"This totally exceeded my expectations."

Since long before moving to the dazzling state of Oregon, Crater Lake's visage was known to us. Images, both those faithfully enhanced and those driven to HDR insanity (an art form I enjoy, but set separate from true-to-life capture) set very high expectations.

After waiting 20 minutes in a line at the park gatehouse to fork over our $10, we had about ten more miles to rid ourselves of expectations before coming to the edge of the Rim Road. We caught the second pull off, and...

It's stunning. Amazing. In scale, beauty and... diversity. Azure water unlike I've seen! Rimmed by trees, slides, cliffs, patches of snow... in August! A gut-punch of ravishing beauty that drives one to tears. Well, me, anyway, but I tend to overflow with the joy of life fairly often and easily.

Each pull-off gave you a different view, and it never got old, for each angle showed something not seen yet.

We had a late lunch at the lodge, which is gorgeous and relaxing, well updated and maintained. The day was leisurely, for we'd no plans other than do the Rim Road and find our way home sometime before midnight. We were there just after noon, which is unfortunately the worst light of the day for landscape photography; high and harsh, it hits at a perpendicular angle and leaves out the amazing depth that light coming across the landscape parallel creates; high noon rays also enhanced the haze that kept the distant ridge of the crater from being sharp. Morning or afternoon light would have been in order if the primary goal of this trip had been a great photograph. But my goal to work the CCD was tempered by adventuring, relaxing... and sleeping in.

It's really summer in Oregon!

Today was a gorgeous day; temps in the mid 70's, clear blue sky, soft breeze. Vowing to leave our worries behind and NOT work this weekend, we crammed a slew of Oregon favorites into today.

After sleeping in until 8:15 (a rare treat) we started the day in the hot tub, then ran out to EZ Orchards for their strawberry donuts. Splitting a half dozen and slamming down some milk behind them, we hit the road and did our tour of farmer's markets.

• Independence - we picked up beef from Setniker Farms; we've been enjoying their products for a while. Local, antibiotic and hormone free, and they are not sent to feed lots for finishing, from what I understand on their web site. The product is TASTY! The prices are very reasonable. And, we couldn't say no to a half flat of amazingly sweet strawberries. 
• Albany - we walked around and the only thing we purchased was a succulent for a little pot we have that needs filled. 
• Corvallis - this is our favorite. The vibe here is just awesome. We love to peruse this market and just soak up the people, the riverfront, the wonderful vendors. 
• Hazelnut Hill - while not a farmer's market, this little nut farm and candy purveyor is awesome. They have friends in California that provide them with Champagne walnuts, an amazingly light and sweet nut that is a favorite of mine (walnuts are often bitter, as in black walnuts, and I hate those). We bought two 2lb bags, which will see us through the year's baking (and they keep wonderfully in the freezer and fridge). 
• Eugene - it's over the top hippie heaven in Eugene, and the Saturday Market is chock full of wonderful smells from the food booths, wonderful art and handicraft, a huge array of home made, baked and grown eats... and the people watching is unbeatable. We rounded out our purchases with some sourdough bread. Watched cute hippies hula hoop, and soaked up the vibrations from the drum circle for a bit. I went to the same jewelrymaker from whom I bought the trinity ring I used to wear religiously and bought a replacement. I lost it back in April when I did the SOLV Beach Cleanup. It had been getting very loose, and I'd taken to wearing it on my thumb. I deduced that when I stripped off the rubber gloves to throw them into the bag as we finished, the ring went with them. I noticed it was gone shortly afterward, but we'd already dropped off the bags of trash! It feels so good to have one back on my thumb! 

Scot had somehow run across Camp Putt mini golf and the Roaring Rapids Pizza right next door online. We headed there for some afternoon fun, and it was a little nostalgic -- mini golf was one of our first dates, and in fact I still have the red golf ball he used during that round. Yes, I stole it.  :) It's an antique now! It sits in a little curio cabinet on the wall in the hallway. He had promised he would decimate me on the course... but he only beat me by two. We were both waaaaaay over par, but come on... two strokes? I don't call that a decimation! 

