Because of our ever changing schedule, after leaving the organic winery in Carlton, we were at relatives in Turner, Oregon and, according to that day’s plan, we had one more day to visit before leaving for our next WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities On Organic Farms) adventure.
I’m more of a loner than a person who likes to be surrounded by crowds, but what a great time we had. The house was filled with cousins and their kids on Saturday, with dinner more like a big outdoor picnic than the sit down, dining room table affair it was. The kids had an early soccer game the next day and the house quieted down just after 9:00 pm. On Sunday the sky was blue with a few white clouds over the hills. All of life is an adventure, if we choose to see it that way.
We’d been eating out a lot. Once a month is more than plenty for us. With all the traveling, once a month had turned into once, twice or more per week because others wanted to eat out, time restraints intervened or it took too much away from our limited time for visiting. The last night in Turner, we ate out again. The food was good, but eating out was taking its toll on our energy. We left on Tuesday, not as we’d planned, headed north on I-5 and then, in order to miss as much of the Portland traffic as possible, east on the I-205 cutoff. When we got to Troutdale, we filled the car with gas and, because of our late start, we ate out again. Not a good meal, tasted OK but really drug me down, as in low energy and the feeling of being drugged.
We chose the scenic route, the Old Columbia Gorge Highway, to the mad mouse mindset on the freeway. We made lots of stops for walks, pictures and to stretch tight muscles. Multnomah Falls, Horsetail Falls and one of the tunnels, drilled through solid rock when the old highway was first constructed, were only a few of the many photo opportunities along the way. We arrived in Mosier, Oregon, at the farm that was our next stop, late in the day. We unloaded our gear, got acquainted with our host, ate dinner and settled in for the night.
The first day’s work was picking edible flowers and tomatoes, then getting everything ready for market. After work, Celinda and I went to Hood River, where there are lots of windsurfers, aka sailboarders, and kite boarders. We found a cyber cafe with a hi-speed Internet connection and got our computer work done. The connection at the farm was slow and it wasn’t possible to hook my laptop to the Internet. On our way back to the farm, I got some good pictures of windsurfers and kiteboarders. The pictures are posted on www.smalltownswest.com.
I was surprised that most windsurfers, and all the kiteboarders that I saw, were wearing crash helmets and other safety gear. It makes sense. You’re going really fast and landing head first on the board with a crash, could be dangerous or even deadly. The last time I was through there, I was in a kayak on my way west to the ocean and then south offshore, and I don’t remember seeing crash helmets, etc. I’d like to sail the gorge in a fast boat. I’ve presented the idea to Wade, the skipper I sailed with at Eagle Lake, California.
With camera ready, I watched one kiteboarder who was consistently going fast and getting airborne. Even though I didn’t have my telephoto lens, I got a couple of pretty good pictures. In one, he’s about ten feet above the water. In another, when the wind changed and his kite collapsed, he made what might be a kiteboarder’s answer to irregularity, a high speed, butt first reentry. If my shutter finger had been a nano second slower, I’d have gotten a picture perfect jackknife, head up, arms stretched overhead and feet pointed skyward. It would have been worth framing.
At Mosier, it was warm during the days but cool at night. By midnight it was necessary to crawl under the sheet, but we didn’t need covers. I got a lot of beautiful sunset and moonrise pictures from the windows of our second story bedroom and, as a bonus, we had a nice late night breeze.
On our second full day, I changed the oil in the tractor, dug garlic, which was almost nonexistent because of the gophers, and harvested parsnips. Apparently, gophers don’t like parsnips because there was a bumper crop. The garlic, what little there was, went into a bucket for seed in 2009. After harvesting the parsnips, I trimmed off the stalks and the bottoms of the roots and still had two, overflowing five gallon buckets. We had some for dinner and they were sweet and delicious. I didn’t spend a lot of time with my camera; pictures of parsnips are really boring.
French toast with edible flowers…UHHMM. Carolyn, the lady who owns the farm had discovered, or invented, a really good French toast recipe. She mixes edible flowers in with the batter, and it was on the menu for dinner.
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