Traveling

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Scenes from a mile high, though we are itching to be in Pittsburgh. Patience.

The hubster loves a diorama! And if you are thinking about dissing the sweatshirt he’s sporting, talk to the hand, peeps. Coors and my Pop’s thirty-plus years driving a forklift in their glass department fed and clothed me and paid for four years of college, thank you very much.

That’s all she wrote…

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The road is home, our truth for the time being. Bound only to each other (tightly, joyously!), our kite aloft, we are no longer tethered to land. A suitcase each in our possession, one bag of shoes, a computer (finally and temporarily connected, huzzah!), and music, always grateful for that (Jonsi and Alex at the moment). Liberating and disconcerting at once. Limbo.

Milo is often confused and more often frightened. He misses the house and Paris (we ALL miss her, though she has visited our dreams). He cries and hides and snuggles close. He would, were there not the lion roar of diesel engines and wild whoops and screams of children happy not to be confined to cramped automobiles, be rather content to explore rest stops on his cute orange leash. But, alas, that is not the way of it, so he remains huddled and car bound while we stretch. All things considered, he is a most excellent traveler.

We have an offer in on a house in Pittsburgh, a gem of red brick construction on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. It is a short walk to the supermarket, library, hardware store, and bank. There is Thai food and pizza nearby, a bakery, too. We’ve had inspections and all looks pretty great for a house more than both of our ages combined. If all continues on this fine path, we will be official Pittsburghers, hearth and home, on December first! Hedging our bets by buying Penguins paraphernalia!

And you? I hope you are well and enjoying fall. Happy Monday!

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Good Monday to you, dear reader. Welcome to the Rogue River and the final installment of our Oregon road trip! I’m happily typing to Jack White – the obsession continues. Thank goodness the hubster likes his music as much as I do.

Mill Creek Falls

Barr Creek Falls

The Natural Bridge

This was once lava!

A living stump, how about that?

Mount Thielsen

Our final stay was at Crescent Lake. Our lodgings were super shabby, but we made up for it, and how, by gliding kayaks over crystal clear waters (under the watchful eye of a Bald Eagle), reading, watching trout leap, eating sweet cherries, and sipping Stein on the screen porch. Life is what you make it.

Diamond Peak

Hey Eugene! How about breakfast at the Morning Glory? Yummy.

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Have you ever seen the movie, Throw Momma From the Train? Well, if you haven’t, add it to the queue, and pronto! It’s a gem of an 80s fil-um. Anyhow, there’s this scene where Billy Crystal is working on a line from a novel he’s writing. “The night was…moist? wet? humid?” He cannot find the right word. Then, curmudgeonly Momma (spectacularly played by Anne Ramsey), says, “The night was sultry.” BOOM! There’s no beating that.

In similar fashion, I was struggling with the title to this post. It’s kind of a hodge podge, four towns plus two mountains. Do I name the towns, skip the mountains? Do I redundantly say Southern Oregon? Call it Part IV? Welcome to the slightly nutty brain of a writer. Then the hubster, a la Anne Ramsey, says, “Southern Locales.” BOOM! There’s no beating that, either.

And here we are, southern locales, the first of which is Mount Thielsen, followed by what I originally thought was Mount McLoughlin but now wonder if it is Mount Bailey. Good grief! I do know that the photos were taken in the Klamath Marsh National Wildlife Refuge, and I find them quite beautiful. Give me a shout if you know what is what.

Lunch break in Klamath Falls:

Another sweet town filled with friendly people and terrific architecture.

For me, Woolworth’s will always be my Grandma Frances. She absolutely loved them, and positively rued the day they disappeared, though she always called them the “Five and Ten,” which, as an often very literal child, made no sense. They were called Woolworth’s and had nothing available at those prices! If ever I was with her and needed something, her go to answer was, “They’ll have it at the Five and Ten.” In addition, and what is also solidly my grandmother, was the case of roasted nuts, or that contraption that spun around under hot lights. We always bought a small bag, usually cashews for me and the red pistachios for her, a near perfect match of her lipstick.

Medford:

The hubster chillaxin’ (Oh yes I did!) at our very nice Southern Locale home base. Funny what makes a person choose a place to stay. I’d always wanted to sit in Corbusier style furniture. So there you go, and it was actually quite comfortable.

Ashland:

It had been fourteen years since we last visited Ashland, which seems crazy, really. It was as lovely as ever, though super hot (107 degrees, ugh) and the Shakespeare did not disappoint. We saw Richard III, which was splendid and marvelously acted. Dan Donohue was pitch perfect as Richard; clever and wickedly funny, had we been wearing socks, he would have knocked them clean off.

And all of that cardboard, etc? That is an assemblage by Dale Muir, on display at the super cool Ashland Art Center. We had a great time wandering around, watching artists hard at work, painting, sculpting, drawing, throwing pots. Pretty neat!

And to Jasksonville, quite possibly one of the sweetest small towns ever!

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Gray’s Butte

Posted at a rest stop on Highway 395, pretty fabulous!

The tiny specks are birds!

Lake Abert

This awesome side car was made by its owner. How cool is that?! He and his wife were traveling with another couple from Iowa for eighteen days around the West and seemed to be having the time of their lives. Isn’t it marvelous to have friends!

The kindly side car passenger took our picture. Thanks!

Our home away from home at Summer Lake Hot Springs, the Paisley. The building is new construction and eco-friendly, with a lot of old and found pieces, very cozy and fine.

The Barn…

…and the pool it houses. Rustic, but much sturdier than it looks. The pool is 104 degrees of heaven, a slippery silica and sulfur-rich water that had us glowing, body and soul.

The barn glowing of its own accord at sunset. Your eyes have not gone googly, either, my tripod must have moved a smidge. I couldn’t bear not to share it.

We stayed two nights, and each morning, I got up before sunrise to watch this bit of magic on the front porch. It was well worth being hassled by insidious deer flies!

Summer Lake Hot Springs, back when I first heard about it, was camp sites and a collection of Airstream trailers. They still have them for rent, if that’s your pleasure.

Like Diamond and the Malheur Wildlife Refuge, there are a lot of birds to be found, and we spent much of our time gazing and listening. I’m pretty sure that’s a Says Phoebe. The egg is from a Barn Swallow. The hubster found it floating in the pool, rejected by its parents after the other babies fledged, ostensibly. Amazing how tiny nascent life can be.

The hubster, reading.

Soak. Eat. Sleep. Read. Repeat.

Do it and be glad!

Ross’s Geese, maybe, happily enjoying the pond. Until…

a mean old Coot (literally!) went Jaws on them. Not cool!

Nighthawk

I don’t know that I have ever been so enchanted by the sky. It dazzled at every hour: sun, whispers of clouds, thunderheads, orange, yellow, red, pink, indigo, full moon, and stars!

Late, for a very important date!

Saving the best for last:

Bald Eagle with prey

Great Horned Owl

Oh, Creation, you astound me at every turn!

 

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