Before we hit the course we enjoyed lunch out on the edge of the river, soaking up some vitamin D. Not a bad pie, by west coast standards. 

We meandered our way home, stopping in Corvallis again to grocery shop. Once home, I set out put our flat of berries to good use, first making a strawberry pie, then cutting up some for a compote for tomorrow morning's waffles. The rest went into the freezer. 

As dusk started to settle we built a fire in the pit, and roasted hot dogs we'd gotten a bit ago from Otto's Sausage Kitchen in Portland. For dessert it was s'mores made with some fresh made marshmallows from Marché Provisions in Eugene. OMG SO GOOD. 

The evening was complete with shooting stars overhead. 

The evening wasn't perfect, however. As I'm in the camper out back in the late evening digging around looking for our hot dog roasting forks, I hear an odd heavy snap, a thud, and Scot moans. I poke my head out of the camper and see that one of the 4x4s we sunk three years ago for the hammocks had broken. Of course he was IN the hammock when it happened so it comes forward as he finds himself on the ground and thumps him in the shoulder. Could have been SO much worse though -- could have hit him in the head! 

Kites, air and water.

[This post mysteriously disappeared; luckily, Google had already cached it so I was able to recreate!]


As a kid, I loved kites, but didn't get much wind time. As an adult I thought kites were for kids. Moving to the Pacific Northwest, however, I learned that BIG kites are for BIG KIDS!

For the last few years, Scot and I have gone to kite festivals and watched amazing creations of fabric and design fly high. Blessed we are to have such greats like Gomberg nearby! (One year for Scot's birthday I called them to order the line laundry pandas; I talked to David himself! He was out of stock, but assured me he'd whip me up a set and get them out in time for the big day. I felt like a superstar!)

We've amassed a collection of kites, getting a little bigger each year. Last year's purchase was a medium sized sport multi line foil, an HQ Symphony 2.1. Not a powerkite, really, but more kite than most people ever fly for sure. (See the lovely Symphone line at HQ!) My first fly of it was in a stiff wind while visiting the International Kite Festival in Long Beach, WA. It was a thrill to realize this kitehad more than enough pull to stand me up from a seated position. It's flown with two wrist straps, and later on at a kite shop in Lincoln City the gentleman behind the counter heard me talking excitedly about it. Scot purchased something and for some reason, the owner handed me two padded wrist straps and said, "Yours. Free. You'll need them. That won't be your last kite."

We were considering a Peter Lynn show kite as the next step up, or a LARGE lifter.

Then, something happened. One of those events that connects the dots and... sets you down a path. A few months ago, a friend and I headed to the coast to help with the SOLV beach cleanup, and I brought along some kites to play with after the work was done. We sent up my orange Giant Ghost Delta with some line laundry (after once again shelving the lifter because of its wind pickyness); then I pulled out the Symphony.

What a blast that was. The fun lasted for quite a long time, until after one too many slams on the leading edge caused us to blow a seam! Despite the kite injury, we left the beach hours later with me happy as a clam because someone actually went kiting with me and had fun, and I could see he was stoked from the wind play as well.

Here's where it all comes together. We headed to the Pelican Pub in Lincoln City for dinner. We wait for a bit as they are busy, and then are shown the perfect table, the booth that's right in the center of their windows on the beach. Wouldn't you know, there's a guy riding the waves out there, but not a surfer. He's kitesurfing. We have the perfect view of him playing in the waves in front of us. I wistfully watched, thinking back to an afternoon I'd watched a guy with a big ass kite and a harness bouncing down the beach at Seaside, taking large, lofty, wind-lifted steps with the occasional long distance float thanks to his kite. Then I'd watched him with wistful want, and the same feeling washed over me again. As I'm deep in that mindset I hear...

"We should do that."

