Red Rover On The Road Some More

(I think it appropriate to say that I'm on the road TO some more.)

I left my home in Georgia  Washington and headed for the 'Frisco Bay The Beehive State where I landed for a couple of weeks before heading off to enchanted New Mexico for a couple of months where I left again for Ogden where I am today and where I'm getting ready to go back to Roswell, land of aliens and sage brush for another little while before coming back here for a bit more permanency. 

A little late in posting and a few additional things have transpired.  I guess I thought I would add more to this one, but time got into a flurry.  I'll probably just keep making stabs at catching up for a while.

"When You're Finished Changing, You're Finished." Benjamin Franklin

Yesterday was September equinox...the season of transition, and after my very warm summer, yesterday was the first day I actually felt so cold that I was uncomfortable!  I didn't expect to need to be more appropriately dressed for the season, so I got caught in the rain wearing shirt sleeves. 

Desmond and I spent the day together, staying warm on my bed watching movies, eating blueberries and bananas, and playing games for a while, and then going out to look at pumpkins.  Here in Northern Utah, we have a wonderful stretch of old highway known as the Fruitway, dotted with orchards and farm stands which fairly bulge with harvest bounty.  In town also, is a local farm stand and the grocery stores also carry a lot of local produce this time of year.  To me, it's paradisiacal. 

Since the first time I asked Desmond to help me pick out a watermelon, that's what watermelon shopping is...helping Bayou (me) choose the melon...even if that's not necessarily what we came for.  If there are boxes of melons on display, he marches confidently to the heap, pats or taps the melons, or as he did yesterday, straight-up picks up a small one, and announces, "I choose this one," turning to the next task.  Fait accompli. 

We also picked up some corn, to add to the September celebration we're having later today.  My mother and my grandson both have birthdays this week, and we have other family birthdays in September, so the sheet cake will have a few names on it!  Or we'll have a few cakes, more like!

The last several months have been bursting at the seams with various activities of transition.  I retired, I moved to Utah, I traveled to and from New Mexico a few times to help my mom prepare for her big move and to attend a lovely, sunny mountain wedding.

We took a couple of little road trips in between packing and organizing.  Bonito Inn, now a tourist B&B, was a place Mom lived in as a little girl in Lincoln, New Mexico.

Stephanie and Greg's wedding near Durango, CO.

My sister and her husband built a sweet little "independent" apartment for my mom to move into (in their home) and traveled down there to bring her back up to Ogden, and others of our family gave extra labor, love and money towards the "event."


I'm going to chronicle, later in more depth, those changes we've been navigating, and for now, this is about today; the day after equinox, when we are winding down and settling in a bit, accepting some peaceful moments, harvesting the fruits of our summer labor, literally and symbolically, and feeling gratitude for hard-working, hard-loving family, for living on the earth, for the miracles that buoy and see us through. 

I like change. 

A Little Wedding Under The Madrona Tree

In the sand at Boston Harbor Marina

On a sunny day in July, 2016

It was very sweet. 

(I don't have the photo album at hand, so no pictures of the rest of us! Maybe later.)

Oh My Poor Neglected Blog!

I blame Facebook.  And Russian hackers.

And maybe this colorful little chirper, a bit, as well.

I bought a little notebook as an experiment to see if writing diary entries was as much of an addition to my mental well being as it used to be when I kept prolific journals.  Then I stumbled upon the practice of bullet journaling and have combined agenda organizing and diary entries into this notebook.  So far, I give the experience about a C+, harboring the aversion I seem to have to making agendas for myself.  Not to worry, though, I haven't stooped to making "goals." I prefer secret wishes.

Before the advent of word processors, of course, I wrote and wrote and wrote everything out longhand.  I felt it to be quite therapeutic and revelatory.

Then I bought a word processor (not a PC or laptop) from the Wards store at Serramonte Center in Daly City, CA sometime in the late 80s.

I bought it to help me write my first novel, which I am proud to say is still an unfinished masterpiece. It was great for journaling, as well.

And the rest of the story, as it were, is no mystery, technology being what it has become. 

The next few entries will be an attempt to make up the dearth or at least fill in a few gaps.

Port Gamble, Pecans And Possibilities

Is it too early to exclaim, "Oh my!  It's fruitcake weather!" or is it a moot question, now, as I have done just that? 

One great disappointment I have felt recently is the fact that Port Gamble's Country Christmas celebration will no longer showcase Washington's only fruitcake contest.  And when I say fruitcake contest, I do not mean fruitcake-throwing contest like the ones you will find at some cretinous activities during the holidays. They eliminated the contest from the celebration the year I had decided to enter my Texas Orange Slice Cake, with accompanying story of its origin.  That was part of the judging-the story behind the cake.  Part of the appeal to me, of course, is the misguided bad reputation that fruitcake has and it was my intention to help facilitate the reversal of that stigma, in whatever small venue with which I was presented.  In this day and age, winning a fruitcake contest would be neither glamorous nor brag-worthy.  Precisely the reason I wanted to enter and win!

