tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77217562585462337762024-03-13T08:36:27.045-07:00The Hot Flash HomesteadMusings, rantings, and dispatches from a rural homestead in the hills of the Willamette Valley, Oregon. Hot flashes included.HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.comBlogger908125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-69078689381628247972021-09-09T10:30:00.000-07:002021-09-09T10:30:16.952-07:00Sand Mandalas<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Vs0zkYXpi8/YTpAOyVVH5I/AAAAAAAAF70/AJiyRJ5MFlUNhiZPQYU_ACwGXnpnw0-7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s830/Sand%2BMandala%2B1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="830" height="188" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Vs0zkYXpi8/YTpAOyVVH5I/AAAAAAAAF70/AJiyRJ5MFlUNhiZPQYU_ACwGXnpnw0-7ACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h188/Sand%2BMandala%2B1.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Well, it's been a slow close on a very long summer which only seems to be halted by the spectre of COVID shutting everything down once again. In a familiar repeat of 2020, people are gradually retreating from the big summer concerts and county fairs in favor of smaller gatherings and dinners with family. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The temperatures have stayed in the 80's to low 90's for months, and if the traffic was worse and the drivers 596% more insane, I'd swear I was still in California. It's hot, it's dry, and when the wind comes off the desert of Eastern Oregon the smell makes you want to hum "Hotel California."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There have been other years here in Oregon when we've had a fire in the fireplace by this time, but 2021 is officially The Year of The Air Conditioner, and we need cooling much more than heating at this point.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">We have a few trees starting to turn color, stubborn specimens who insist the old ways are really better, which includes autumn starting in September. I'm with them; more and more as I grow older I realize I liked things the way they were "before," whenever "before" happened to be. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Of course nostalgia always wears blinders. I miss the restaurants I frequented in my 20's, as well as the pencil skirts and shoulder pads I used to wear when dining out. I miss baseball games where the only music was the organ, played by some kind, old lady from the valley who couldn't play Sunday afternoon games because she was also the organist at her church. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I miss a world where we all loved science and Saturday Night Live, and when Hostess Fruit pies (the real pies, not what you get today) had a lard-flavored crust which always left a grease stain on the napkin if you left it there too long.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There are things I don't miss though, and if we've had to give up a few things for the sake of progress, I'm OK with that. Imagine, if you will, a world without cell phones, voicemail or email. Or where you needed your husband's signature and permission to have a credit card of your own.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I'll take this century over the last one, thanks.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Like ex-lovers and husbands though, you can miss a few minor things while not missing other more important parts at all. That goes for eras and epochs as well as men. Ambivalence rules all the days anyway, after about age 50 or so. Do we love or hate something? Often at my current age, it feels like a little of both.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I've recently learned to understand the meaning of sand mandalas because of this. You know, those intricate sand "paintings" Buddhist monks create using tiny straws with colored sand in them? They make them, then display them for everyone to admire for a few days, then almost violently sweep them away one morning and move on to a new place and a new mandala.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NX8ogG2x4Uk/YTpDs0kTGAI/AAAAAAAAF8U/8ieyUOMmG1gUOtzrthyaUp9wABD7WcROgCLcBGAsYHQ/s784/Sand%2BMandala2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="784" height="283" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NX8ogG2x4Uk/YTpDs0kTGAI/AAAAAAAAF8U/8ieyUOMmG1gUOtzrthyaUp9wABD7WcROgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h283/Sand%2BMandala2.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ix4B8WVFwnk/YTpAaCWF3wI/AAAAAAAAF74/dLuTHUPAYsE0vLmIhZk50j1bbSfq5rc0gCLcBGAsYHQ/s783/Sand%2BMandala%2B4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="783" height="221" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ix4B8WVFwnk/YTpAaCWF3wI/AAAAAAAAF74/dLuTHUPAYsE0vLmIhZk50j1bbSfq5rc0gCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h221/Sand%2BMandala%2B4.png" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> I understand them now because sometimes it seems like my entire life is one big sand mandala. At times it's</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> hard to not feel like all my best efforts in parenting, gardening or housework go from works of art into colored piles of grit in very short order. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>Larger questions loom even larger, as they always do. How did the internet go from a library that could make everyone smarter to instead being a trove of cat videos, porn, and scientific misinformation? How is it that I think I'm probably smarter than about three-quarters of the politicians directing the course of the planet? </span>Why can't I keep my kitchen floor clean for more than a half-hour some days? None of it makes any sense. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Maybe this is what the buddhists are talking about when they say in order to have peace you must first let go of outcomes.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Each few days the sand mandala needs to be rebuilt, everyone knowing it will get swept away once it's complete and "perfect." At home, each day the floor will be cleaned only to have something new spilled on it (today it was watermelon juice).</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">These days I'm more and more into letting go of outcomes. I can't fix climate change on my own. I can't make people more science-literate. I can't even keep the watermelon juice off a clean floor. But I can learn to be happy in spite of all those things, because destruction and renewal are both part of life, repeating itself over and over. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3fN9GU6OK-s/YTpA1TQvGZI/AAAAAAAAF8E/EK3N0S4xty0__m7cVBp27TdiPpjPqyXuwCLcBGAsYHQ/s825/Sand%2BMandala%2B3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="825" height="246" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3fN9GU6OK-s/YTpA1TQvGZI/AAAAAAAAF8E/EK3N0S4xty0__m7cVBp27TdiPpjPqyXuwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h246/Sand%2BMandala%2B3.png" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />I guess the moral of this story is to enjoy today, because tomorrow the monks and their brooms are coming to sweep it all away and start something new. So go ahead: watch more Netflix, take more walks and don't mop the floor expecting it to stay clean.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">That's the advice I'm giving to myself right now.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-69503485790608120672021-08-13T15:37:00.000-07:002021-08-13T15:37:13.848-07:00Let it snow<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g51_TZBX8b8/YRa281oIROI/AAAAAAAAF64/9uV40D957wYeoaI_yRCdQqnmOoOKAvdOQCLcBGAsYHQ/s496/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-08-13%2Bat%2B10.58.20%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="496" height="312" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g51_TZBX8b8/YRa281oIROI/AAAAAAAAF64/9uV40D957wYeoaI_yRCdQqnmOoOKAvdOQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-08-13%2Bat%2B10.58.20%2BAM.png" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">You know, it's around this time of year that I start singing my favorite Christmas song, "Let It Snow." It's the one that opens with the line, "Oh, the weather outside is frightful." (Apologies for giving you ear-worm for the rest of the day.) Old Blue-Eyes had no idea the song would work not just in winter, but also in these long, drawn-out end-of-summer days, which is where we find ourselves right now. It's frightful out there, no?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">And let's not even talk about the next line regarding how delightful the fire is. The fires are <i>not</i> delightful. But you know what is? The fact that autumn is on its way!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSVMGHVLPfs/YRazd6645VI/AAAAAAAAF5k/KpLT6ScWzxItyv7EjKz_ogItqPc1A2yTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/B0BA9CBC-9370-4456-97C9-4B4E07FDEE90.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSVMGHVLPfs/YRazd6645VI/AAAAAAAAF5k/KpLT6ScWzxItyv7EjKz_ogItqPc1A2yTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/B0BA9CBC-9370-4456-97C9-4B4E07FDEE90.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Late summer gives way to...</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f51N-ghKBXk/YRaz7XAuTlI/AAAAAAAAF6A/3Mmggzhxi94AEOs7NDa-6FvOV5Er6V7FACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/4C8447DF-3AEB-42F0-82E5-4C16BF5B64D3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f51N-ghKBXk/YRaz7XAuTlI/AAAAAAAAF6A/3Mmggzhxi94AEOs7NDa-6FvOV5Er6V7FACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/4C8447DF-3AEB-42F0-82E5-4C16BF5B64D3.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Early fall.</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">In an effort to give summer the bum's rush out the door, I've been doing a little decorating for fall, even if it's a bit early. Since I don't need ANY new furniture (A fact that Big Ag points out several times a week) I've instead gotten into doing little tablescapes. And this week, autumn fell hard and fast around the interior of our home here, as we hit triple digits and the smoke rolled in outside from the fires down south. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>In the midst of it, I've also started sun-drying tomatoes, which is something I thought I'd have to give up once I left California. But with the hot weather following me, turns out I'm in possession of a good skill set for the New Normal of climate change, as are most California-born, current</span> Oregonians.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G23MC775gXA/YRa0TrepgaI/AAAAAAAAF6I/OwAAmThOvrcbcChN9HdYE_GLbKVJ6C0lACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/21280789-FB55-4659-8646-7EAC6920824D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G23MC775gXA/YRa0TrepgaI/AAAAAAAAF6I/OwAAmThOvrcbcChN9HdYE_GLbKVJ6C0lACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/21280789-FB55-4659-8646-7EAC6920824D.jpeg" width="240" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I've also been making soap, and still have a big wave of tomato canning coming, which will hit in another month or so. One thing I love about Oregon is that by the time it's cool enough to fire up the canner, the weather is cooler. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jbcDtkbrl_M/YRa01P2zz4I/AAAAAAAAF6Y/yW65h_qinHcPlZSDX2EENR43PAIKPEJ-QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/13EB44F5-DB3B-47F0-B812-4AF7E461F06E.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jbcDtkbrl_M/YRa01P2zz4I/AAAAAAAAF6Y/yW65h_qinHcPlZSDX2EENR43PAIKPEJ-QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/13EB44F5-DB3B-47F0-B812-4AF7E461F06E.jpeg" width="180" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Last year's tomatoes coated with ash, under a firey sky.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Last year I did all this in the middle of a terrible fire season, with no kitchen, and dealing with contractors coming in and out of the house in the midst of a major pandemic. So almost anything will be an improvement over that. Just like Ginger Rodgers having to dance the same dances Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels; that's me with homesteading this summer. I've done all this stuff backwards in heels and can now just move forward, doing the same thing but in a MUCH easier way. I have a kitchen, I'm vaccinated and there are no fires near us. Much better.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">We also had some bark blown in to finish our raised bed area and keep the weeds away. That's another lesson learned: save your money and pay someone else to move the 11 yards of whatever instead of breaking your own back as well as your wheelbarrow and doing it yourself. Sure you lose bragging rights, but you can also skip the post-event visit to the chiropractor.They were done in about 45 minutes and it all looks fantastic. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iEGq8ExwFR8/YRa1W45zqeI/AAAAAAAAF6k/EqirKsG-DIUypvrBjsIN4vEHgT9yO7AIACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/3CEA53F4-9B52-4C6D-B166-7186F98F9344.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iEGq8ExwFR8/YRa1W45zqeI/AAAAAAAAF6k/EqirKsG-DIUypvrBjsIN4vEHgT9yO7AIACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/3CEA53F4-9B52-4C6D-B166-7186F98F9344.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71peHyGf_RM/YRa1WtRAdSI/AAAAAAAAF6g/gupt2pr5weM7TJPL0vWDAXcAxOKANsX6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/6AF37E50-5E31-495D-A48E-68A252CCDCD3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71peHyGf_RM/YRa1WtRAdSI/AAAAAAAAF6g/gupt2pr5weM7TJPL0vWDAXcAxOKANsX6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/6AF37E50-5E31-495D-A48E-68A252CCDCD3.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uctn7hpOA-4/YRa1kUhPMdI/AAAAAAAAF6s/4-wYRFM8tf8nouyvswRRyLrGIfeTY8G9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/76244909-2E83-4086-8756-B1FEBF102D47.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uctn7hpOA-4/YRa1kUhPMdI/AAAAAAAAF6s/4-wYRFM8tf8nouyvswRRyLrGIfeTY8G9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/76244909-2E83-4086-8756-B1FEBF102D47.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Before</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PC8KIFzrydU/YRa1kGKrzBI/AAAAAAAAF6o/UllXyw0PRyMqVwER254eS84HYjpYWGpNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/01617F96-14F6-4C71-8596-08BA086C4DD6_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PC8KIFzrydU/YRa1kGKrzBI/AAAAAAAAF6o/UllXyw0PRyMqVwER254eS84HYjpYWGpNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/01617F96-14F6-4C71-8596-08BA086C4DD6_1_201_a.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">After!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I think I'll continue to add a little autumn around the house here and there until most of the decor finds it's way from their storage containers in the garage into the house. In these troubling times, if rushing the season a bit helps your mood, I'd say go for it. I'm still working on talking the trees into turning, but so far I've only convinced a couple.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Hope everyone's late summer is seasonally warm (not hot) and enjoyable. I have a feeling true autumn and winter will bring with it the Lambda COVID variant, which is vaccine-resistant, so get out and see people while you can. </span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pgO1iZjA5c/YRbw25gWjiI/AAAAAAAAF7E/s99equH_JVwCReQSUMW86_4yY3SZUYLmQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/A2DF5C3B-B45B-458C-AD02-D7BE2DB8D168_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pgO1iZjA5c/YRbw25gWjiI/AAAAAAAAF7E/s99equH_JVwCReQSUMW86_4yY3SZUYLmQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/A2DF5C3B-B45B-458C-AD02-D7BE2DB8D168_1_201_a.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This white birch tree is convinced it's autumn</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6DH3KfhD90/YRbw2qMiJ2I/AAAAAAAAF7A/XKldYMGIJ2k6zkD6OZWRneUFVs23O4i6wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/A2683532-9FD6-4FE6-A3DD-110D08B5367C_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6DH3KfhD90/YRbw2qMiJ2I/AAAAAAAAF7A/XKldYMGIJ2k6zkD6OZWRneUFVs23O4i6wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/A2683532-9FD6-4FE6-A3DD-110D08B5367C_1_201_a.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The box elder, older and wiser, knows better.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-27922717162380175632021-07-31T22:54:00.001-07:002021-07-31T22:54:57.916-07:00My Sincere Apologies<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So for the most part, I like the "new and improved" Blogger, which I've gotten the hang of (or so I thought) and use regularly. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Except for one thing: Apparently not all the comments people have made have ended up reaching the blog itself. I found a sidebar file labeled "comments" tonight and checked it out just to see what was in it. Inside I found many, many comments from readers that got held up in a limbo called "awaiting moderation," even though they were from registered users and clearly NOT spam (although to be fair, there was also quite a bit of spam that had been held up as well -- a good thing).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So what I wanted to say tonight is this: If you've commented on any posts in the past and I haven't responded or seen your comments appear on the blog, THIS is why. I feel like a bad hostess, and I will now be checking this sidebar file with regularity to ensure it doesn't happen again. I am truly grateful to anyone who reads my writings or looks at my pics and cares enough to leave a comment. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">After all, writing is nothing if there's no one to read it. And that goes for comments as well as posts! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Again, my sincere apologies. There are people I've missed hearing from. And if you are a blogger, be sure and check the "comments" sidebar on your main page, so the same thing doesn't happen to you, too! <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-81237056040886911532021-07-21T17:20:00.004-07:002021-07-21T17:33:15.753-07:00That time of year<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IWCbrDQOYQk/YPi1TGx7mTI/AAAAAAAAF1g/Lnr-83VBYwwLuKyS0vDBHHJA2otwQjyUwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/BED8BF13-1DE5-4505-A2BE-E2E00BFB6BF0.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IWCbrDQOYQk/YPi1TGx7mTI/AAAAAAAAF1g/Lnr-83VBYwwLuKyS0vDBHHJA2otwQjyUwCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/BED8BF13-1DE5-4505-A2BE-E2E00BFB6BF0.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Heat Dome.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I like summer, but can honestly say it's not my FAVORITE time of year, unlike many Oregonians. This is because 1) I don't always appreciate the heat, even if it's just for a brief time, and 2) I adore autumn, so that's in my number one slot. But summer is my <i>busiest</i> time of year, for sure. We're out working on the property first thing in the morning, and back at again in the evening, until the sun sets at about 9 pm.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-37BEhA7jrPg/YPi1sOizzDI/AAAAAAAAF1o/-3gxcZeTvaoHxvaC8AIwA-_vIwm1O-w7gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/6CADB620-0D47-4252-A962-83A31B123CCD_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-37BEhA7jrPg/YPi1sOizzDI/AAAAAAAAF1o/-3gxcZeTvaoHxvaC8AIwA-_vIwm1O-w7gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/6CADB620-0D47-4252-A962-83A31B123CCD_1_201_a.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">This is the third summer for my garden at this address, so it's the year when perennial plants really hit full steam, like when your kids turn 18 and seem to grow more lovely or handsome every day. This year it's the olallieberries that have really hit their stride. I grew these plants back in Paso Robles and I thought they did well there, getting a bit bigger than when I planted them and producing enough berries that I was able to sell a few pounds to the winery where I worked over a seven year period. What did I know? Bupkis, as my grandmother would say. My Olallieberry plants here in Oregon are three times the size of my plants in CA, and they are half their age. I have HUGE berries (larger than my thumb) here, too. By the time they're as old as my plants in Paso we'll be getting lost inside the tangle of vines and calling 911 for help to come get us out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So, a little history: Olallieberries were created right here in this part of Oregon in the 1950's, hybridized as a cross between the Blackberry and the Youngberry. After field testing them here, they were sold mostly to growers in CA, as they didn't produce well in the cool Oregon summers. But with climate change, the Willamette Valley has become an ideal place for these guys. So I guess there's an upside to everything. During the recent "heat dome" event my Oregon Marionberries wilted and died back to the ground, killing all their fruit in the process. The Olallieberries basically chuckled, shrugged their shoulders and stayed green and productive, with no plant stress at all -- even at 117 degrees. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_10_83qYpiY/YPi2DHq8JiI/AAAAAAAAF1w/EOlxK-02zYw5XVjsq6lHbaJRz9cnfdNPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/BCA85256-36CD-4DFD-83EA-74E463DA45AB.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_10_83qYpiY/YPi2DHq8JiI/AAAAAAAAF1w/EOlxK-02zYw5XVjsq6lHbaJRz9cnfdNPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/BCA85256-36CD-4DFD-83EA-74E463DA45AB.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Wine + vodka + berries + sugar = delicious!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">But what to do with all the berries? For us, they went into jam first, and then into an alcoholic berry cordial called CremƩ de Mure. I made enough to give as gifts, and enough to get us through the cold winter nights coming. CremƩ du Mure by the fire, anyone? Or over ice cream? Such possibilities!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I also am getting an over-abundance of cucumbers, which I'm turning into relish and these cucumber ice cubes, to add a little cucumber flavor into cocktails and mineral water throughout the year. Pop these into a cocktail at Christmastime and it will be like a little bit of July in a glass.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fd9rcRd6YaY/YPi3BXfux7I/AAAAAAAAF18/uYW-0lEW2aEbDrtOPgxDPQxZqMgxpFIswCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/FF538B56-72B9-4612-ADCF-9F4622FDDF56_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fd9rcRd6YaY/YPi3BXfux7I/AAAAAAAAF18/uYW-0lEW2aEbDrtOPgxDPQxZqMgxpFIswCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/FF538B56-72B9-4612-ADCF-9F4622FDDF56_1_201_a.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9s5xddkB9WE/YPi3BESGoBI/AAAAAAAAF14/qmNgsymwu7ID-3OQKv88IugbBaxNQsISgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/D61A240E-EF65-4946-9954-E484581BC29D_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9s5xddkB9WE/YPi3BESGoBI/AAAAAAAAF14/qmNgsymwu7ID-3OQKv88IugbBaxNQsISgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/D61A240E-EF65-4946-9954-E484581BC29D_1_201_a.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">But as with most over-productive years, there's a dark side to nature's abundance, too. We've been over-run by gophers and voles like never before, although the raised beds and berries are all protected with underground wire, a trick I learned in CA to keep the ground squirrels out. But the holes these critters make can injure lots of animals who step in them, like my son's dogs, one of whom pulled a muscle after tripping on a hole while running back there. For a deer, horse or other hoofed animal, an injury like this can be fatal. And for us, it could mean a trip to the emergency room and a cast for six weeks.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c-qCjKjPGqY/YPi3OsPnITI/AAAAAAAAF2A/IXw385g9P70FM5-Ot4mCOzbin3oHRuGxACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/F96A1E29-3EAF-47DC-9072-5F4CCC85EF87.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c-qCjKjPGqY/YPi3OsPnITI/AAAAAAAAF2A/IXw385g9P70FM5-Ot4mCOzbin3oHRuGxACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/F96A1E29-3EAF-47DC-9072-5F4CCC85EF87.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">But trapping is my least favorite activity on our little farm. It's obviously cruel to the animal (yet ironically, also more environmentally responsible than poison, which can cross species if a poisoned carcass is eaten). It's emotionally painful to anyone who has a heart, and it also has its own set of risks. After whacking my thumb last week on the lever of a rather large vole trap, I asked Big Ag to take a more active role in this task. And by "asked" I mean yelled, sniveled, and threw a temper tantrum with all nine of my working fingers, which he was quite forgiving about. I guess the first part about having a good farm is having a good marriage.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">And so here we are in high summer. I'd guess we've got about a couple more months to go and then the rain will start back up and the garden will die down. But for now I'm going enjoy our abundance of vegetables and fruit and savor it all. Hope you are doing the same with your summer.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NehLq8vn4bc/YPi32hNT9tI/AAAAAAAAF2M/-LzOV6kgVUEgIp2lHdUW8bFKkvSfBxQrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/1BE51F34-E2A5-4965-9A45-D9A4C889F74E_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NehLq8vn4bc/YPi32hNT9tI/AAAAAAAAF2M/-LzOV6kgVUEgIp2lHdUW8bFKkvSfBxQrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1BE51F34-E2A5-4965-9A45-D9A4C889F74E_1_201_a.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i9vhHE3HqF4/YPi322_TE7I/AAAAAAAAF2Q/Vj8IqE3UhuIqPnseIMY0AUupco4Vk9NMwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/F7CD8D6C-62CB-4B45-9DE3-980965AF3EFD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i9vhHE3HqF4/YPi322_TE7I/AAAAAAAAF2Q/Vj8IqE3UhuIqPnseIMY0AUupco4Vk9NMwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/F7CD8D6C-62CB-4B45-9DE3-980965AF3EFD.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-92049360595665449912021-06-25T10:29:00.000-07:002021-06-25T10:29:05.778-07:00Is life just too hard now?<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> So in my former career as a newspaper columnist, it was more or less my job to </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> ponder The Big Things -- you know, the things that people think about at three o'clock in the morning, or when they watch the evening news, or when they're sharing a bottle of wine with friends and modern issues come up. That stuff was my bread and butter.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Probably what makes me different than the Average Jane or Joe is that the journalist in me is always on the lookout for something that connects seemingly random stories together. You have to be careful with this, because it can lead you down conspiracy rabbit holes if you're not careful. But sometimes, a + b +c = d does in fact work. Other times, not so much. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">What I've been thinking about recently are things like the homeless crisis, mass shootings, people becoming more extremist in their political views and opinions, and the Trump Presidency. So what's my over-arching theory on why all these things are connected? It's this: Life has gotten too difficult now, on some level. And everything I listed above, whether triggered by rage, frustration, or a nostalgic longing for an America that no longer exists, is how people are dealing with it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">While there's no question we live in a time where certain things have never been more convenient, we are more disconnected from society than ever in other ways. Sure, online banking is fast and convenient...until you have an issue which requires you speak to a live customer service representative, in which case you will need to mow through layers of computerized voice technology before you can find a true, live human voice to speak with. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As for our phones and computers, there is no question how many more things we are able to keep track of now, whether it's our kids' whereabouts, the current location of a package we ordered, or whether or not we paid the electric bill last month.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">But take away those devices, just for a few days, and we're no longer able to function in the world. This naturally leaves us feeling vulnerable and even anxious -- our entire lives are maintained by machines now, with breakable parts and limited lifespans.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I'm sure many of us have seen someone have a meltdown over a dropped phone, and we all get it. Because a phone is SO much more than a phone now. It's your life in there. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Let's face it, ours is the first generation that has not had other live humans as their first line of defense to help us out during difficult times. We have machines. Heck, if you call your pastor in on a crisis nowadays you'll probably have to go through his voicemail first. That's just the way it is.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Look at our parents' lives as an example of how much simpler it used to be: They paid their rent or mortgage and the gas/water/electric bill all by US mail or in person, and shopped for groceries at the local grocery store. They didn't pay for cable, because it didn't exist, and regular TV was free. Not everyone had a car, often a couple of limited means shared one and just lived close enough to conveniences that it didn't matter. Married couples could generally get by on one income. Medical bills didn't bankrupt anyone because insurance was better AND both hospitals and medical insurance companies operated as non-profit entities, generally run by religious denominations. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Life may have been more limited in some ways, sure. But it was simpler. Much simpler. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I think a lot of Donald Trump's win in 2016 and the fact that about 65 million Americans voted for him again in 2020 is tied into just that. Trump personified the values of 1960's America, and that appealed (and still appeals) to a lot of people troubled by life today. (never mind the issues faced by minorities and women in the 60's, nostalgia generally focuses on the best of an era, not its issues).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I think some homelessness may be tied to the same root problem. At a certain point, life became too hard for many of these people, and they opted for the simpler life of tent dwelling rather than trying to deal with the complexities of 21st century America. Because, contrary to what many think, your average homeless encampment is filled with more than just the drug addicts and mentally ill. There are many people, not unlike ourselves, now choosing to remain houseless, car-less, bill-less, and tax-less. They have less comfort, but more peace. And we need to ask ourselves...how that is possible?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As for the mass shootings, I can tell you this, shared with me by a zoologist friend. When you cage up a few primates in a zoo enclosure, they generally establish a pecking order fairly quickly and do very well together for as long as the group remains stable. But if you keep adding additional primates to a point where the enclosure becomes overcrowded, behavior changes. Eventually a significant portion of the members (mostly males) will begin waging war on the others, often in explosive anger. They're still being fed, and they still have shelter. They are just over-stimulated. They're not picky when they choose their victims, but usually choose other members of the group too old, small, or vulnerable to fight back. And they will kill if allowed to do so, as their way of coping with the stress of their situation. Sound familiar?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Perhaps we just have too many monkeys in this cage, and we're asking too much of them -- us. Would a life that is simpler, with more personal contact, make a difference in our society? Would less technology and more person-to-person interaction help relieve some frustration and anger? I don't know, but I do know that these shootings were almost non-existent 50 years ago, and I think we need to ask ourselves why. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">We also need to ask ourselves whether the conveniences a contactless life outweigh the disadvantages, especially after this pandemic. It's a discussion we need to have. But more than you and I, it needs to be discussed as a society, so we can see if there's a way to re-engage with our neighbors and those we do business with in real life, rather than via message boards, phone menu systems, and text alerts. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Our sociological survival may depend on us listening and speaking to each other -- as we've done for eons -- in person, live and in real time.</span></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-33524781334591639302021-06-05T10:26:00.000-07:002021-06-05T10:26:37.706-07:00Freshly Washed<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Kg20Ot8Mow/YLut0RE7poI/AAAAAAAAFyI/Xkqbw6uTVdwWBS5dXL7pmQ2LstW_YdrAACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/13E9B88F-D032-46D9-B30A-DC6AD2D05314.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2043" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Kg20Ot8Mow/YLut0RE7poI/AAAAAAAAFyI/Xkqbw6uTVdwWBS5dXL7pmQ2LstW_YdrAACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/13E9B88F-D032-46D9-B30A-DC6AD2D05314.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So here we are smack in the middle of 2021, the unofficial start to the Roading 20's -- 21st Century Edition. I don't know about you, but for me 2021 just feels...more, somehow. Like the world has been freshly-washed and hung out in the sunshine. All the good things seem magnified. Lunches, graduations, shopping trips and vacations feel more joyful than I remember them. Strolling around outside feels even better than I remember it did in 2019 and 2020. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Perhaps taking a year off from normal life reset some kind of magic button and we're realizing the joy in things we once took for granted, or even resented, Exhibit A being close proximity to our fellow man. Or maybe it's finally casting off the fear of sickness and death now that we're all (mostly) vaccinated. This all being the case, this summer should be one for the books.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qpnuShVxovE/YLuuNEgz_PI/AAAAAAAAFyU/3lGMmZ6Cw3kHRWlI7KbEyWisWReWwJy3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/0F3D1BFE-63D9-4FE3-A187-1E8E6D78E3DE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qpnuShVxovE/YLuuNEgz_PI/AAAAAAAAFyU/3lGMmZ6Cw3kHRWlI7KbEyWisWReWwJy3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/0F3D1BFE-63D9-4FE3-A187-1E8E6D78E3DE.