(That's one of the things I appreciate about this person; he'll make statements such as this, or "That needs to happen," and approach something from an angle totally different from mine. I'm all impetuous, impulsive and adventurous when it comes to humor, love, food, sex or fiscal matters, but suggest something even mildly athletic with a physical risk or challenge and I'm all like, "Let's catalogue the reasons that this isn't a good idea." We all have a good idea where that one came from.)

And doing it I am. We bought a trainerkite and have chased the wind a few times a week since. We've had great afternoons in a field or on the beach with a stiff 15, and stood out in the middle of fields trying to coax enough out of a 3 to keep the HQ Hydra 350 in the air... standing there like disappointed children with long faces when we can't. (But even on those afternoons we get enough to get a little flight in.)


(Amusingly, the image to the left is clearly not a "real" image. Anyone see why?)
There's something amazingly cool to stand just beyond the reach of the lines and see a big, filled arc of a kite hiss by, or standing at the bar and hear it cut through the wind, giving a pull to one side and seeing and feeling the kite turn. He's more into jumps and getting air, and I'm still trying to just keep my face out of the dirt with a dream of someday partnering my love of wind and water together for simple movement... I'll ponder tricks later. (Many great face plants I've done, thanks to a general lack of physical grace, a poor understanding of basics physics, and delayed reaction to kite pull; instead of dropping my butt to counter balance, I let it get the best of me and have a tendency to let go waaaay too late when its clear things are going south. (Hey, that tenacity comes in handy in other areas!) There's actually video of one that resulted in a huge bruise on my pelvis as beach sand is much harder than it looks, but thankfully that hasn't hit the airwaves. Yet.)

This path has a long laundry list of things to do; my next step is hooking the kiteup to a harness (already obtained this one) which will help distribute the weight to a lower center of gravity (fewer faceplants). I'm signing up to attend a wakeboard camp early this summer to get the hang of moving a board on water. Then will be some kiteboard training up in the Gorge and then... the purchase of my first big kite. Hopes to move through all this during the summer... that's going to be a challenge.

And in between, trying to lose as much weight as possible and improve upper body strength and stamina because I'm going to need it. And make sure the health insurance coverage stays in place. 

I heart Oregon. Yep, spring is here.

Spring energy is in the air. Saturday was a blur of chores: cleaned/straightened bunnies' area, straightened the studio, vacuumed dog out of the VW, did the same with the truck, cut down the bamboo, pulled out a dead tree, cleaned up the back yard (two dogs, ya know), mowed, dismantled the old potting bench, threw it all into the back of the truck and took it to the dumpter, then got three new trees from Home Depot, and applied Weed and Feed. We finished off the evening by running Marissa's legs off in the back yard and then enjoying the yard from the vantage point of the hot tub.

Our reward today was setting up some Orchard Mason Bees at the homes of a few friends, then meeting up with Ivan and Rhonda for a drive down the Gorge, across Bridge of the Gods and a stop at Walking Man Brewery in Stevenson, WA. Great beer, yummy pizza, and a unique bathroom: the faucets are a nifty mix of pipes, and the temperature and pressure gages work. And that's just the beginning of the unique creative touches in the bathrooms there. The dark clouds mixed with breaks of sunbeams made the dark greens of the trees and the sparkles off the water of the Columbia all the more brilliant.

Damn, I love Oregon!

Can't decide!

I'm headed to the coast this weekend to do a "makeup" for my certification dives. The ear infection has cleared up, and I'm going full bore with every sinus medication I have in my arsenal from now until then in hopes of avoiding equalization problems. Wish me luck!

It's either this or certify down in Cozumel, but when I discussed the option with my teacher at Salem Scuba, it was clear that was the least desirable, because it would be crammed in between a bunch of other things. I don't want to push it that far. The dives are in Netarts (yeah, my first open water dives in Netarts, the next in Cozumel... hmmm...); now usually I would have headed up to Hoodsport and had to pay for lodging, etc. so instead of driving over each day, I'm trying to choose some place to stay.

You'd think this would be easy. One night, by myself, on the coast. But I can't choose! I'm finding some really cute places!!