Port Gamble, WA is an historic mill town situated on the shores of Hood Canal on the Olympic Peninsula.  It's a nostalgic little acreage showcasing turn-of-the-century buildings filled with shops and New England style houses on maple and elm tree-lined streets.  They host several attractive events throughout the year, such as a paranormal conference, dinner theater performances,  and the aforementioned Country Christmas sans fruitcake contest.  (Now they have only one only special thing that no one else in Washington has and that is fireworks at Christmas.) If I lived closer, I would probably go to the theater to see "Clue The Musical."

Here's how I was planning to enjoy an old-timey, country feel, seaside ambient Christmas revelry fruitcake contest:

Earlier in the year my family had a reunion in the village of Ruidoso, NM in the Lincoln National Forest Sierra Blanca Mountain Range.  I couldn't breathe very well at 7,000 feet, being used to living at sea level for so long.  I'm just putting that out there for no special reason or tie-in to the story.  I had mentioned to my mother a while before that I wished I had some New Mexico pecans to put in my cake that I didn't know at the time I was not going to even make.

New Mexico is famous for her pecans, arguably the best pecans nation-wide!

I was going to try to buy some when I was in NM for the reunion, but my mother's neighbor had a load of windfall pecans in her back yard that she would gladly give to me.  I was driving with my brother and sister-in-law, Katy and Desmond and all of our "stuffs" in one vehicle.  Were you counting?  That's five people.  With many stuffs.  And an extra load of pecans...big bags of pecans. To me, they were worth it.

On the border between New Mexico and Colorado, in a town called Cortez, is Cortez Flour mill, where they mill Bluebird flour, reportedly the only flour you should use when making Navajo Fry Bread, if you care at all about being authentic.  I don't know about being authentic, but I do know that I have won several bread baking prizes at the fair when using that flour.  Of course, I needed that for my fruitcake as well.

And then we spent some time in Utah, where I continued filling my fruitcake coffers, this time with Montmorency dried cherries from Woodyatt Cherry Orchards in Willard. Katy and I both have won fair prizes with out pies made from these cherries. 

Living in Washington, I found some local representative ingredients from Simply The Best Northwest Dried Foods. Using fruits grown in the Omak region of Washington and a wood-fueled dehydrator, without adding anything else, they had just the ticket to round out my ingredient list.  (The orange slice candy could actually come from anywhere.  I know the cake is named for this ingredient, but come on...it's just jellied sugar!) Something from five states I've lived in, if you include the name of the cake. 

How could my fruitcake not take the prize at Port Gamble?!  I mean...well, if there was going to be a fruitcake baking story-telling contest in Port Gamble, WA., I definitely had a chance!

We got back from the reunion trip in April of that year and I still had several months ahead of believing in fruitcake. 

To be continued...

Two Good Things and Too Bad

    Good Thing #1. It's not really a Christmas post already, although if it were, it wouldn't be the first I've seen this season.  This is a little story that wraps itself around me like a homemade afghan on a chilly fall evening.  Last year we returned to Don Tapio's Christmas Valley Tree Farm to cut our own tree again.  Katy really, really likes real trees for Christmas and I understand her.  I used to feel the same way. 

      As usual, we spent a few minutes catching up with our tree farmer, listening to news about his 90+ year-old mother, and how life was treating them after a series of very misfortunate events. (I might share some more about that at a more appropriate time.  It's not such a warm story.) 

     Then we headed out to find that little made-just-for-us Christmas tree we knew would be waiting for us.  I had visions of sweet symmetry, with enough space between the branches to show off some red and golden glass ornaments.  I don't know what Katy was looking for.  We know we have our own ideas and we know that however different they may seem, we always agree on  just the right tree when we see it.  Usually, it takes a bit of discussion and circling the tree and pulling up a bottom branch or two and asking each other, "Whadd'ya think?"

     We poked around, traipsed around, chased Desmond around and found a few "almosts," trees that other years would have made the grade, but something just kept spurring us on, in a subtle, nudging way. 

     And then...there it was like a beacon one second and then just a tree the next second, but never only just a tree for very long.  The three of us stopped mutely at the same moment and decided this was our tree.  It had drawn us in.  There was a whole forest left that we hadn't even seen yet, but why would you keep running after the ball if you've already caught it?  We didn't even need to discuss it. We just really liked it.

   Katy cut it down, with oh-so-much help from Desmond and direction from me, and we started back up the path with it.  Don looked up and rather than wait for us to come to the bailing machine as in years past, he hurried down the gravel to meet us.  He was exuberant and told us we had artistic hearts for choosing that tree...the kind of artistic hearts that reached out, artistically, to other things about life, as well.

     He had only a handful of that particular tree on his farm, and most people don't choose it, but to him, it's the prettiest tree he grows!  (And just so you know, I've already told this story to someone who said, "I'll bet he says that to everyone," so no need to go there.  I just know it ain't so.  There was no need to flatter us and I might have thought he was just saying stuff to make us feel good, if it weren't for the fact that I knew that tree was all he said it was.)