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />I took my first post-pandemic trip a couple weeks ago, from Oregon to California. Even the airplane ride was nicer than I remember; flight attendants noticeably less bitter and resentful, in-flight pretzels that seemed fresher and crunchier. Is that even possible? We flew direct from Portland to Santa Barbara, and I have to admit I felt a wave of joy wash through me when I stepped out that quaint little Spanish tiled air terminal and smelled that warm and windy air again. And bonus points to you, California, for not being on fire at the time. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uHyBKHEWtXI/YLuuv08k-YI/AAAAAAAAFyc/0OCu6Rd4qOQMMjRFk4cCdwI6hmuhI4LpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/91999B0F-B534-4A86-954A-530BD54CE0EA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uHyBKHEWtXI/YLuuv08k-YI/AAAAAAAAFyc/0OCu6Rd4qOQMMjRFk4cCdwI6hmuhI4LpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/91999B0F-B534-4A86-954A-530BD54CE0EA.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />We spent a couple of days in Santa Barbara, a place where I spent a good deal of my weekends back when I lived in Los Angeles, and what amazed me was how little it changed -- well, the waterfront and beach, anyway. I know the city has grown, but it's still quiet at the beach on weekdays, and still a magnet for the most physically fit and beautiful Californians who dwell among us, the water just as warm and the temperatures just as lovely. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">After a couple of days there we headed north to Paso Robles, where we spent the next five days reconnecting with old friends, enjoying the sunshine, and visiting all our old haunts. We ended in Cambria almost as much as Paso Robles, just because, well, Cambria is always a fun place to visit, and the hiking around that area can't be beat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jtdo6da-nzI/YLuvLQxbhwI/AAAAAAAAFyk/cpqRixM6we0cCCbD3ZErH3IC0xguInzigCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/274324E7-F726-4423-8E31-38B34EB3676E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jtdo6da-nzI/YLuvLQxbhwI/AAAAAAAAFyk/cpqRixM6we0cCCbD3ZErH3IC0xguInzigCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/274324E7-F726-4423-8E31-38B34EB3676E.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hQjNgiI57P0/YLuvLdLzhyI/AAAAAAAAFyo/EtY-5setbIwKI3Kc570e9tKtyXDZBH5VQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/B78F1295-8729-45EB-AD4D-56B00E78624D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hQjNgiI57P0/YLuvLdLzhyI/AAAAAAAAFyo/EtY-5setbIwKI3Kc570e9tKtyXDZBH5VQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/B78F1295-8729-45EB-AD4D-56B00E78624D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Paso Robles has changed a lot since we left, and not necessarily for the better, but we did get to enjoy some ziplining in Santa Margarita and the Sensorio light show outside Paso. Downtown Paso is a bit worse for the wear, and so many old stores have been replaced with bougie piano bars, expensive rustic-looking restaurants and boutiques I couldn't even count them all. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In a way, seeing all that gave me some closure with leaving, because sometime in the three years since I'd been gone I think I'd idealized it a bit, and seeing the reality of it reminded me that while 2012 Paso Robles WAS a town I loved living in, 2021 Paso is not. There's just too many inconveniences that come from living in a "wine country destination," so I'm happy we got out when we did. But it has become a true tourist destination now, which is probably great for the local economy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E5nLVhDQ8p8/YLuviipb9TI/AAAAAAAAFy4/WIUuX2_R3WgzKD5Duw5GGaT3qhsNxaxSACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/45B1C52D-24FB-411A-B54F-4C74C02ED264.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E5nLVhDQ8p8/YLuviipb9TI/AAAAAAAAFy4/WIUuX2_R3WgzKD5Duw5GGaT3qhsNxaxSACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/45B1C52D-24FB-411A-B54F-4C74C02ED264.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D1cogInzLWY/YLuviR7TMzI/AAAAAAAAFy0/l416xfGEtvUgcBAovEtgkNzQHk9DhrfmgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/E88F12A5-06D0-4467-BE4C-28C82C5D4311.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D1cogInzLWY/YLuviR7TMzI/AAAAAAAAFy0/l416xfGEtvUgcBAovEtgkNzQHk9DhrfmgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/E88F12A5-06D0-4467-BE4C-28C82C5D4311.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Safe to say, we've just begun our traveling now that it's safe to move about the country. Our next excursion is heading to Walla Walla, WA for some touring around and wine tasting. It will be interesting to see how it compares to Paso Robles in terms of pricing and accommodations. But with our mid-week airfare to Santa Barbara just $89 bucks each way, I'm thinking my old escape destination of SB may live again as my new one. I could certainly see sticking my toes in the sand and warm water some mid-February morning and forgetting all the clouds and rain of the Willamette Valley. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So stay tuned. Like many of you, I think we're going to have a fantastic 2021, doing all the old things but maybe in a new, and more appreciative way. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Ij2lFkwKxs/YLuvvumIngI/AAAAAAAAFy8/pFAwpM-7vuYJs89dArZVYxDa7M6rRz7fACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/646679C7-7FCF-41D1-AC37-E8FBCCDAF177.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Ij2lFkwKxs/YLuvvumIngI/AAAAAAAAFy8/pFAwpM-7vuYJs89dArZVYxDa7M6rRz7fACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/646679C7-7FCF-41D1-AC37-E8FBCCDAF177.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nuQPV6tASyY/YLuv1RFi-LI/AAAAAAAAFzM/RbzaXLQcpL4ooV52lv4gW6bZ_mHqUUCPQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/8464FB43-21FC-48B9-97C4-3989F99893ED.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nuQPV6tASyY/YLuv1RFi-LI/AAAAAAAAFzM/RbzaXLQcpL4ooV52lv4gW6bZ_mHqUUCPQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/8464FB43-21FC-48B9-97C4-3989F99893ED.jpeg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Took the train back...beautiful scenery!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-40751059979703168602021-04-09T14:03:00.000-07:002021-04-09T14:03:03.105-07:00Seasons<p> <span style="font-family: georgia;">I love the way the English language sometimes creates a link between two things that make sense...the word "season" being one of them. I think seasons are to the planet what seasonings are to food. You know, the way thyme, oregano, and parsley turn plain spaghetti sauce into your grandmother's secret recipe? That's what seasons do, here on earth. Your backyard becomes more than your backyard at the first sign of color, whether it's the pastels of spring, the rich greens of summer or the warm amber tones of autumn.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1DYFOE1MqNY/YGs4F77fikI/AAAAAAAAFu4/0jtdYkXOvVE3GMRbe5Wd2PgB_haMWKeOACLcBGAsYHQ/s636/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-04-05%2Bat%2B9.16.15%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="636" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1DYFOE1MqNY/YGs4F77fikI/AAAAAAAAFu4/0jtdYkXOvVE3GMRbe5Wd2PgB_haMWKeOACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-04-05%2Bat%2B9.16.15%2BAM.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />As far as planetary seasonings go, spring is one of my favorites. In this area, after a winter full of gray, it's nice to see these kind of outrageous pops of color everywhere. I don't know if it was pioneers planting along the old wagon trails and homesteads (that's the rumor among the locals), or ODOT, or guerrilla gardeners did it, but the medians of the highways, the fields, and dirt curbs are all exploding right now with bright yellow daffodils, scattered about here, there and everywhere, all blooming right now. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNN5AspokRU/YGs4RU5sGDI/AAAAAAAAFu8/narIaa7GjUM7DFwKSSbH2D4CJZouf6T0gCLcBGAsYHQ/s737/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-04-05%2Bat%2B9.13.13%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="737" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNN5AspokRU/YGs4RU5sGDI/AAAAAAAAFu8/narIaa7GjUM7DFwKSSbH2D4CJZouf6T0gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-04-05%2Bat%2B9.13.13%2BAM.png" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">It makes even the most mundane drive up Interstate 5 pleasant, especially when you throw in the blossoms from all the trees which adorn the sides of the roadways as well. The seasonings of the season indeed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">There's something innately hopeful about planting daffodils by the side of the road -- or planting anything, really -- trees, vegetables, or even the act of having kids. It's betting on the future; something that certainly isn't easy in these times of ours but probably has never been a 100 percent guaranteed success at any point in history, really.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Planting is an act which says, "I believe there will be a future good enough for this plant to survive." Having kids is the same. I have no idea what kind of mindset or lives the babies being born today will have. But the fact that they exist says that, yes, there is still hope in the world. Hope for daffodils and hope that someone will be around to see them. I like that. </span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xm9y2BZvlu0/YGs4p2M0HZI/AAAAAAAAFvI/VNOyHTN2P1gCRTh5UV9PbEbpUtw9ba1wwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/1EE42743-2305-4D83-940F-688B9FEA1E3F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1436" data-original-width="1440" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xm9y2BZvlu0/YGs4p2M0HZI/AAAAAAAAFvI/VNOyHTN2P1gCRTh5UV9PbEbpUtw9ba1wwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1EE42743-2305-4D83-940F-688B9FEA1E3F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We've added our own dash to hope to the mix recently, in planting a collection of mature trees in our property: five new sunset maples, five pines, two white birches, four dwarf Japanese maples, and a Kelly's Gold Maple out front, to replace the one that died in the ice storm in February. These trees were professionally rescued from a neighborhood vineyard </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">using a giant tree spade. It was sad that</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> wine grape expansion on the property meant they had to go. But the vineyard's loss is our gain. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wVFqVu2RGdg/YGs49hPlaAI/AAAAAAAAFvk/7tpJMFeHeo8q74TNCZBlQjbiirpkt_rEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/013A3989-2E90-4D11-ACDA-F733FC0C8A66.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1436" data-original-width="1440" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wVFqVu2RGdg/YGs49hPlaAI/AAAAAAAAFvk/7tpJMFeHeo8q74TNCZBlQjbiirpkt_rEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/013A3989-2E90-4D11-ACDA-F733FC0C8A66.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BabmsEXICQU/YGs49kCjFMI/AAAAAAAAFvc/XQLYnVHy-XoWnSowkLZKAYARBpAR3AWbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/434D07AD-BC41-409D-BE6C-24AAA08E4AE8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BabmsEXICQU/YGs49kCjFMI/AAAAAAAAFvc/XQLYnVHy-XoWnSowkLZKAYARBpAR3AWbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/434D07AD-BC41-409D-BE6C-24AAA08E4AE8.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pHE_2oFqf-0/YGs49kmlZLI/AAAAAAAAFvg/VwZBbrhtTJgc7Nv2Lmb1Myg3BaAl0GTyQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/79B2061A-C19D-4CAD-9AFA-93611273F7AB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1436" data-original-width="1440" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pHE_2oFqf-0/YGs49kmlZLI/AAAAAAAAFvg/VwZBbrhtTJgc7Nv2Lmb1Myg3BaAl0GTyQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/79B2061A-C19D-4CAD-9AFA-93611273F7AB.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'm not sure they'll all make it, or what their long term prognosis will look like, as it's early on and they must survive this summer, which may be difficult for a newly transplanted 15 year-old tree. If they do well they will likely outlive me, which is nice to know. They will require a HUGE amount of watering this summer due to their size of their rootballs (we needed a tractor with a backhoe to plant them) but like any other future-based activity, it's a prospect full of hopes, dreams and maybe just a little insanity.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Someday I hope to sit in their shade with a cool glass of something alcoholic at the end of a nice day and listen to their leaves in the wind. Will they make it? We don't know right now, but like all planting projects at their start, we're optimistic and a little dreamy about it. It was the same with our kids, and look how well that turned out. Sometimes optimism proves true, so let's hope it's the same here. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Like anything in life, whether it's planting trees, a garden, or a family, it's the act of starting something new that creates the seasoning in our own lives -- a little kick of spice or a surprise burst of flavor which makes the mundane new again. The hillsides by the highway look sweet and inviting, and our back pasture beckons with the promise of future shade. That's how things look today, anyway. I'll take it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And so to all of you, may your spring be colorful, your food flavorful and your garden plentiful! Happy spring. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-30mfUmi6D90/YGs5AoUgePI/AAAAAAAAFvs/C7PmwV5zBhwbJxdRRMEQJnNlgUD1V1qAACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/E1555362-9E5A-4434-A87A-7B11C76E93A2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-30mfUmi6D90/YGs5AoUgePI/AAAAAAAAFvs/C7PmwV5zBhwbJxdRRMEQJnNlgUD1V1qAACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/E1555362-9E5A-4434-A87A-7B11C76E93A2.jpeg" /></a></div><p></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-45134457698482795522021-03-17T11:35:00.003-07:002021-03-17T11:35:38.367-07:00Weighting... One Year On<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Oregon locked down exactly one year ago today. We had plans to go to a spacious venue to see an Irish band that night as I remember, but of course that never happened, along with a myriad of other things -- weddings, graduations....funerals.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">All along, we knew the world would still be there once we turned a corner and vaccinations were available, so the trick became to avoid the virus for as long as possible. And we did. Perhaps you did, too.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1yU60g_gcyw/YFJKiCQ9fOI/AAAAAAAAFuY/mvvrmAF5MzoyZ9vmGetPdc51G_a7DAMGwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1228/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-03-17%2Bat%2B11.28.00%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="1228" height="184" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1yU60g_gcyw/YFJKiCQ9fOI/AAAAAAAAFuY/mvvrmAF5MzoyZ9vmGetPdc51G_a7DAMGwCLcBGAsYHQ/w422-h184/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-03-17%2Bat%2B11.28.00%2BAM.png" width="422" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The actual day of lockdown, we took a long hike up to an area known as "God's Thumb" on the coast. We had no idea the state and federal park systems would also shut down for several months and hiking would not be on the table as an activity after that day, so I'm very glad we went when we did. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And now, it's time to get back out there. I have a list of six wonderful hikes on my to-do list. Except I'm not sure I would be able to make it up a mountain today; certainly not God's Thumb. Because as it turns out, after having 12 months in lockdown, I've discovered I quite enjoy sitting on my ass and doing nothing. And now I have the ass to prove it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And so, that has to change now, so that I can get back out into the world in roughly the same shape and size I was when I left it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I've gained seven pounds during the pandemic; enough that I can feel the additional weight through my midsection and behind, but thankfully not enough that my clothes don't fit anymore. But if Our Pandemic Year was about limitedness, Our Recovery Year needs to be about making up for lost time. More gatherings with friends. More travel. And more hiking for heaven's sake!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-chnPhy0-vls/YFJK0OryLhI/AAAAAAAAFuc/XzvaSgQbvV0SGyHX6yFVgNHS-LP_AcNRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s523/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-03-17%2Bat%2B11.25.45%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="523" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-chnPhy0-vls/YFJK0OryLhI/AAAAAAAAFuc/XzvaSgQbvV0SGyHX6yFVgNHS-LP_AcNRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-03-17%2Bat%2B11.25.45%2BAM.