First, there is bed and breakfast with poster framed bed draped with fabric (and bathroom has heated tile floors) for $140. Then there's a little restored vintage hotel (cute room, king bed) in a teeny fishing village for $90. A variety of other old moldy oceanfront motels have been eliminated, as have the chains of the world. There are a few great rental houses, but they are just too big.  

Who am I kidding, the draped bed (and large soaking tub) is the winner.

No, we won't get arrested for picking blackberries in a state park.

Monday I made my mother-in-law pay for her keep (she'd been visiting us since last Tuesday). The day started with blackberry picking. We'd discussed going to pick blackberries earlier in the week, and that morning she kept looking at me sideways and asking, tentatively, just what we were going to do that morning. Finally, she said, "Won't we... get in trouble?" She thought I was planning a covert operation to illegally abscond with someone's fruit. No, we explained, one of the joys of Oregon is that its bounty is often free for the taking from public lands, or even those owned by individuals who have given permission to harvest from it.

The three of us picked ten pounds of berries in almost no time, thanks to Oregon's bounty of wild blackberries. We weren't even trying, but rather just picking the low hanging fruit, so to speak.

Little did I know she's eat most of our profit. :-) It was a bona-fide case of Berry Madness, a long-held affliction as explained by her sharing of stories from her days as a kid on the farm when she'd eaten so many strawberries she'd repeatedly broken out in hives and rashes (and scratched herself so much she scarred). When our big bucket was full and Scot called for the hands to leave the field, she threw herself back into the vines, two-fisting berries into her mouth like a starving person just introduced to the buffet. Every two steps back to the car one of us would spy a berry that just begged to be picked, so the return to the vehicle was slow going, indeed.

(Put her together with my Dad, and you'd have the most inefficient farm crew ever. But they'd both have their weekly allowance of fruit consumption packed into that afternoon, I'll tell you.)



The above pic is just a start.

Once home we canned jam. And jelly. And something halfway in between. Also two batches of freezer jam. I love the bright, lustrous texture and light of a good freezer jam--great as a soft spread, or a ice cream topping, or over a pound cake or... eaten with a spoon. Okay, maybe even just sucked off a finger.

The standard recommendations for sugar to fruit ratios in popular recipes amaze me -- it's crazy. No wonder we're a nation of diabetics. I always cut the sugar in half, if not further, for otherwise all you end up with is colored sugar and it's totally overpowering to what is otherwise amazingly wonderful fruit.

We also froze some de-seeded juice (we were all sore from our turns at the Foley Mill). Also preserved enough individual berries for a few pies.

The berries call me back for more, but, really... do I need more?

It's almost time to can the first batch of tomato soup. This year I'm also doing a marinara sauce, a hot pepper jelly, some plum sauce, salsa and...

Okay, so I do not need to go back for another batch of blackberries.

But maybe I will anyway.

Won't you be my neighbor? Wait, you already are!

Last night was National Night Out, an initiative by National Association of Town Watch aimed at getting neighborhoods together. Since the days of the welcome wagon are long past, in our ever-more-connected lives we often know the least about those who are closest to us. Even we are guilty -- and we greatly value friendship, connection, and place!

In 2005, the event was right after we moved in, and our neighbors Paul and Ester held the event. There hasn't been one since (at least not one that we've been invited to) so I'm giving a bit shout out to Jennifer for planning this one, and to Carole for assisting.

We met some very nice people, reconnected with some we haven't seen in a while, shared some big laughs, and were invited to harvest all we wanted from one neighbor's apple trees as she's sauced out. I'm taking her up on that one! We learned some great neighborhood history, such as why there is a private pool club in our neighborhood. Years ago, some families worked together to purchase a lot that was beside them, and put in a pool. They have a private club of 27 families max that pay dues toward the upkeep of the pool and have access. I'm assuming most of the families are from the Englewood area, but perhaps further. Stories of do-it-yourself cooperation like that always make me smile.

