realized we were going to live in central Oregon, were that we'd be among those tall ponderosa pines, like they have up in Camp Sherman. When we pulled into Long Hollow and saw the rocks and juniper there were a few moments of surprise at the starkness of the landscape. But getting familiar with it from the backs of our faithful dude string horses, and because of the cattle, brought about a change of heart that still sits deep within. There is a stillness out there, punctuated by the trill of a meadowlark and the ceaseless flow of the creek. Yes, the rocks are a drag, but how much more we appreciate the oases of sand that appear every now and again. It's not very green but there is beauty in brown and tan. There are remnants of stone walls built by pioneers made of much sterner stuff than we will ever be. Those walls are reminders that others too  started new lives with the grassland as a classroom.

The landscape out there is a reminder that soft and mild, while soothing, are not necessary for life to persist. Plus, all those rocks and the possibility of snakes keep the crowds away, which is really why we go there.

A Matter of Perspective

They say its (whatever "it" is) a matter of perspective. Some argue that that's relegating things to relativity, blah, blah. Life is black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. In constant turmoil.

On some levels this is very true. Lines are drawn in the universe that God has said, "Don't cross." I get that. And I'm pretty good at staying on my side.

On other levels, it is ALL about perspective. On a day like this, it doesn't matter if I'm looking at a cow

or a mountain,

it just looks better between the ears of my horse.

It's a matter of perspective.

Good Therapy

I went on a therapy hike today. Therapy because I'm feeling the loss of Ben. No, he didn't die but he isn't part of our family any more.

Ben 

 We (I) made the difficult choice to send him back to his previous owners in order for Max to stay with us. You know, when it comes down to it, family really does trump all other things. Max belonged to our son and his sweet family, and they relocated to Virginia. So Max is now a ranch dog. A job he does very well.

Rin-Tin Max

But, as a confirmed animal lover and one who bonds strongly with my animals, it was not an easy choice. I keep seeing Ben's intense amber eyes, focused on me as if they could see right into my heart. It was a sight that kept me in tears most of yesterday.

So today my dear friend Becky and I took our dogs, Sadie and Max, and my mom's poodle, Henry,
on a hike to Alder Springs.

Henry, ready for adventure. If only he knew what was in store for the day.

Becky and Sadie, true adventurers

It's way to heck and gone on the Crooked River National Grassland, along a bumpy road. So when we got to the trailhead and it said the springs were only a mile hike I was a bit disappointed. Seemed like we should get more bang for our buck for bouncing along that road.

Well, we did. We did a wee detour to the 'Old Bridge Site' and since I knew the area from a while ago, we went down to Wychus Creek to explore along it for a while.

"Let your roots go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love." We can learn from this tree - there was no soil in sight but still it grows.

Alder Springs at last!

Nearly two miles later, after scrambling around large outcroppings, through brush and an area that got burned in a forest fire last fall, we arrived at Alder Springs. I can't say we took the scenic route, because there's nothing scenic about an area that's slowly regenerating from a hot fire, but we sure  filled the day with adventure.

 We got to the point where we weren't going to turn back because we knew the springs were 'just around the next bend.' We said that many times before we arrived at our destination.

There's a lot to be said for not taking the easy way, especially when you have a good friend and good dogs for company. It helps that you'll know when you've arrived.

And seeing the bluebird of happiness is validation for the journey.

Cha-cha-cha-changes...

One of our favorite sayings is that a change is as good as a holiday (or vacation, if you don't speak Anglo.) I know I haven't been posting very much, but that may change. May not, but that sentence went with the theme of this post.

What I have done is make some changes to my office. Not earth shattering but kind of a holiday for the mind. Maybe with the re-arrangement my creative flow will return and I'll feel like writing again. Even when I know on every level that 'feeling' like it shouldn't even enter the equation. But then, I never was very good at math.

This is what the space looked like before the makeover. I actually got the idea to change things from watching the t.v. at the gym - a dual purpose workout!

 So here's the new look. Hope you'll come visit and we can holiday together!

It's in the little things

I know that the best part of Christmas is sharing it with the people and pets I love the most. But it seems that I don't get that Christmas groove until I've spent some time alone with my thoughts and favorite Christmas music.