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />And so I'm embarking on that most dreaded of things -- a diet. Even though I'd promised myself I would never be an old lady on a diet, I'm going to make an exception in light of this extraordinary year, and try and get back not only to the weight that was on the scale in March 2020, but also my STAMINA. And not for watching Netflix. For hiking mountains.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm NOT going to be posting a lot of boring diet updates (you're welcome), but in writing it here I'm hoping to hold myself accountable to Summer 2021 in some way; to say, "I'll meet you on the mountain," and be able to make it up there without needing a call from the paramedics or to be flung to the wayside, sitting under a shady tree while everyone else scrambles on to the top.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I will admit that during this rough year I comforted myself with too much food and too many cocktails. Epic cocktails, true. I don't blame myself for this, instead, I give myself credit for playing by the rules, keeping distance and at first, disinfecting everything that came into our house, including us. Our discipline may have saved us.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But the time has come to begin planning on emerging from that, and I've decided that in order to walk through that door back into Life As We Knew It, you must first actually fit through the door. Bah Bump Bump. A little diet humor for you there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So here I go. Without blame or shame, just wanting to get up that mountain again. Happy Diet Season to everyone who needs or wants it!</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-2957415507168811572021-02-26T09:34:00.004-08:002021-02-26T09:40:17.309-08:00Off the grid: The 2021 Ice Storm<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sa7K3zSjSs4/YDktsCCvHJI/AAAAAAAAFs8/17WlcPP__pkp-RXk2UcD4xqLGTb6aUGMACLcBGAsYHQ/s693/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.11.20%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="627" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sa7K3zSjSs4/YDktsCCvHJI/AAAAAAAAFs8/17WlcPP__pkp-RXk2UcD4xqLGTb6aUGMACLcBGAsYHQ/w363-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.11.20%2BAM.png" width="363" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm sure you've all been hearing about the terrible power outages in Texas, which have left millions without water or power. Less reported on was the ice storm that hit the Willamette Valley here in Oregon at about the same time, which has left several dead, hundreds of thousands without power/water, and many homes destroyed or damaged. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And just like all the history that's happened over the last year, we were front and center stage for it. I'm happy to report that after six days with no power and water, and 13 with no internet service, we are finally back online, both literally and metaphorically. Clothes and bodies are washed properly, dishes are sanitized, and online business can again be done.</span></p><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pduethFgKpg/YDkuTPo64AI/AAAAAAAAFtM/hzzRqdbJzWsSAX3uZadNoTuke1NUrRu8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1828.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pduethFgKpg/YDkuTPo64AI/AAAAAAAAFtM/hzzRqdbJzWsSAX3uZadNoTuke1NUrRu8wCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/IMG_1828.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Deadly beauty.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The ice storm started on February 12. We were expecting snow, but instead, sleet began falling that morning, and by 10 a.m., our power was out. Sleet is strange stuff, not rain, but not snow. It's like hail, but not really. Over the day it continued, and through the night as well.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We pride ourselves on being prepared, but we were totally under-prepared for a disaster of this magnitude. The first day wasn't too bad; we used our generator, discovered our gas fireplace has a battery back-up built in for ignition, and used a good portion of the water we'd put aside for not only drinking, but also flushing toilets, washing ourselves (fill a pot and take it into the bathtub with you) and doing dishes. We never dreamed the power would be out for so long, but in hindsight, we should have been more prepared in case it was.<br /><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nPkwQVd15kA/YDkt3C9Rp-I/AAAAAAAAFtA/evdF10iM-GACHBQ9hww091LcPw7jGfSJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2790.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nPkwQVd15kA/YDkt3C9Rp-I/AAAAAAAAFtA/evdF10iM-GACHBQ9hww091LcPw7jGfSJwCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_2790.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One of our two generators.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">That night we stood outside as the sleet continued to fall and the ice build. We heard something that sounded like firecrackers about every 30 seconds or so, some extremely loud, others not so much. It was the sound of tree limbs of all sizes splitting under the weight of the ice and then crashing to the ground, all over the neighborhood and forest that surrounds us. It was eerie, fascinating and absolutely heartbreaking, all at the same time.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OohJWRao3EQ/YDkumcT-83I/AAAAAAAAFtU/JmjAf6SYV-MkOklsj26unUU70fBfWh9DQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1048/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.11.41%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1048" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OohJWRao3EQ/YDkumcT-83I/AAAAAAAAFtU/JmjAf6SYV-MkOklsj26unUU70fBfWh9DQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h263/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.11.41%2BAM.png" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Dramatic death.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJZFfxBiZWg/YDkuwXkGugI/AAAAAAAAFtY/JJBhFxZByfguEyHmpHPEue8bt17VD7OKACLcBGAsYHQ/s974/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.12.24%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="974" height="283" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJZFfxBiZWg/YDkuwXkGugI/AAAAAAAAFtY/JJBhFxZByfguEyHmpHPEue8bt17VD7OKACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h283/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.12.24%2BAM.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The next morning (Valentine's Day), we went outside to inspect the damage. Our favorite tree in our front yard, a Box Elder with amazing fall colors, had not survived -- it split three ways down the center, a dramatic death if ever I've seen one. Other trees had large limbs on the ground or were bent over, weighed down with ice, but had survived. It was stunning, but it was deadly. So we spent most of Valentine's Day cleaning up the property, and going out to find more gas for the generator and more drinking water. We had already resorted to making a camp latrine for our other business, to save on water. We were now at Day Three</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wj5nA8ktjLM/YDku6BLfh7I/AAAAAAAAFtg/zXq9t6ww-Pc3PM1s51-yb54Vyc4JIttoACLcBGAsYHQ/s496/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.14.41%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="449" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wj5nA8ktjLM/YDku6BLfh7I/AAAAAAAAFtg/zXq9t6ww-Pc3PM1s51-yb54Vyc4JIttoACLcBGAsYHQ/w363-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.14.41%2BAM.png" width="363" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Camp Latrine: Where what you get out of it depends on what you put into it. Like life.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This went on for the next few days. We hooked up our old antenna to the television, which in turn was hooked up to the generator. Watching the news, we discovered that a half-million people in Oregon had lost power (some of whom have still not been restored). on Day Four we finally took advantage all of the rain (the sleet stopped after Day Two) to begin harvesting rainwater off our shop roof into some waiting ice chests. We were able to flush toilets again at that point, and boil it for all other uses, too. I've never been so thankful to live somewhere with abundant rain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C4bjThPHQ8c/YDkvP6X2WoI/AAAAAAAAFtw/8Utgnhf9kaMbnRm_rKUyA8qxIRHSoHsUACLcBGAsYHQ/s462/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.14.27%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="282" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C4bjThPHQ8c/YDkvP6X2WoI/AAAAAAAAFtw/8Utgnhf9kaMbnRm_rKUyA8qxIRHSoHsUACLcBGAsYHQ/w244-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-02-26%2Bat%2B9.14.27%2BAM.png" width="244" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">MacGyver'ed water catchment system!</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v7zDWg7GMjs/YDkvH7JG6sI/AAAAAAAAFto/q4TPNnZOWWMmIQPft5BMtw9xQvXtNj7dwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1836.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v7zDWg7GMjs/YDkvH7JG6sI/AAAAAAAAFto/q4TPNnZOWWMmIQPft5BMtw9xQvXtNj7dwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/IMG_1836.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Fallen tree in the orchard.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">On Day Six the lights came on! The heater fired up, everything with outage alarms began beeping, and we almost wept with joy. The house went from a brisk 59 degrees to a toasty 68 within a few hours. We still didn't have any internet, but did have our phones, so just continued burning our data allotment until internet was finally restored yesterday. </span><p></p><p></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vO7mSLR7Xws/YDkvdB-sDnI/AAAAAAAAFt4/ZazNC3wBDUQ8ftL4ybdLq6n4vCGTyVMuQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2798.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vO7mSLR7Xws/YDkvdB-sDnI/AAAAAAAAFt4/ZazNC3wBDUQ8ftL4ybdLq6n4vCGTyVMuQCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_2798.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our lovely Deodar cedar suffered some damage...</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7MAXDe_32vI/YDkvc98XwEI/AAAAAAAAFt0/tEZJxl9M8ToJ3GVSUJpg4KOaKDJjoyIdgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2799.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7MAXDe_32vI/YDkvc98XwEI/AAAAAAAAFt0/tEZJxl9M8ToJ3GVSUJpg4KOaKDJjoyIdgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2799.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">as did our arbor vitae trees. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We've learned a lot through this. First is that you can never have enough water put up. We were on a well, so with no power we had no water, but many, many thousands of residents in city limits had no water either, as the generators which run the municipal water systems could not keep up with demand using only generator power. At that point, finding water in the store was like finding gold. We'll be putting in a special surge protector which will allow us to run our well off one of our generators, and will also be purchasing two 500 gallon storage tanks to keep rainwater on hand at all times. What if this had happened in summer? Water is literally life, which means water storage is mandatory.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We also learned what we did right: We had plenty of easy to prepare food put up. We had emergency flashlights, which charge in your wall until the power goes off and you need them (they also serve as emergency lights if it happens at night). We had the gas fireplace, which can run even when power is off, and we knew how to make water catchment systems and camp latrines. All that earthquake preparedness finally paid off in some ways. And in other ways, it was a very real dress rehearsal for The Big One, when they say you would be prepared to be on your own for a minimum of two weeks. We just did half that, and found some holes in our plans. But they won't be holes for long. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm not sure why it is the fates determined Oregon needed to live through a historic wildfire and a historic ice storm in the same year, but so be it. We're comforted by the fact that our normal lives are back and that spring is on the way.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We're also thankful that, as inconvenient as this ice storm was, our home was not damaged in any way, and we were put on notice to get better prepared for next time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sometimes minor disasters are gifts in disguise, if you can learn from them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-30986512752980505692021-01-27T13:14:00.002-08:002021-01-28T08:04:15.581-08:00Snowgaritas and a shot<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niQdVWQzsOU/YBHTI-ZI3tI/AAAAAAAAFpw/_R5fyoZFIUwPZBw4mt6V2z28QALXZCjcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s699/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.42.50%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="518" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niQdVWQzsOU/YBHTI-ZI3tI/AAAAAAAAFpw/_R5fyoZFIUwPZBw4mt6V2z28QALXZCjcQCLcBGAsYHQ/w296-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.42.50%2BPM.png" width="296" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We had our first snowfall of the year today. There is always something magical about snow; growing up in Southern California, the most we ever saw was an occasional thick frost, white and crisp to the touch, but never anything actually falling from the sky. Generally by morning -- about the time the 405 would start backing up and the first celebrities would be showing up at their cosmetic sugeon's offices, it would all be melted anyway. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In Los Angeles, better to dream of monster waves or mudslides, even earthquakes. Really, anything but snow. SoCal snow is as elusive as the pink unicorn. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReszYDEbyzw/YBHTb8wiNXI/AAAAAAAAFqc/Pthy2F-IDBQoZMYQLErEEKJb5os4M_7NwCLcBGAsYHQ/s916/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.40.51%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="916" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReszYDEbyzw/YBHTb8wiNXI/AAAAAAAAFqc/Pthy2F-IDBQoZMYQLErEEKJb5os4M_7NwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.40.51%2BPM.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But since moving here to Oregon, the snow arrives every year, usually sometime after Christmas but before Easter. That's right, no white Christmases for us for some reason, but plenty of white President's Days or St. Paddy's Days. So I always keep my snow/winter decor up through at least February. And never take my duck boots out until after Christmas.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Because of my upbringing in sunny Los Angeles, I don't think I will ever be able to treat snow as an ordinary thing. As soon as the weather experts begin talking about it, I get excited. The snow we saw today did not disappoint; it started around lunchtime and went until 3 pm or so. At 4 pm we took a walk then came home, made some tacos and I gathered some fresh snow up to make some snowgaritas, which are like margaritas but using snow instead of blender ice. That's my own idea, but I don't understand why it's not a staple in places like Wisconsin, where an abundance of snow should make these as much a tradition as Taco Tuesdays. Why not?</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ct9EEm-rR2s/YBHTp_9RcKI/AAAAAAAAFqg/Triw5uQbfOEupnRUe63i2HfxXSCj_H1sACLcBGAsYHQ/s773/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.54.00%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="773" height="336" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ct9EEm-rR2s/YBHTp_9RcKI/AAAAAAAAFqg/Triw5uQbfOEupnRUe63i2HfxXSCj_H1sACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h336/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.54.00%2BPM.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Before this first snowfall, we were able to squeeze in one more trip to Silver Falls State Park after some particularly heavy rains, when we figured the falls would be at their peak. It did not disappoint. The lighting was just right.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UkABoe4fBV4/YBHVnGjh2DI/AAAAAAAAFq8/PW5u2_cuxKY0BlbyVI7x6y8UzVjrWO6AwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2700.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UkABoe4fBV4/YBHVnGjh2DI/AAAAAAAAFq8/PW5u2_cuxKY0BlbyVI7x6y8UzVjrWO6AwCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_2700.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NvzYCIsmYPQ/YBHVmLWTebI/AAAAAAAAFq4/spm8_xe3bRADJPfENn5px7UbCT8ibHPgACLcBGAsYHQ/s687/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-16%2Bat%2B10.12.04%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="524" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NvzYCIsmYPQ/YBHVmLWTebI/AAAAAAAAFq4/spm8_xe3bRADJPfENn5px7UbCT8ibHPgACLcBGAsYHQ/w305-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-16%2Bat%2B10.12.04%2BAM.png" width="305" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I also, happily, am now halfway on the way to being fully vaccinated; I got my first dose of the Pfeizer vaccine last week. Words can't express the relief I feel to know I'm on my way to being a lot safer as I head back to work. Oregon is vaccinating its teachers first, and so since I'll be heading back to the classroom to help in the work of getting our students back to where they need to be in 2021, I was able to get my shot. No side effects other than a sore arm, and it will be great to work alongside students knowing it's safe to do so. I know we'll be masking and social distancing for awhile still, but this is a start towards getting life back to normal again. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W4Fo25xARFc/YBHVFmfi1MI/AAAAAAAAFqw/x94sXdGijGIRTDhbRfG1-Mzn3C7-lfi_ACLcBGAsYHQ/s691/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B1.02.54%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="489" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W4Fo25xARFc/YBHVFmfi1MI/AAAAAAAAFqw/x94sXdGijGIRTDhbRfG1-Mzn3C7-lfi_ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B1.02.54%2BPM.png" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the spirit of a happier 2021, I've also decided to bring my growing skills inside, finding two growing plants that seem literally impossible to kill. The first is a live moss bowl, filled with tiny ferns, lichen, and a few other mossy plants. And the second are air plants, which according to friends only need a once-weekly dunk in a jug of water for 10 minutes or so. So far, so good!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And "so far, so good," pretty much sums up my feelings about 2021 so far.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZBXcucw_a8/YBHXRmGgPmI/AAAAAAAAFrM/l57FBIwmWo8O1hIp1L5rxACeUeEzRypQQCLcBGAsYHQ/s686/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.44.49%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="455" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZBXcucw_a8/YBHXRmGgPmI/AAAAAAAAFrM/l57FBIwmWo8O1hIp1L5rxACeUeEzRypQQCLcBGAsYHQ/w265-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.44.49%2BPM.png" width="265" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lZRGIAzJZk/YBHXR0_KICI/AAAAAAAAFrQ/_gT4-L66w9ckLxiYknNoK0TmMOlW4964gCLcBGAsYHQ/s927/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.45.10%2BPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="927" height="299" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lZRGIAzJZk/YBHXR0_KICI/AAAAAAAAFrQ/_gT4-L66w9ckLxiYknNoK0TmMOlW4964gCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h299/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-01-27%2Bat%2B12.45.10%2BPM.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-37625631855930898732020-12-31T10:03:00.001-08:002020-12-31T10:03:40.068-08:00End of the year<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xw2dGTAIe2w/X-4PPNnjrPI/AAAAAAAAFm4/OE_p09K1drw4NelOjUMg21oxsWs7kboeQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/10CC9432-E2A3-45B4-B399-218F89BCFD85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2043" data-original-width="2048" height="399" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xw2dGTAIe2w/X-4PPNnjrPI/AAAAAAAAFm4/OE_p09K1drw4NelOjUMg21oxsWs7kboeQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h399/10CC9432-E2A3-45B4-B399-218F89BCFD85.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />So where does the end of 2020 find you? If you're like me, i.e., counting yourself lucky right now, you're basically in the same place as you were for most of the year: You're staying in, limiting trips out in public, while your social life consists mainly of texts and Zoom calls with friends and family and the occasional brief chat with the checker at the grocery store.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ipq-h2ccCBM/X-4PlM8d3pI/AAAAAAAAFnA/yUdzqczmisUNsbbTeDJyEPamov_uGBMegCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ipq-h2ccCBM/X-4PlM8d3pI/AAAAAAAAFnA/yUdzqczmisUNsbbTeDJyEPamov_uGBMegCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2647.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />I've started thinking of how 2020 has changed me, and while much of the year was a bit of a rough ride, I've actually found a new-found acceptance of the way things are and the limits life is currently demanding of us all. That's the last stage in the Kubler-Ross cycle of grief, right? As Americans, we're taught from birth to fight, to hold off acquiescing, or accepting anything other than total victory. Fighting and rebelling seems a part of our national culture, our DNA, and has been from the get-go. But as life teaches us, often the only escape is ultimately through surrender and acceptance. And so it is with 2020.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FYhoe30a1HQ/X-4P2Dasd9I/AAAAAAAAFnI/2U_4N2TM6ZgfpWRRQGAkgUe1S-n_8fW7gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FYhoe30a1HQ/X-4P2Dasd9I/AAAAAAAAFnI/2U_4N2TM6ZgfpWRRQGAkgUe1S-n_8fW7gCLcBGAsYHQ/w266-h400/IMG_1812.jpg" width="266" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />I've lowered my expectations for every day, and it's been very freeing, honestly. What I don't get to today gets put off until tomorrow -- or whatever day I feel like doing it (within reason). I think one of the biggest changes is that I don't beat myself up over things not getting done. Things like the kitchen taking seven months (and counting) to complete, or the times I've turned the car around in a store parking lot and left when I realized it meant the store was more crowded than I was comfortable with, have all trained me to not get too wrapped around the axle when something I'l planned on doesn't happen whenI thought it would. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Health cooperating, there's always tomorrow. Or the day after. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I guess sometimes learning to live with less even means less expectations of oneself, which is kind of a surprise bonus gift bestowed during a difficult time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kcotHK6IrhM/X-4QEDpXajI/AAAAAAAAFnM/sYnBcIzLt-EB0H7V8oSaYQBp7CR1YEeKwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kcotHK6IrhM/X-4QEDpXajI/AAAAAAAAFnM/sYnBcIzLt-EB0H7V8oSaYQBp7CR1YEeKwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/IMG_1810.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />Big Ag and I have also settled into a lovely little routine of him going upstairs to his new home office to work during the day, and me staying downstairs and doing chores. We often take a walk at lunch now. And after adjusting to being around each other almost 24/7, we have hit a groove where that no longer feels like too much. It took awhile-- we both value our independent time spent doing our own thing -- but 2020 changed us and made us better able to spend large chunks of time together. Probably good practice for retirement.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N7LU2H51iV4/X-4R15p4oFI/AAAAAAAAFno/_ahaoFjLUuk35dL4SmWLcD6zKMiIKx3WwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N7LU2H51iV4/X-4R15p4oFI/AAAAAAAAFno/_ahaoFjLUuk35dL4SmWLcD6zKMiIKx3WwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/IMG_1798.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />As the year passed we saw more and more friends become ill, and more and more friends' parents went into hospital and actually died from COVID. That's the generation that's been hit the hardest -- the one right above ours. But you know, even with that, we've also seen life go on in positive ways, too. Babies being born. Zoom weddings and baby showers. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eNKEccmPR48/X-4QUNYeNfI/AAAAAAAAFnY/H2ypYG9TalI20jitJO3dWEtvN3EmVCmQQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/5D6E368E-E803-41D2-956D-5EF6A07FDD8A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eNKEccmPR48/X-4QUNYeNfI/AAAAAAAAFnY/H2ypYG9TalI20jitJO3dWEtvN3EmVCmQQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/5D6E368E-E803-41D2-956D-5EF6A07FDD8A.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />2021 will be a year of shifting back to "normal," assuming we don't face any COVID or other health challenges. With our baskets now largely empty of the things we did before -- concerts, brunches, vacations and events -- all of us will start putting things back into those baskets as the year progresses. I don't know about you, but I'm going to be a lot more circumspect as far as what goes back in. Maybe not in terms of <i>types</i> of activities, but in terms of their <i>amounts</i>. Less may be more from now on. I've come to enjoy the weeks when I have nothing whatsoever scheduled except whatever I choose to creatively do around our property. I hope I don't relinquish that time too quickly or easily in favor of just being busy and occupied.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J8n5QVCkBRQ/X-4R_J6om0I/AAAAAAAAFns/dDmnw5W_dtEk56dVCKuWx68RqdvKKgqYACLcBGAsYHQ/s1034/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-11-08%2Bat%2B3.24.43%2BPM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1034" height="268" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J8n5QVCkBRQ/X-4R_J6om0I/AAAAAAAAFns/dDmnw5W_dtEk56dVCKuWx68RqdvKKgqYACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h268/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-11-08%2Bat%2B3.24.43%2BPM.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />So wherever you are, I hope you are healthy, happy and prepared to finish the crazy ride 2020 has been, as we move towards brighter days. Stay well, and I hope whatever ends up in your basket for 2021 is both meaningful and nourishing, both physically and emotionally. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Happy New Year!</span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tgYyTYLlmJI/X-4SGvVC_uI/AAAAAAAAFn0/QrkZH0X0UkIEo1rOSifND4tbQGvc5qsswCLcBGAsYHQ/s1223/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-11-08%2Bat%2B3.09.50%2BPM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1223" height="230" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tgYyTYLlmJI/X-4SGvVC_uI/AAAAAAAAFn0/QrkZH0X0UkIEo1rOSifND4tbQGvc5qsswCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h230/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-11-08%2Bat%2B3.09.50%2BPM.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hoping 2021 is less of an odd duck than 2020 was. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-71497106002410128082020-10-30T17:56:00.001-07:002020-10-30T17:56:20.641-07:00Bend there, done that<p><span style="font-family: georgia;">While my sinuses are not equipped to live there full time, I do love the high desert. Even in California, I often found myself torn if offered the choice between a day at the ocean or the desert. It's no different in Oregon, where beauty resides on both sides of the Cascades.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We spent the day in Bend last week and enjoyed the gorgeous fall colors. I think my favorite thing about Oregon is the autumn season. It starts in late August and is still going strong at the end of October. And despite getting a lot less rainfall than we in the Willamette Valley do, Bend still has plenty of colorful autumn trees!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PJntZr85CZA/X5y08wop_kI/AAAAAAAAFlg/WuNa-dPRIKccb1gM1hZwHNQ3IAaya0j7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PJntZr85CZA/X5y08wop_kI/AAAAAAAAFlg/WuNa-dPRIKccb1gM1hZwHNQ3IAaya0j7ACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2419.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Three Sisters as seen from the east.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lZstnRV8u4o/X5y08HoQLCI/AAAAAAAAFlc/HtZOVhEM7tsA1z9x1A28O9pHXZeLRASfACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lZstnRV8u4o/X5y08HoQLCI/AAAAAAAAFlc/HtZOVhEM7tsA1z9x1A28O9pHXZeLRASfACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2421.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Black Butte, made famous by Bend's own Deschutes Brewery's Black Butte Porter</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O-06yn3a9Eo/X5y1AdHjcFI/AAAAAAAAFlk/k2vQLMKX14kN79khoJ3xcHHs12Jjj_hCACLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_2424.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And just some lovely fall color in the park near Mirror Pond</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O-06yn3a9Eo/X5y1AdHjcFI/AAAAAAAAFlk/k2vQLMKX14kN79khoJ3xcHHs12Jjj_hCACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPkr8-2Me30/X5y1CsqZHvI/AAAAAAAAFlo/NQbPUCXl_BM9v2kWG1ESZyYbdaWEo_6IQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPkr8-2Me30/X5y1CsqZHvI/AAAAAAAAFlo/NQbPUCXl_BM9v2kWG1ESZyYbdaWEo_6IQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2425.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MFSCjuOB7IM/X5y1CvXVAgI/AAAAAAAAFls/OXIlXL77YtobuN8QXtLVQXMRycrSpGo2ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MFSCjuOB7IM/X5y1CvXVAgI/AAAAAAAAFls/OXIlXL77YtobuN8QXtLVQXMRycrSpGo2ACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2428.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FawXAzYWNXg/X5y1Dgu2L7I/AAAAAAAAFlw/n1bb1tGga1o1Wi8sfxjsNvtsOco87BXNgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FawXAzYWNXg/X5y1Dgu2L7I/AAAAAAAAFlw/n1bb1tGga1o1Wi8sfxjsNvtsOco87BXNgCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_2430.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-57966600558478595212020-10-24T20:06:00.000-07:002020-10-24T20:06:39.609-07:00Requiem for a forest<p> <span style="font-family: georgia;">Last week we decided we needed a mental health day and drove to Bend for the day. I'll post some photos we took in Bend in a few days, but I wanted to first post some photos of the areas we drove through which were burned by the Beachie Creek Fire from last month (the one which had us on evacuation notice). It has been described as a "once-in-a-century" fire, burning about 200,000 acres. As we drove through, we saw tree stumps and areas of forest still smoldering, even after four inches of rain and six weeks of time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm glad I got to see this beautiful forest before it burned, because my guess is that it's going to be many years before it looks even close to what it did before, if ever. I heard a news report the other night that said a fire like this takes the forest it burns about 150 years to recover. So I won't be seeing it, obviously.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The strangest thing was the way the fire checkerboarded across the landscape -- taking this house, this tree, and sparing that one, so randomly. At the higher elevations near the peak of the Cascade range, the destruction was much more complete -- not a fern, a pine cone or a tree remaining.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here are a few shots of the destruction:</span></p><p><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9vtY6iihFnY/X5To03KNOcI/AAAAAAAAFkI/DzTLbHz01zU3T0kDiIYmmwqEON6sp60CACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9vtY6iihFnY/X5To03KNOcI/AAAAAAAAFkI/DzTLbHz01zU3T0kDiIYmmwqEON6sp60CACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/IMG_2443.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see the destruction, all the way to the top of the mountains.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SFHf_lBUcZQ/X5To1r5Y5OI/AAAAAAAAFkQ/k-sXgNxSDzEDCWyXIOLz0JrSaFx2U3c_QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SFHf_lBUcZQ/X5To1r5Y5OI/AAAAAAAAFkQ/k-sXgNxSDzEDCWyXIOLz0JrSaFx2U3c_QCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2440.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you see more of a checkerboard pattern, with some trees left alive.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Jdp2GFqbsU/X5To0wrVNTI/AAAAAAAAFkM/lTZ8zHx7qmcQzF6RtSfgoNkSMpL_FjHBgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Jdp2GFqbsU/X5To0wrVNTI/AAAAAAAAFkM/lTZ8zHx7qmcQzF6RtSfgoNkSMpL_FjHBgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2437.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still smoldering, six weeks later.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EfEmarSV6ps/X5ToypXb9UI/AAAAAAAAFkE/M6ayokmj6SwPH3y4hNHnJDI4O4n4ssXXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EfEmarSV6ps/X5ToypXb9UI/AAAAAAAAFkE/M6ayokmj6SwPH3y4hNHnJDI4O4n4ssXXQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2417.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles and miles of it. So sad. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-80041982138497807492020-09-16T15:01:00.000-07:002020-09-16T15:01:25.415-07:00Safe at home<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-an6vnw9qw6g/X2KCPMdde3I/AAAAAAAAFjk/CvYUzB3Ysaob7LBghakZIjj9DQOckxXDACLcBGAsYHQ/s737/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-09-16%2Bat%2B2.22.30%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-an6vnw9qw6g/X2KCPMdde3I/AAAAAAAAFjk/CvYUzB3Ysaob7LBghakZIjj9DQOckxXDACLcBGAsYHQ/w291-h400/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-09-16%2Bat%2B2.22.30%2BPM.png" width="291" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Well, our fire evacuation orders are lifted, we are unpacked and settling in to Part Two of 2020's "Apocalypse: September Edition." Part One was fire, and Part Two consists of air you can taste, smell and even grab handfuls of should you be brave enough to venture outside. It's thicker than Labor Day barbecue sauce, with the same smoky flavor. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But of course I'm just grateful to have a house to come home to, after these fires. And really, saying we've come home is misleading, because we never left. Not even for milk or gluten-free crackers. We were that afraid that the fire might start moving again and we'd be locked out of our neighborhood, and we have pets and livestock to think of. So we stayed put and prayed. We were lucky this time; everything that belongs to us or is loved by us was spared. Many were not so lucky.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This year ... am I right? Just when you think you've gotten a handle on things, it throws you a wicked curveball in the shape of a conflagration fire, a hurricane, or a sharknado or two. We're just missing an earthquake to really wrap up the year properly, but we still have three months to go so don't lose hope yet. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the next century, anthropologists, historians and other scholars will spend entire careers studying this year's history and its impacts. There will probably be entire university departments of 2020 Studies. Professors will ask each other upon meeting, "So, which quarter do you specialize in?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Really, I wonder how most of us will look back on this year. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">For those of us 50 and above, it will hold little storytelling value, as almost everyone we know will have lived through it. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">But for those young people, say 30 and under, they will be the ones who tell the story of 2020 to their kids and grandkids, all of whom will have the good fortune of being too young to remember it. They will also (if they're old enough) be able to tell the story of 9/11, the Great Recession, Hurricane Katrina, and the tsunami that devastated the areas around Indonesia. That's a lot of disaster to have witnessed in to just 20 years. No wonder Millennials are a different sort, who value entrepreneurship above all. Gotta rely on yourself, because who knows what will happen with the rest of the world tomorrow. I get it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Anyway, life marches on -- for us personally as well. My stepson got married on Saturday, so there was a Zoom occasion to celebrate. We came off evacuation status that same afternoon, so there was good news all around that day. And despite the smoke, I've still been able to can eight quarts of tomatoes. So life goes on, just in it's own weird 2020 way. Thanksgiving and Christmas should be interesting, filled with colorful holiday face masks and offbeat, roundabout travel itineraries, as people roadtrip it to grandma's house via car or maybe train. No holiday concerts or performances of The Nutcracker, but still plenty of eggnog to be spiked and prime rib to be roasted. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pretty soon our blue skies should return, too, hopefully not too late to silhouette all the autumn leaves on the trees. And until then, just remember we are almost 3/4ths of the way through this long, strange year. Hoping 2020 ends with a whimper instead of a bang but let's face it, we'd better not count on anything at this point. Stay sharp and be on the watch for sharknadoes on the horizon.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-42215021760347376512020-09-09T15:24:00.000-07:002020-09-09T15:24:32.564-07:00Fire<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Labor Day was a holiday that was unusual in the typical ways all 2020 holidays have been so far. We didn't have friends over, but did some barbecuing for ourselves, and stayed home. In the evening the winds came up, which was bad news because there was a fire in the wilderness east of us, but we went to bed without too much worrying.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">By morning, everything had changed. Big Ag and I both slept in, thinking it was still night, but at 8:30 we realized the clocks were right but....it had never gotten light.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We awoke to this apocalyptic scene:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ehptftW-1rY/X1lVSp58ulI/AAAAAAAAFjE/86WlKkI87vgV3ewyNJ1CGQLMDUvi6vgcACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/62127466026__BC2F788F-D488-4514-BB61-B7AF3AD1F1AD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1422" data-original-width="2048" height="278" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ehptftW-1rY/X1lVSp58ulI/AAAAAAAAFjE/86WlKkI87vgV3ewyNJ1CGQLMDUvi6vgcACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h278/62127466026__BC2F788F-D488-4514-BB61-B7AF3AD1F1AD.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tW2rAsa39Gg/X1lVSF29euI/AAAAAAAAFi8/7Sx47kCSEHcVaiFqeJJVc1UlQ3WahVIJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tW2rAsa39Gg/X1lVSF29euI/AAAAAAAAFi8/7Sx47kCSEHcVaiFqeJJVc1UlQ3WahVIJwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2252.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VudeFSZjQg0/X1lVSUFxufI/AAAAAAAAFjA/ZUquKm5e24gOeXFZCpREQfFwYo1iQcmzgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VudeFSZjQg0/X1lVSUFxufI/AAAAAAAAFjA/ZUquKm5e24gOeXFZCpREQfFwYo1iQcmzgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2259.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HbYh0Jv1kfY/X1lVTY-x1aI/AAAAAAAAFjI/DwaaFqvLPkAD0VFEH_6WxyRY7BnHer-LgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HbYh0Jv1kfY/X1lVTY-x1aI/AAAAAAAAFjI/DwaaFqvLPkAD0VFEH_6WxyRY7BnHer-LgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_2263.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Basically the sun never came up because the wildfires to the east of us exploded overnight, heading in our direction. We checked with Emergency Services for our county, who told us we were already at a Level Two evacuation request, meaning we needed to be packed and ready to go at any time. Level Three means GO NOW. So we spent the day packing our vehicles, making everything ready inside not only for our valuables and sentimentals, but also for our livestock. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We had two things working in our favor. First and foremost was our background as Californians. Long ago, we'd put together three emergency checklists in case of fire -- what to take if we were given 5 minutes to evacuate, one hour to leave, or several hours to pack up. So we worked off the several hours list and got everything packed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The second thing that helped was that we'd moved all the livestock from California to Oregon with us, so we knew how to configure the car to fit everyone in comfortably. It was just a matter of putting it all back together like we were moving again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As of right now, we are still sitting at a Level Two emergency, so we're waiting to see what happens and if/when we'll have to go. We actually plan on leaving once the town next to us goes to Level Three. We won't wait until we are. Until then, I'm trying to keep busy by grocery shopping, canning tomatoes, washing the smoke taint out of my hair, and praying.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">If you are the praying sort, we could certainly use yours right now, as we wait to find out what we'll be asked to do.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-25317300671428458952020-08-19T11:07:00.001-07:002020-08-19T11:07:23.116-07:00Summertime, and the projects are....<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">...plentiful. The projects are plentiful. And that's OK, because once the rainy season comes it will be nice to have all this done. Basically we have about two more months before the rains really set in, which is enough time to finish the outdoor projects we need to before heading indoors to a nice cup of tea and a fire. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It sounds strange, but one of the things I like best about Oregon is that there is little to no winter gardening. In California we grew our lettuces, carrots, broccoli and cauliflower in the cooler months. I used to plant onions in fall for a December/January harvest. Last year I did the same thing and the onions weren't ready until spring. So for me, that was Mother Nature's way of telling me that in winter, things rest here. Including people. Fine by me. </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HSCcPiYS2qc/Xz1n6w5XHPI/AAAAAAAAFiY/fN7tMp6hZCgJzJCabXcPaq-2ZQnOEM_FwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_5190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HSCcPiYS2qc/Xz1n6w5XHPI/AAAAAAAAFiY/fN7tMp6hZCgJzJCabXcPaq-2ZQnOEM_FwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_5190.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For now though, the tomato and cucumber harvests have just started coming in, which means canning. With no working kitchen, this is a challenge, but luckily I have a hot plate inside and one gas burner on our outdoor barbecue, so between them I can get it done. My grandmother said "it's always good to know how to make do with what you've got" and as you probably already know, grandma was/is always right.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And we've had some other, fun projects to work on as well. Big Ag finished the garden fencing and gate leading to the vegetable garden. Eventually we will be putting a nice door on this, but are not sure of the design yet so we'll wait and see how the spirit moves us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I got some awesome mason jar solar lights from my son for my birthday, so we hung those, along with two lanterns I got on Amazon. They all make cheerful light at night without using any electricity, and they shut off at dawn. I won't keep them up year-round, but in summer it sure is nice to see them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I also finished my first barn quilt here, which we'll hang on the tall side of Big Ag's shop once the shop itself is painted in a few weeks. I have a couple of smaller quilts planned for elsewhere around the property, including a compass rose for our pump house. They are so much fun to work on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I guess if there's one upside to COVID it's that with people being home more, they are working on their homes more. Just doing their personal part of keeping America beautiful I guess. Happy to be a part of that.</span><br />
<br />HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-37362528167148636992020-08-02T19:46:00.000-07:002020-08-02T19:46:05.214-07:00The Gift of the Saturn Return<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In this past month, I celebrated a milestone birthday within the maelstrom of all that's going on in the world right now. It was weird, but ultimately, also meaningful. While I'm not a believer in astrology, it's still worth noting that I'm in the middle of the one astrological observance I do give some credence to: The Saturn Return.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Saturn Return is so named because the planet Saturn returns to the same place in its orbit around the solar system approximately every 29 years or so. So for each person, Saturn comes back to the same spot in the solar system it was in when you were born on the cusp of your turning 30, 60 and 90 years of age, respectively. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To astrologers, when Saturn returns to the general region of the sky it was in at your birth, it's considered an auspicious time; a time of reflection and/or upheaval, a rite of passage -- of remembering the things you came into the world to do, and of assessing the progress you've made on the road through life. It can be a turning point, when people set off in different directions than the one they had been going in. Saturn was the god of both old age and renewal. And from birth to age 30, then 30 - 60, and finally 60 - 90, every time Saturn returns to the position it was in at your birth, it heralds a new era of your human experience beginning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We humans spend about a third of our life as young people, the next third as mature adults, and a last third as elders and sometimes even ancients of the tribe. Of course some live longer than 90 years of age, while others do not even make it to the end of their third and final Saturn Return. But in general, for anyone who makes it to age 60 or so, the start of the final third of life is undeniable proof they're closer to the conclusion of their journey than to the start of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As sobering as that is, I actually like the idea of the Saturn Return because, just like with pregnancy, life really can be divided into trimesters -- first, second and third. In pregnancy, the end of the third trimester ends in birth. In life, the end of the third trimester ends with death, or maybe with our birth into the afterlife. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Food for thought, indeed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back to how this year's birthday factors into all this, there's no question that being away from friends and family during this time of starting my last third of life has been very difficult. And so I decided if I couldn't see my family, the least I could do was see the other birthday constant in my life -- the ocean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When times are challenging, the beach always helps bring back proper perspective for me. The ocean was here before I came, and will be here after I'm gone. Everything I see there -- trees, animals, aquatic life, people -- all come to earth awhile, spend some time, and then leave, just like I will. And ultimately, even the ocean will one day end, and so will our solar system, Saturn included. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's good at times like this to take note of the rhythms of nature, which occur regardless of what else is going on. I saw the tide going in and out. I saw the "ghost forest," which are the remnants of a forest of trees felled by a huge tsunami 200 years ago. I saw sand crabs and starfish and otters. In short, I saw lives present and past, all as temporary as my own. The living proceed on with life's business. The remnants of the dead stand to remind us we're not here forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So what is life's business, exactly? I think for us, it means that if we are better and wiser people by the time we hit our second Saturn return at 58-60 years of age, then we've done OK. It's easy to judge yourself more harshly than that and to focus on all your past mistakes and wrong turns, but look at the world. To improve amidst the decay and disorder of the industrial, man-made world is no easy task. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so I'm starting my third Saturn cycle trying to keep it simple: Less anger, more love. Less impatience, more wisdom. Eventually, more family and more friends back in the mix again, once we're through this strange time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">And until that happens, I will continue my walk on this earth, under the night sky where Saturn hangs along the plane of the ecliptic in a familiar place, and alongside the vast ocean which always seems to be there for me, no matter what. </span><br />
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HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-23010175891684589912020-07-11T17:32:00.000-07:002020-07-11T20:09:17.959-07:00Things that cheer me up (and why they don't have to)<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OK, so let's be honest here. These are some of the toughest times most of us have ever experienced (on a collective level). If you lived through WWII, I guess you get a pass, since that was certainly extremely difficult as well (I think of my mom as a ten year-old, sitting in her family's backyard bomb shelter in Central London, hearing the buzz bombs take out every house on the block across the street from hers). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But these times are difficult too, both because of the difficulties themselves, as well as what they've brought to the forefront of our national consciousness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I do fear our current 2020 version of America would never survive a world war and the sacrifices something like that would demand from us. When merely wearing a mask or acknowledging an established medical emergency becomes an opportunity for individuals to express deep personal offense and outrage, I think we need to admit we're in trouble as a nation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But maybe we've known that for awhile already, and this is all just shining a brighter light on it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But here's an odd thing: During the darkest of times, if your personal situation is relatively OK it can become tempting to scold yourself for feeling bad about The State of Everything. Instead of feeling bad, you may try and insist to yourself how lucky you are -- that you have steady income, or a comfortable place to live, etc. I think that's sometimes a mistake, and trivializes some very legitimate negative feelings you may have during such a time as this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every one of us is grieving losses at this point -- even if it's just the loss of companionship/friendship, celebrating milestones with others, gathering with friends and loved ones, and participating in hobbies we used to enjoy. Or just getting a hug from a someone we don't live with. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I take great pleasure in the good things around me, but it isn't always enough lately. Sometimes I feel helpless and hopeless and can fall into a hole of depression for several days at a time, It's like a sense of sadness blooming out from my solar plexus and creating a cloud around me, changing how I see everything. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Part of it is isolation, part is having former activities no longer an option to enjoy, and part is probably boredom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The kitchen apocalypse has not helped any of this; as of this moment we're still down to drywall and floor only, which means the soonest we will have a working kitchen again will be the end of September, and that's optimistic. In a normal year, this is something I'd just roll with, but in a year which already feels difficult it feels a little like an additional insult to injury kind of thing. After all, if you have to live in your house almost 24/7, it's really not too much to ask to have a working kitchen, is it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And the future looks as if it will be even tougher, with COVID cases exploding everywhere, including here in Oregon. So today I'm going to post some things that seem to chase the storm clouds away a little, and give me a little comfort during this time, without demanding anything from me. Hope you enjoy them and they brighten your spirits a bit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thursday Big Ag and I took a trip to the Oregon Gardens to check out their summer flowers, and snapped a couple of shots of these fields on the way. Sometimes just seeing something different makes things seem better, and the fact that 99 percent of nature has no clue or concern about COVID is kind of nice to remember.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My family makes me happy, especially my beautiful mermaid of a daughter. How can you not be happy looking at this smile? We may only speak by phone right now, but knowing the people you love are still out there is deeply comforting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Whatever give you hope and comfort from a faith perspective is definitely something to hang on to at this particular time. I've enjoyed reading books from the Theosophical Society since I was a teenager, and digging out these old books out, dusting them off, and re-learning things I'd forgotten has been very good. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's also a reminder that while hoarding books is a curse and something your children will be extremely annoyed with when they have to clean out all your stuff someday, saving those books you consider essential is a gift to yourself in the future.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ofDLcDW0bo/XwpQBUpd8XI/AAAAAAAAFfo/BGMh1-vmMGk3v3ZcDI3rv37YGfCWIE00gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-07-11%2Bat%2B4.25.10%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="417" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ofDLcDW0bo/XwpQBUpd8XI/AAAAAAAAFfo/BGMh1-vmMGk3v3ZcDI3rv37YGfCWIE00gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-07-11%2Bat%2B4.25.10%2BPM.png" width="190" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A new tablecloth courtesy of Amazon, and some fresh flowers from the garden make the world seem a little more OK. So does refreshing some yard furniture in some blue and green hues to match the Oregon trees and sky. </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YpM3vuU-FQg/XwpROERKtNI/AAAAAAAAFf8/LPc09vTOdgQj79HWxUe62wM8n1fBuZoDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-07-11%2Bat%2B4.53.58%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="1012" height="273" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YpM3vuU-FQg/XwpROERKtNI/AAAAAAAAFf8/LPc09vTOdgQj79HWxUe62wM8n1fBuZoDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-07-11%2Bat%2B4.53.58%2BPM.png" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But lastly, I think the greatest gift you can give to yourself in depression times is not to judge yourself too harshly for whatever you are feeling. If you are getting out of bed every morning, feeding yourself, and paying your electric bill, you are doing fine. All feelings during this time are OK and par for the course, so be gentle with your soul and allow it to feel whatever it happens to be feeling at the moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And don't judge yourself or feel guilty about not being constantly grateful for what you do have. No one is without loss in all of this, and those losses need acknowledgement. In other words, it's OK to feel shitty sometimes, and it's OK to feel good, too. </span><br />
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<br />HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-3130054123779608862020-06-21T10:56:00.000-07:002020-06-21T10:59:30.379-07:00Solstice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mWIiWssmNxY/Xu-QRAaCqqI/AAAAAAAAFcA/ptnCJK8IAecdoer8rnWT5nOolAy9BOIBACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mWIiWssmNxY/Xu-QRAaCqqI/AAAAAAAAFcA/ptnCJK8IAecdoer8rnWT5nOolAy9BOIBACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1722.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Through the troubling times in this country, the one bright spot here on the homestead has been the vegetable garden. Whether it's food on your plate or in the ground, the sight of that kind of goodness always warms the heart, strengthens the spirit and reminds us that no matter what, we all must still eat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">June has been filled with showers and summer-type thunderstorms. It has not been unusual to see pouring rain with thunder and lightning at 10 am followed by bright sunshine and blue skies by 10:30, or by bright sunshine with simultaneous rain, but it hasn't deterred (and may even have helped) all the desired growth and abundance out in the garden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We're up to our ears in snap peas, lettuce and onions, all of which performed beautifully in the cool weather. Surprisingly though, even the tomato plants are happy and have been growing like gangbusters. I started everything from seed this year due to March being filled with COVID concerns, so I feel especially proud of this garden, as I usually rely on at least a few (and sometimes more than just a few) transplants to provide a quick turnaround from planting to eating. But not this year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And last night we sampled the first of our potato crop. My mom told me once that there is nothing more wonderful than a freshly dug potato, cooked and served with some butter and sour cream, and she is absolutely right. Fresh potatoes have a stronger flavor, are creamier and much lighter on the palate than older potatoes are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So here's a little photo summary of all the green goodness.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XXZHrJCvlLM/Xu-bHtJiahI/AAAAAAAAFc4/zXEJfSk5TyQXSEv-5vToxHw9PGdTCFz5wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XXZHrJCvlLM/Xu-bHtJiahI/AAAAAAAAFc4/zXEJfSk5TyQXSEv-5vToxHw9PGdTCFz5wCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1715.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The California Olallieberries are very happy living in Oregon. Plenty of berries on the vines. I'm thinking we could give Linn's in Cambria a run for their money!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IsTN0tpKI5I/Xu-bFeqe4KI/AAAAAAAAFc0/HRmxEvTGcKozy42m_JuSq5g_x-qjEkdIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IsTN0tpKI5I/Xu-bFeqe4KI/AAAAAAAAFc0/HRmxEvTGcKozy42m_JuSq5g_x-qjEkdIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1716.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We have more snap peas than we know what to do with.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TGgIrDmLYBg/Xu-bEJGPvkI/AAAAAAAAFcw/gm-CDzyUYxEykbgDRiGCbZJQBavMWlboACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TGgIrDmLYBg/Xu-bEJGPvkI/AAAAAAAAFcw/gm-CDzyUYxEykbgDRiGCbZJQBavMWlboACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1717.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Baby pumpkins, which haven't even blossomed yet.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5JcEdbLCnF4/Xu-bLOjpsRI/AAAAAAAAFc8/1rpPX-AiI7UUx1IpNS3wewpiLCw5UDukwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5JcEdbLCnF4/Xu-bLOjpsRI/AAAAAAAAFc8/1rpPX-AiI7UUx1IpNS3wewpiLCw5UDukwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1719.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some of our tomatoes -- Roma at the rear and 4th of July in foreground. Plus the irrigation system I just finished installing. We'll use it in July and August, mainly.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Yb_Fqt_JBw/Xu-bLGO8xnI/AAAAAAAAFdA/sWUkSJ9w2BAw4C7CMFZjrOgwKiLbKEDOACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Yb_Fqt_JBw/Xu-bLGO8xnI/AAAAAAAAFdA/sWUkSJ9w2BAw4C7CMFZjrOgwKiLbKEDOACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1720.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some of the onions are going to seed, but we have more than enough so that's OK. I like their cool, spiky alien-ness. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kJhZMtd90EM/Xu-bM61hWHI/AAAAAAAAFdE/DNjL-EO4FhY8DcMhqm_qMnmTL2nRd4s8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kJhZMtd90EM/Xu-bM61hWHI/AAAAAAAAFdE/DNjL-EO4FhY8DcMhqm_qMnmTL2nRd4s8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1721.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wildflowers in one of the beds over the septic system.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHuNwhvsWRI/Xu-bQbQkD4I/AAAAAAAAFdI/KFa1yTWbegQ6lzcsYAVLhR5ovM4FZsY2gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHuNwhvsWRI/Xu-bQbQkD4I/AAAAAAAAFdI/KFa1yTWbegQ6lzcsYAVLhR5ovM4FZsY2gCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1723.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Spiderwort with blue hydrangeas in background</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0prcdWQ2db8/Xu-bQ1mBa9I/AAAAAAAAFdM/DhxXDBK3iR4Xuyy82ttT4_WCzg63aklkACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0prcdWQ2db8/Xu-bQ1mBa9I/AAAAAAAAFdM/DhxXDBK3iR4Xuyy82ttT4_WCzg63aklkACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1724.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I planted five rhubarb plants, and two have really taken off (far right). No cutting any the first year, but 2021 is looking hopeful.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mxaBoNENQ7E/Xu-bRIuunGI/AAAAAAAAFdQ/tJodxc_n9s0p_AtOYEBxT_JEQ3RsA4bkACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mxaBoNENQ7E/Xu-bRIuunGI/AAAAAAAAFdQ/tJodxc_n9s0p_AtOYEBxT_JEQ3RsA4bkACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1725.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My Yuzu tree, brought from California, is doing great!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jYWX_UnNaH4/Xu-expi9vAI/AAAAAAAAFdo/EI9--iGvfV0tmQPCD93IKqWrF_cgrVO9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-06-21%2Bat%2B10.53.45%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="739" height="333" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jYWX_UnNaH4/Xu-expi9vAI/AAAAAAAAFdo/EI9--iGvfV0tmQPCD93IKqWrF_cgrVO9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-06-21%2Bat%2B10.53.45%2BAM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And no photo-heavy post would be complete without an image of a deer peeing in the yard.</span></td></tr>
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HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-1416416396590883102020-06-09T10:25:00.000-07:002020-06-09T10:25:10.241-07:00New Times<font face="georgia"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ONULqieer_U/Xt6eFQAFmCI/AAAAAAAAFX0/h28-nAxCb6E0W2CsOJvE2DWEy-w_hh8PgCK4BGAsYHg/s922/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-06-06%2Bat%2B11.27.37%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="922" height="303" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ONULqieer_U/Xt6eFQAFmCI/AAAAAAAAFX0/h28-nAxCb6E0W2CsOJvE2DWEy-w_hh8PgCK4BGAsYHg/w400-h303/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-06-06%2Bat%2B11.27.37%2BAM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>So every morning I have breakfast in my new dining room, also known as "the garage." I'm not alone, even if Big Ag isn't up yet -- my car is there. I actually think it's been good for our relationship to have some quality time together each day, especially since I'm not driving much anymore. </font><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">I wonder sometimes if my car sits in the garage wondering what it did to cause our relationship to sour. I'll bet most of my shoes and clothes are thinking the same thing. My car and I went from spending five days a week together to maybe a half hour every couple of weeks, which is roughly my drive time to and from the nearest grocery store. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">At the rate we're going it actually may outlive me, or at least outlive my driving years. <br /></font><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K33q8TO9Rxo/Xt6eS2pu-XI/AAAAAAAAFYE/4dIFw_-WEDcyLkwZW5TYQFbQnAvjd_dYgCK4BGAsYHg/s926/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-06-06%2Bat%2B11.27.48%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="926" height="303" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K33q8TO9Rxo/Xt6eS2pu-XI/AAAAAAAAFYE/4dIFw_-WEDcyLkwZW5TYQFbQnAvjd_dYgCK4BGAsYHg/w400-h303/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-06-06%2Bat%2B11.27.48%2BAM.png" width="400" /></a></div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">Our kitchen has also moved to the garage. If I could give any advice to prospective home buyers, it would be to always buy a home with an attached garage -- preferably one large enough that it can pinch hit for a kitchen, extra living space, gym (that you'll never use), or greenhouse/potting shed, when/if necessary. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">Tomorrow I'm going to attempt to blanch a bumper crop of spinach in a big pot on the outdoor burner of our barbecue, which should be interesting since it is probably going to be raining all day. This is the best spinach harvest I've ever had, so I'm not going to let a little kitchen apocalypse get in the way of getting it all put up. I'm already dreaming of yummy winter meals when (hear oh Lord our prayer) all this disorganization, social unrest and global weirdness is in the process of healing and I can take in all the new hope, comfort and warmth from a working kitchen once again. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">It's like what I've been reminding myself most of 2020: The adaptable not only survive, but thrive. It's what I tell myself when I wake up each morning, have coffee and chat with my car, and also before I go to bed and try and fall asleep to the sound of the six industrial fans and three de-humidifiers running downstairs, which is kind of like living next to a C-17 transport plane that's warming up but never goes anywhere. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">We're all just kind of finding our way around the new times. So take some time today to let your friends and your car know you're thinking about them. I recommend a virtual coffee or happy hour for your friends and a new air freshener or a wash for your car. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">But coffee with your car works, too. </font></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-75419711753185651332020-06-04T10:14:00.000-07:002020-06-06T08:02:25.291-07:00The boys are back in town<div>
<span style="font-family: georgia;">The workers may all be in masks, but they are here, as we deal with the kitchen gutting/renovation after our flood. Craftsmen are generally a pleasure to deal with, in every situation. They're almost always pleasantly conversational, have the rockstar confidence that comes from having one great skill they've well and truly mastered, and as an added bonus, they always laugh at Big Ag's jokes, no matter how lame. I should put them on the permanent payroll just for that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Having them around is almost like having a house full of sons again, this cadre of plumbers, electricians, general contractors and remediation specialists who are all working to save what they can in our kitchen and dining room. They all know each other from other jobs, and are part of a group that socializes in their off hours. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">The remediation guy brought a 16 year-old boy with him yesterday -- his daughter's boyfriend -- a lanky kid who would probably be playing baseball if not for it being the Summer of COVID. Anyway, there he was, trying to impress his girlfriend's dad and make some extra spending money by folding himself into an accordian and going down into crawlspaces of all kinds of homes to check for water damage. He'll have stories of fist-size spiders, dead rats with maggots in them and who knows what else when he goes back to school, whenever that is. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">The plumber called us at 9:30 last night and told us he'd just finished a job, was still awake with plenty of energy, and was wondering if we'd like him to pop by and fix our hot water so we could have showers in the morning. He's in his late 20's, unmarried, and as an in-demand essential worker, the world is his oyster right now. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The space formerly known as "the kitchen."</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One little thing, capable of creating a whole load of havoc.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">It's always fun to ask these guys about the worst they've ever seen. The plumber told us about a family who went on a long vacation and had asked an adult relative to check the house weekly. One day the relative came in and used the upstairs bathroom before they left, clogging the toilet. The toilet overflowed and kept running for the next seven days. "It would have been better if there had been a fire, probably," the plumber told us with the thoughtful pauses and colorful language all good war stories have. You could almost see the sagging and collapsed ceilings and ruined furniture in every room after he was done with his tale. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Once they start telling me their horror stories, I always feel better. After all, there are no rats with maggots in my crawlspace, and no collapsed ceilings. But the day is young, you know? These days anything seems possible. Next month could be dead rats, or we could be fighting space aliens. It's been that kind of year.</span></div>