I was surprised, however, at how many people didn't attend. That made me sad. I've always been curious about our neighbors across the street. From quick peeks through the curtains from the sidewalk they have some great personality going on inside the home, but you wouldn't know it from them because in four years they haven't so much as returned a wave or a smile. And it's not just us... everyone in the neighborhood has tried and they just snub everyone. Bizarre.

Oregon's liquid sunshine.

Last week was HOT, an affliction that was eased out of the way mid-week by bona-fide thunderstorms. Friday morning, I got a quote on an AC unit, promptly took a spill on the steps, and called out of work the rest of the day.

We had standing plans to go camping. After Scot got off work, we headed over to the coast to camp with friends. On the way we stopped at Pronto Pup in Otis, just six miles short of Lincoln City.

SERIOUSLY? It took me FOUR YEARS to stop at a place that makes the best freakin' corndogs EVER? What is wrong with me!? (I didn't take any pics, so I found the pic of the sign over at Royal Order of the Corndog.)

We stayed at Devil's Lake State Park, a nice patch of land that is right off the road and surrounded by development. It's a bit odd, as I'm used to parks that are a bit away from it all. 30% chance of showers doesn't mean your 100% rain feels any less wet. Regardless, it was fun, as in our cozy two site group at Devil's Lake State Park we has plenty of cover, plenty of firewood, and plenty of dutch oven made enchillada casserole. Saturday we discovered that Gomberg Kites has a seasonal store open at the outlet mall in Lincoln City, which meant we got to see in the flesh the Giant Ghost Delta I was planning to acquire before the big kite festival at the end of the summer.

Saturday night we watched Halie Loren perform at Eden Hall, just south of Salishan. It's a great little place for gigs, and word has it the eatery next door, Side Door Cafe, is top notch. All I know is the chocolates served at the bar by Fox Chocolates were very good, with unque, powerful passionfruit filling.

Thunder!

While chillaxing at the dining room table with a friend last night, the wind suddenly kicked up, the sky took on a dark cast. Shortly after I pleaded for some real thunder... we had one moderate rumble of thunder! The first real thunder I've heard in Oregon in the nearly four years we've been here. (If you can't tell if it was thunder or a truck going down the street, it doesn't count.)

There are some things I miss about the midwest. Growing up there certainly gave me my chops in relation to inclement weather. Spring thunderstorms would rattle the house for hours--with lightning striking the fields all around the house, winds that would rip limbs from trees and push everything from your lawn into your neighbor's (repeat on down the line). Not to mention the watchful eye always kept torward the cast of the sky. When the greenish-yellow hue permated, you watched the sky for funnel clouds.

Once while having a family reunion in Sullivan, Indiana, a tornado went through the same city park where we were gathered.

You get used to it.

While I'm glad to live in an area free of flood, hurricane, tornado or tsunami, I do miss the thunderstorms.

But even I'd still be scared if I saw this:

Check out FloridaLightning.com for some awesome severe weather photography. (I just happened upon the site while looking for thunderstorm pics.)

Time away and time to play.

Winston in camp chair
Originally uploaded by lavachickie

An excellent weekend, camping at Sunset Bay. While the place was packed, we enjoyed a relatively quiet time in the tent area. I was grousing about the noise of the party next door to us, until Scot pointed out I was being a cranky old bitch, and reminded me of times not-so-long-past when we did way worse when camping.

Point taken. It's easy to get old without really noticing, he warned me.

The dogs hung out, got bored, were tired of sleeping in the cab of the truck. We took our sweet time driving up the coast, checking out various campgrounds along the way, stopping at waysides and really taking any excuse to stop. Which explains why it took us seven hours to get home. Before leaving Coos Bay we made two interesting finds: Bay Burger Inn and Cranberry Sweets Company.

Upon returning, we realized we are "on" too much, and that we have to go to extremes -- like drive to a state park four hours away -- before we really unplug and relax. So upon our return, we left the laptops locked in the safe. That meant we couldn't work -- on our day jobs or the plethora of side gigs we carry. We couldn't get online to check one little thing, only to get sucked into anywhere from 30 minutes to 12 hours of random online things. No email. No emergencies. No Twitter. No Facebook. No headlines. No political alerts. None of it!

