Central Oregon

A quick weekend trip to central Oregon in the middle of the biggest heat wave so far this year - sounds like a good idea! Luckily, cooler temperatures were found at Waldo Lake (Gem of the Cascades!!), where a thunder storm rolled in the same time we did, with the Jeep providing a safe haven for thousands of unhappy mosquitoes who sheltered from the rain courtesy of windows left down while we were pelted on the choppy and totally deserted shores of the second deepest lake in Oregon.

Kees leaping for safety and the call of dried cranberries for all

EC pondering the question of the WWII airplane hidden at the bottom of the lake (according to my friend Gary, anyway)

After getting totally lost trying to find our way back to the Cascade Lakes Highway (about mile 12 on the bumpiest dirt road with HUGE boulders randomly scattered about it that we eventually decided was the safest bet in the direction we mostly wanted to go in; out of nowhere a dusty old white Volvo with a dusty white dog hanging out the window blew past our relatively sedate 20 mph in the opposite direction, leaving me to to marvel at both the wonders of Swedish manufacturing and the faith of youthful males - honestly, a tank would have gotten a flat on this road) and several hours later we found ourselves at Paulina Lake Campground for the night. Not our normal type of camping experience; but it was late and the Jeep was making funny noises. The boys settled into a baseball game, and we feasted on roasted corn, bacon wrapped pork-chops, and some lovely cilantro rice before zipping ourselves into the tent to hide from the mosquitoes for the night.

Note the four-wheeling trails dug with the pulaski for matchbox trucks

Sausages, eggs, pancakes, and Holland Rusk toast

In the morning we rose early and tossed together some breakfast to fortify us for the day ahead and then made the quick trip into Bend after coming down off the crater to pick up some Seafoam for the tank in the vain hope that the engine sputtering was bad fuel. We were the second car in the parking lot at the High Desert Museum, and were lucky enough to make it though all the exhibits inside without even seeing another person. The boys were satisfyingly as awed by the spectacular dioramas as I was at that age, and we took our time wandering through the permanent exhibit as well as the traveling show, Sin in the Sagebrush - a look at brothels in the early west. There was a disclaimer at the entrance warning parents of possible offensive material, but it provided nothing but humor for me. EC inquired why a lady of night would need the small derringer pistol displayed in one of the boudoirs, and I explained the ratio of men to women in the old west and how it might have affected some gentleman's better judgment. He nodded sagely and said "Just like now - a pretty lady's always got to be careful".

The first diorama in the series

The were more excited than they look - lesson: never ask my children to look at the camera

My kind of picnic basket

The leather-worker shop in the village

The boys watching The Lone Ranger inside the reproduction 1960's reservation house

Practicing cursive with the schoolteacher outside the pioneer cabin

The working steam powered sawmill at the High Desert Museum

So deep is my lockout training that I feel guilty about entering the lumber line on a historical reproduction

EC with the rattlesnake

Kees with the lynx - there was the world's most adorable bobcat, too

After an excellent morning at the museum, we headed back down Hwy 97 towards LaPine to Lava Butte and drove to the top of the cinder cone, where the boys chickened out of eating the cricket and bee in the middle of the insect lollipops that they had chosen for short-lived souvenirs from the High Desert Museum. After the cinder cone we got to the most highly anticipated point of our trip - the Lava River Cave. Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! Oh, blessed relief from ninety degree weather! At the entrance (or "topside" as we spelunkers like to say) we rented a propane lantern to guide us on our journey and plunged into the cool dark depths of the longest lava tunnel in Oregon. After a couple sets of stairs down into the collapsed tunnel mouth we rambled the sandy floors almost a mile into the earth, at depths of up to ninety feet underground. At points the ceilings of the cave were almost sixty feet high and fifty feet wide, and the echoes were marvelous. The temperature was probably somewhere around fifty, and so cool that one of the original discoverers (besides First Nation people) Leander Dillman, used the cave as venison storage in the summer months. It also messed up most my pictures, since the flash in the cave would reflect off all of our frosty breath in the air, making it look like we were on set for Ghostbusters. Interestingly, the book I have on the history of the cave says its name was changed from Dillman Cave after a crime of "great moral repugnance" perpetrated by Mr. Dillman - but I have no idea what that may have been. I'm betting it didn't have much to do with getting his meat cool. Or wait...