Today was the day. Goddy headed off into the sunshine for a round of golf and I had a list of to-dos to get the house and cookie jar ready for a wonderful heap of people.

I don't do a lot of lavish decorating, even though I love looking at other people's efforts. For me there are a few special pieces, usually embellished with some tartan ribbon, that change our home from everyday  to Christmas eclectic.

Go All Blacks!

A few days ago I was getting a bit concerned that I didn't feel the Christmas spirit. You know, that warm fuzzy feeling that goes along with a secret belief in Santa and a grateful heart. I believe that we celebrate our Savior's birth in this season. I also believe that the other aspects of the holiday season have their place. Well, except for Black Friday. That could go away, along with Wal-Mart but I digress.

By the end of today there will be a batch of shortbread cooling on the racks, the sideboard is festive in silver and red, my office is ready for a guest and the menus will be planned. It is not the end of the day as I'm writing this so I'm doing that self-help trick of if-you-say-it-it-will-happen.

In the meantime, I'm going to have a cup of tea, enjoy a sneaky read of my sappy Christmas novel and marvel that it's mid-afternoon on a December day and both doors of the house are open to the fresh air and sunshine.

May you too get your fill of Christmas in all the ways that mean the most.

Going Back

They say you can't go back; back to where, I wonder? Last week when I was shelving books, and other things at the library, I came across an old Linda Ronstadt CD - "Cry Like the Rain, Howl Like the Wind." I checked it out and started listening to it on the 5-minute drive between the library and my house.

The opening bars of the first song - you guessed it - took me right back. Back to our house at Rissington, on one of the farms we managed in New Zealand. I had the album on cassette tape (probably recorded from a CD I'd checked out of the Napier library.) We didn't have any close neighbors, so I could put the stereo speakers in the window and let Linda belt out her tunes while I gardened or if we had a barbeque. Or I'd put it into the kitchen boom-box and dance around while dinner was cooking.

I had no idea that any one else in the family remembered that album. Ty, I'm sure, would roll his eyes and sigh that I'm reliving his childhood and I should just embrace my middle age. Logan would probably just grunt. Evan immediately started warbling one of the songs. But then, he and I spent a few years stealing Garth Brooks CDs from each other and listened to Celine Dion on our trip across America, so it figures he'd remember Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville singing "Don't Know Much."

There is some truth to not going back. Now when I hear those songs that sent me pirouetting around the kitchen I hum along. I seem to be saving my dancing for when Rowan and Katie visit and we boogie after bath time.

But a little trip down memory lane is sweet all the same.

Another View

I enjoyed a birthday last week, and requested a day of hiking with my good friend, Becky. We've tromped around in a few places together, here and in New Zealand. We can never seem to get out there often enough to suit either of us, so it wasn't too difficult to make it happen for the birthday girl!

Becky came up with a few suggestions and I chose to explore the waterfalls along Wychus Creek, just out of Sisters. I keep hearing about all these amazing places just out our back door and am embarrassed to admit to not venturing to many of them, yet.

The lower falls. Worth the scramble down to get this view!

Becky and the dogs. I think Ben will be sporting packs soon. Might slow him down some.

We took our faithful hounds, Ben and Sadie, a lunch and our cameras. I took my field notebook too, since I learned at my writers retreat that carrying a notebook and pen is a much better bet than depending on a memory when it comes to creating a literary moment.

Middle falls

It was a hike to remember, full of good fellowship, deep thoughts, long silences and gob-smacking scenery. Becky kept the view of the upper falls a secret and I'm not going to forget the feeling of coming around a corner and looking up, and up some more, to the top of the cascade. A wall of shale rock blended into a hillside of the same. We climbed partway up to see if the view was any better from there - it wasn't - and realized that there's something to be said for looking up rather than across.

Upper falls

Not quite Rin Tin Tin...

Hard to imagine the force of water that makes a scene like this.

I'd wondered about these waterfalls for many years and now that my curiosity is satisfied I want to become better acquainted with them. Lets hope its more than a once-a-year occurrence!

Thank you, Becky, for a great day out.