     It was a corkbark fir, with silver-white blue and green needles that picked up and played with the lights we put on it later.  You can tell from the picture that it is indeed a lovely tree, but I know you can't really see what made it all that special, unless you can see into our four hearts just by looking at the pictures.

Don Tapio, Christmas Tree Farmer

Good Thing #2.  Katy doesn't live with me any longer, (that's not necessarily the good part) and she and Desmond live with Jesse who already has two cats. (That they are a family--married this summer--now is good for them all.)  Desmond likes cats, whether they always like him or not.  They've been together in that house with those two cats now for less than a year, and just the other day Katy told me this story:
     "I just adopted a cat!!!  And I looooooove my new baby!!  We went to the Utah State Fair Park to the 'no-kill' Utah adoption thing.  Went straight to him and knew immediately he was mine.  They said I was the first person this whole time to really notice him.  Desmond has told him he is his best friend.  He never said that to the other cats!  Desmond is so happy about it...Gosh I love him.  He was so mellow and scared at the fair that no one was really paying attention to him.  But he was just sitting, taking everything in being so incredibly calm.  He's special.  The lady there started almost getting choked up that someone really saw him."
     I told her, "kind of like our Christmas tree."
     And she said, "exactly.  You gotta just be led."

 Hmmm, I wonder...what would you just have to call a handle-bar mustachioed cat with gem-green eyes?

Bonjour! Rencontrer Hercule Peridot:

Enfin, TOO BAD they don't make this candy bar anymore.  If they did, I would call it good thing #3.

Some More California Coast Favorite Memories: Monterey, Et Al

This is another post specifically to show certain members of my family who are taking a trip to California from Utah to go to a 49er's game this month.  Of course, they've already planned their 4-day itinerary, but I still can't help myself from injecting a couple or so ideas they might be able to at least look out for.  For example, they are going to the aquarium in Monterey, but I happen to know it doesn't have to take a whole day to see the aquarium, as wonderful as it is.  And it is a doozy, all right!

(Also, this is another post where I have borrowed pictures from the internet because all the pictures I've ever taken there are actual prints stored away in boxes that are not at my ready at this time.  Just clarifyin'.)

On the way south, rounding the bend in the highway approaching Half Moon Bay, less than an hour out of San Francisco, the ocean comes in to mighty view (again, because it's mostly in view all the way, and then you can't see it for a minute, and then whoosh, there it is again!) and on the opposite side of the road are pumpkin fields. This surprised me so much, I wrote a poem about it once.  Or at least tried to write a poem about it.  It wasn't very good...or poetic.  I don't know what made me think I should try to write a poem about something that was already poetry.

Eventually, they might notice the iconic artichoke fields, although maybe they look just about like any other field at this time of year.  I love to see them when in cardoon season:

Right around the corner, actually almost in Monterey, in Pacific Grove, is the entrance to 17 Mile Drive.  Can't miss it.  And you shouldn't miss it.  It won't let you miss it.

As long as you're on 17 Mile Drive, take a second to drift into Carmel-by-the-Sea.  (I know it's mostly known simply as "Carmel," but that is just not as romantic or historic a name, is it? I mean, when I was a kid growing up in the desert, I didn't dream about visiting Carmel.  I yearned to be by the sea in Carmel-by-the-Sea!  Big difference!)  

If, while you're there, you happen to cross paths with my old friend Clint, ask him to play Misty for me!

Hahahaha...Oh Man, I just couldn't resist!

You should have time to, and it would be a shame if you didn't, visit the Mission San Carlos Borreo del rio Carmelo. 

I have a picture of Dad by this mission.  I think Katy and Jillian are in the picture, too.  We went there at some point, the four of us.

I've taken too many road trips between San Francisco and Big Sur with family and friends to keep them all straight in my head and am having difficulty remembering exactly which stops I made with whom. 

Some of us went camping on Thanksgiving at Big Sur, some of us kayaked in Monterey and Santa Cruz, some of us stayed in the kitschy-pink Lover's Point Inn in Pacific Grove and listened out the window across the way to the otters crack their dinner on rocks balanced on their tummies, some of us attended a retreat at the Quaker Center in the Santa Cruz mountains.

Fourth of July fireworks out over the ocean in Half Moon Bay, twilight concerts on the beach in Santa Cruz,  hiking in sand dunes at Ano Nuevo State Park to see the elephant seals and being surprised by a squeaky mouse struggling to get out of a snake's opened-mouth death grip. 

Once I was sitting on the sand, looking for sea glass while Katy and Kaid swam in the bay in Monterey.  I looked up and saw 12-year-old Kaid a few feet in front of me, looked back down to find more glass, looked up again and Kaid had been replaced by a sea lion pup! 

It's just kind of magic, that part of the world and those moments we experienced. 

And, oh yes:

It's just so fun!