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HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-69317631657242778822020-05-29T11:55:00.005-07:002020-06-01T20:24:54.721-07:00Waterworks<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Do you ever feel like, just when you have everything under control and are the master of your fate, fate pulls the rug out from under you? Of course you do, because that is a hallmark of living on planet earth. It actually makes me believe in an evil force -- a devil if you will -- because the timing of it is always just so freaking perfect. A professional spy couldn't plan sabotage any better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So as you may recall, a few days ago I was waxing purple on the new peace I'd found amid COVID? It was lovely. And then this happened:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes, we have a serious leak somewhere in between the kitchen and formal dining room. It started when I went over to that corner of the room for something and noticed the carpet was wet under my feet. Really wet. We moved the furniture, pulled up the carpet and pad, and found a soaked area about two feet by three feet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>(In a completely unrelated but kind of cool anecdote, I once had a friend with this issue who noticed the problem when mushrooms started growing out of her carpet in a little-used guest room.)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The good news? It's water, not sewage or grey water from the sink. The bad news? It's still slowly leaking, and the one plumber we've had in just said he had no idea where the leak was coming from, and just suggested a mold remediation company to clean up. Which would be great if, in fact, the leak had been stopped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We called the insurance company (our insurance company is USAA, and can I just say we have left a phone message AND filled out a claim, and have heard nothing in 48 hours. Guess you never know who your friends really are until you need them). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We called a second plumber, who will come on Monday morning, and in the meantime, we live with it and keep fans on it to help it stay dry. We may end up having to hire a contractor to tear into the area, bit by bit, until he finds what it is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so here I am breathing and trying to stay at peace through another challenge. It's surely going to be the Murphy's Law of the next year or so...."if the COVID don't get you, the (fill in the black) will." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In our case, the water leak will. Ah well. This too shall pass. </span><br />
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HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-43295079475470083932020-05-27T15:04:00.000-07:002020-05-27T15:04:08.584-07:00Peace, uncovered<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So Big Ag and I are officially in our 12th week of Confinement In The Time of COVID (which would be a great title for a novel if I didn't think 120,000 people were already working on their own novel under the same working title, since so many of us are now home and have the time to pen their Great American Novel).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We've got enough miles in the rearview mirror now that I feel like I can look back, in retrospective fashion, on the evolution of this whole weird, endtimes-ish experience, and see my progress from the beginning until now. Not to imply that it's over. Oh, not by a longshot. At best, we're at the end of Act One of a play of unknown length (and genre). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Month One I was afraid. It was that feeling of going up that long, first climb on a rollercoaster and knowing you're on the ride -- the steep downhill drop coming up -- for the duration. I stayed up too late (too keyed up to sleep), drank too much wine and was subject to trap-door depressions that were very hard to get out of. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the midst of that first month, my eldest son got a probable case of COVID and we had to watch from afar while he rallied and relapsed over about a month's time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Month Two I was angry. Angry at the deniers, the "open up" protestors, and angry at the President and almost everything that came out of his piehole during his so called press briefings on the crisis. Also, I fell slightly in love with Andrew Cuomo during this time. But mostly I was just irritable. Andrew would not have been impressed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So here we are in Week 12 of a global pandemic where we've lost a quarter of a million souls who were all alive on New Year's Day. And I'm not sure how, but lately I find myself going about my days and into my nights with a strange new, weird kind of peace. Not feeling at peace with the lives lost or damaged, of course. But at peace with my place in the world, and the knowledge of my own personal limits to change the course of this virus, or others' behavior. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The trap-door depressions are gone, as are the feelings of helplessness and frustration. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But where is all this peace coming from? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I think it's a combination of adjustment and acceptance. And also, a forced scaling-down of my life to a very easy and undemanding place. To use a cliche, I've noticed I do "stop and smell the roses" more. Without regular lunches out on the town with new friends, I have living room zoom cocktail hours more with friends and family. Bit Ag and I sit and have breakfast, lunch and dinner together almost every day now, which we've literally never done except on vacations. And it's all been great. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The garden is producing plenty of great, fresh food right now -- onions, broccoli, strawberries, spinach and peas, so there's more on the menu. I've also gotten better at just living without whatever the store seems to be out of on any given day. I do plenty of home improvement projects, but on a more relaxed timeframe than I used to hold myself to. I guess I've realized there's no point in the projects if you don't stop and enjoy what progress you've made already.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Somewhere through all this, the house was able to become less of an ongoing makeover and more of a home, to just be relaxed in and enjoyed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, somehow, the repetition of the days, instead of being a source of frustration, is now a comfort. Tomorrow I will rise, I will work and then I will rest. All without artificial deadlines -- without a calendar or a clock to take me to task. The calendar and clock don't means as much as they used to anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And what doesn't get done this week will get done next week, because there's nothing on next week's calendar either. It's a strange time to be sure, but within the strangeness, what a sense of quiet and peace, if I only remember to seek that out instead of my to-do list.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gabriel Garcia Lorca may have found Love in the Time of Cholera, but I seem to have found Peace in the Time of Pandemic. Hope you have, too. But if you haven't I wouldn't worry, because the playbook for what we're going through is literally being written as we live it. There's no correct or incorrect response to it all.</span><br />
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<br />HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-6352379549354196122020-05-08T09:48:00.000-07:002020-05-13T19:53:45.051-07:00Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well, I'm guessing this is probably going to be the most...uh...<i>different</i> Mother's Day any of us have experienced en masse, ever. Oh sure, we've all had Mother's Days that were a bit off. Maybe you had a sick kid, or were sick yourself, or you had that first strange Mother's Day after your own mother had passed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But these days whenever they say, "we're all in this together,"(which is pretty much all the time now; somehow this became the official hashtag of 2020) on this weekend that fact holds especially true. We're all in this strange, new, slightly uncomfortable place -- together. But also apart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Including some moms and kids.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I haven't always had all my kids (two steps, one bio) with me on Mother's Day since they all grew up and spread their wings; but I often had the option to travel to see one or more of them. Or sometimes they came to me. Getting to celebrate Mother's Day with your adult kids is a pleasure not to be missed, in my opinion. All the pleasure and none of the secret work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Secret work, you say? Oh yes. Secret work involves eating the undercooked eggs and overcooked toast your nine-year old brings you, smiling like it's the best thing you've ever had. And then cleaning the scalded egg pan afterwards, because no one gets it clean quite like you do, including your husband. Secret work is finding the right gift to suggest to them (usually homemade) because you know just how much they can actually afford to spend and don't want them to exceed that and deprive themselves of anything. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But once they're grown, it's all up to them. I flew down to see my oldest son last year and we went to brunch at The Sagebrush Cantina in Calabasas, a place I spent many, many nights when I was younger and have absolutely no memories of. (That's how good those days were.) </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ugxo9JVZsEc/XrWL3GiGsxI/AAAAAAAAFRo/R42DkQB8L-8Fn2DTKlQmBSXFqZKtYvn9QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-05-08%2Bat%2B9.40.41%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="350" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ugxo9JVZsEc/XrWL3GiGsxI/AAAAAAAAFRo/R42DkQB8L-8Fn2DTKlQmBSXFqZKtYvn9QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-05-08%2Bat%2B9.40.41%2BAM.png" width="302" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But over time, the Sagebrush, like everything else in Los Angeles, has gentrified. Now the sawdust on the floor is gone and the Sagebrush does an amazing brunch, so my son and I ate our fill of waffles, shrimp and crab's legs, and perfectly done eggs benedict, then moseyed up to the special tequila bar they'd set up just for Mom (a.k.a. me!). And my son and I shared a celebratory shot of tequila sweetened with something delicious and watermelon-y. New memories, and ones that I will actually remember.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I thought, "this is the day I was waiting for, all those years ago." That's right, that day when he grabbed all the cat turds out of the litter box and drew little brown cat-turd portraits all over the laundry room wall while I wasn't looking. The day he took a magic market to my favorite quilt while I was grading papers. The days he came home from first grade crying and I realized the best thing would be to hold him back another year to reduce his stress levels and let him catch up academically. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those days, I dreamed of some future day I could raise a glass, smile at him and think, "well, we made it." Ditto for my stepkids. Stepmoms usually need to earn the right to be called "Mom," and that's not always an easy road. You're the third or fourth wheel the poor kids got in the divorce game of Parent Roulette, and you not only have to worry about instilling discipline and order, you also have to worry about being liked. That's a tough road to travel, and the day your stepkids start spontaneously telling you they love you is a day of honor, believe me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So to the parents of adult kids, moms, and anyone who is like-a-mom to someone, let's look forward to future brunches and a time when the family can all be together. And to the moms of little ones, your day is coming, too. Smile and throw those undercooked eggs in the microwave for 30 seconds, scrape the soot off the toast, and just know that you're loved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It won't always be cat turd pictures and magic marker-ed quilts, luckily. Time will fly, and before you know it, it will be all about the watermelon tequila shots and eggs benedict. And if they're well into their 20's, you won't even have to worry whether they have enough dough to pick up the tab. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Happy Mother's Day, all!</span><br />
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<br />HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7721756258546233776.post-82821463876316879932020-04-29T10:39:00.000-07:002020-04-29T16:30:31.559-07:00Endless Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So for some of us lucky ones who aren't struggling with unemployment or home schooling, 2020 has turned into the year of Endless Summer. (Note: This is also the title of my all-time favorite Beach Boy's album, dealing with the same archetypical idea). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We always used to dream of this back when we were kids; no getting up and going to school or work, weekdays running into weekends then back into weekdays again without skipping a beat, and long, long days when anything you didn't finish today just got moved to tomorrow's agenda. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Even the revolution of the planet is cooperating at this point, yesterday I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to find it was already getting light, and last night it was still dusky after 9 p.m. So the White Nights of summer are on their way, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have to admit that in my childhood dreams of Endless Summer there were more hamburger stands and beaches open. There were parties to attend, clothes to be bought, and new haircuts to try out, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But other than that, yes, this is Endless Summer. Sure, it's actually still spring, but I'm hoping we can get away with just renaming it Early, Early Summer. It seems appropriate that once the weeks start blending into one we may as well just throw in the seasons along with it and call it our endless summer vacation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So Early, Early Summer is currently in all its glory in our parts, and once again I'm stunned by the vibrancy of color that comes out of my garden. I didn't plant all of these plants, but I'm willing to take credit for the difference proper fertilizing, pruning and mulching can make in a landscape. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I mentioned, we planted a tree out back the other day, a Dogwood called "Cherokee Brave." </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And while it is something of a commemorative tree for this current time, it's also a practical planting, because a good shade tree is key to Endless Summer, too: A place to sit with some iced tea and a garden journal on a hot afternoon, or maybe even a strong Cosmopolitan and a bad novel a little later on in the day. Or reverse the order and have your cosmo at 10:00 am. Because Endless Summer, you know?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The vegetables are all up and growing madly, the way they do in Oregon once it stops raining every day. Honestly, I've never grown plants in a place so amenable to the plants themselves. Stand still long enough and some mystery vine or grass will begin covering your feet. It's inspiring and also scary at times, how well things grow here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm currently having way too many virtual Happy Hours with friends. But in Endless Summer, if you're over 21, there must be libations and friendships both new and old. There's a lot of things I'm going to worry about "once this whole thing is over" (favorite phrase of Planet Earth right now). Things like my waistline, my alcohol consumption, and my master-level ability to put things off until another day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I think, for now, I'm just going to be thankful I'm here to enjoy Endless Summer. I don't know what the future holds, but for now it's good in our home, where there is more boredom than worry, and more anxiousness to get out and about than fear of going out and getting sick.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gotta take your Endless Summer wins where you find them.</span><br />
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<br />HotFlashHomesteadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05894953352910455222noreply@blogger.com5