Looking out over Mt. Bachelor from the top of Lava Butte

Entering the depths of darkness

Descending yet further

The light at the end of the tunnel - the little white dots in the fog of frozen breath are lanterns coming towards us as we return to civilization

After emerging from the darkness back into the furnace, we traveled up to Sisters (the smuggest little down in America), stopping to change the fuel filter, and then over the McKenzie highway back towards home, stopping to dip our toes in the water and wash all the gasoline off Andrew. 635 miles later, we drove back into the blessed mist of our own dear coastal weather and parked the still spluttering Jeep in it's spot in front of the cabin. Trip accomplished!

The boys at the end of the "gopher tunnels" in the High Desert Museum playground

Who needs March?

It came in like a lion and its going out like a lion, too. IT SNOWED at my childhood home in the coast range on my birthday (April already) to prove it. After the very cold weather, I am afraid that the pepper and tomato seeds have rotted in their trays. I'm only seeing good germination on fennel, chervil, quinoa and the bizarre zolyushka hybrid potato seeds I trying out this year. Perhaps the plan to use the food dehydrator for a little extra warmth and air circulation in the greenhouse came too late. But when to pull up the pots and try again?

An unexpected delight was pulling off all the tight dandelion buds we could spot with K and EC, who loved it. It was more fun than an Easter egg hunt. All the joy of looking with out the childhood stress of possibly overlooking chocolate.We packed the buds in salt and brine. The next time they visit we'll have pasta with dandelion pickles! I think they will bloom when tossed into a hot saute pan, just like capers.

Hopefully the driving rain will give way soon and more peas can be planted along with a second sowing of lettuces. Maybe this is the year for direct seeding all the heat loving plants.

Parsley: vegetable not biodegradable garnish

Yesterday I wished that I would ever see where the morning sun falls in the yard I moved into almost three months ago. There have been moments of sun in the past few months, just not ever simultaneously a)when I'm at home b) before noon c) when I'm awake.

Today it is glorious, and all I've done is argue with the trash company. It's enough to make you cuss.

Time to fill a fashionable bright blue "tub trug"(known from now on as a bucket) with soil amendments, tools and seeds. The bucket has only ever used for laundry before. But now I have energy slaves for that and can go queening around the garden spreading slug bait. Organically approved slugbait guaranteed safe for pets and wildlife. Don't want too many civilian deaths before I reach detente with order Insecta. Now to plant peas and hope they grow faster than slugs can eat them. Also breadseed poppies and hope its cold enough for them to germinate. Also more parsley. Can you have too much? It is my favorite green food. Recipes sure to come when there are more leaves than I can eat by myself in the yard.
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Ant Invasion

I must become a better person. A good person who takes her breakfast plate back to the kitchen instead of leaving it next to the computer. to potentially attract ants to yet another surface of the house. It's no enough that they are running their little ant highway to the poison station on the mantel, and filling the woodbox as well. Now there are ants ranging along the kitchen windowsills, the wall by the door AND THE KITCHEN TABLE. All is not well. New poison station on the kitchen windowsill, even though Miso Kitty is fascinated by the ants chain ganging up the wall and may cover her paws in borax tetra-something and simple syrup while batting at the insistent little crawlers.

Terro ant poison seems the least potentially toxic to dogs, cats and visiting children. Low mammalian toxicity might not be the *ultimate* criteria since apparently it gives the little formicids all sorts of gumption (enough to get lots of poison food back to the nest, to die there, twitching their stinky feet in agony, I can but hope). They have invaded 3 rooms in as many days. If I find ants in the bedroom I may be the one twitching my feet in agony.

A more positive person might associate the new ant activity with the 3 inch high peony shoots. Great circle of life, no blooms without bugs, the turning of the year, etc, etc. But I'll shake the peonies open in May myself if that's the price of an ant free kitchen.

Speaking of karma, how many mason bees must I nurture to compensate for formicidal tendencies? Will I ever achieve enlightenment in this lifetime?

Here we are now

Tonight we made thai chicken soup, coconut rice, and green beans for dinner. N1 is an eight year old dart prodigy and we're sitting down to eat!