And it was glorious. A day spent writing, relaxing, playing with dogs, primping the plants in the garden, etc.

Wow. Unplugging is something we need to develop the discipline to do -- here at home.

J. Bella's Ristaurante in Independence

Here are some pics from the lunch we had last week which was pretty darn good. (See previous post for a review/details.)


Hidden in this image is the plethora of dried fruit bits found in this salad. The size would have made it a good lunch entree itself, and was a perfect starter split between two people.

We scored w/ The Bread Board

Yesterday we high-tailed it over to Independence early to make sure we got to the guys of The Bread Board before they ran out. Scot chose an apple cranberry ciabatta. So far it has excelled as a breakfast bread (melted butter and a little cinnimon sprinkle) and also as a refined afternoon snack with some slices of brie on top and a moment or two under the broiler.

YUM!

Wander Oregon.

Yesterday we awoke with ants in our pants, a mild form of wanderlust, probably with a hint of cabin fever mixed in. We went wandering. We had one firm goal: lunch at Toki Teriyaki, one of our favorite places. It happens to be in Albany, so we headed down that way, and followed untraveled roads, detoured to follow interesting signs that led to nowhere, enjoyed looking at far stretching meadows full of grazing sheep, chasing sunbeams, and constantly taking off our sunglasses and switching on the windshield wipers, or vice versa.

Ah, Oregon and the beautiful Willamette Valley!

We found ourselves in Lebanon, Oregon. From what I heard, they pronounce it "LEB-e-nen." Growing up in Indiana, full of French names that are butchered, I never know how things are going to be localized. In the midwest, this is "LEB-nin."

It was larger than we anticipated; we wondered about where the funds for signifigant recent growth had come, what is the seat of it's industry, and also how that industry was faring in this economy. I know it has the unsavory distinction as having been home to one of the last drive-in theaters in Oregon until it was torn down to make a Super Wal-Mart, the first of its kind in Oregon.

It has an amazingly varied and apparently thriving downtown local business district. There was little empty storefront space available, and shops of all varities were open and doing business. For the small population there were also a good variety of eateries of different sorts. Of course there is also a busy stip of the usual suspects (out here it seems to be Oil Can Henry's and Safeway with a cast of supporting characters such as McDonalds, etc.).

We found a gem just off the main drag. It was easy to spot thanks to its bold purple facade. Victorian Chocolate Company is a time machine back to old fashioned candy making goodness. There are no bulk gummy bears and other crap here; it's all good old fashioned hand made candy--and you get to sample from the "leakers," which is a form of recycling in and of its own! The owners were behind the counter and happy to share and chat.

Kelly Reetz has been making candy as he was taught by an old master for over 20 years. His display case is an old timer refirb, and a discerning eye could see vintage memorabelia such as old candy boxes on the walls, too. He does carry some sugar free items which he does not make in house, but rather gets from another PNW confectioner. He was immediately up front about this, and seemed a little sheepish about it. We were in on Valentine's Day after they had been doing a brisk business, but the shelves were well stocked save for some runs on items like divinity... which I'll be going back for!

We sampled a dark chocolate orange cream from the beautiful tray of leakers. (I actually LIKE leakers... for I hate not knowing what I'm biting into!)

This fat girl and her diabetic side kick could not abstain: we got a small sampler box. Scot dove into the rum rasberry truffle that very same night, however, and declared it... *gasp*... perhaps even better than the chocolates of his youth from Oliver's Candies in Batavia, New York.

That is saying a lot.

I was happy to learn they had a history in the art and in the area. He had bought out a Portland chocolatier in the 80's, and they had been doing wholesale from that same general location since then. It's only been a few years since they opened their own retail outlet. They seemed to be doing well, and I know we're going to do our part to keep pitching in to help!