Can It!

 

I played hookie from boxes again yesterday. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. It started innocently enough with a trip to the Portland Children's Museum in the morning, and then my husband came home with a couple roaster pans full of fresh blackberries he had picked himself after work. The blackberries are everywhere here and ripe for the picking. The new job site that is being readied for development has rows  of them, so I'm told, and my if my dear hubby is willing to pick through the prickly thickets for them, then I'll just have to leave the unpacking for another day. Oh darn.

I know canning should be the last thing from my mind right now when my house is still in purgatory, but I think I needed to make time and all the madness stop for a few hours. I feel closer to my family when I'm going through the process, closer to myself when I'm crafting something. Plus, I made the movers pack all those jars and canning equipment and it wouldn't be right to just let all their hard work go for nothing.

I grew up on a farm watching my mother preserving fruits and vegetables for most of my life, and her mother before, and I'm sure it's a ritual that's been passed down for several generations. I'll admit that I had no patience for it as a youngster--that, and gardening. My mom often recalls how if she ever wanted time to herself, she'd just make her way to the garden and spend as much time there as she wanted haggle-free. For, you see, if you stepped into my mother's garden, you were given a job. If you stepped into the kitchen at canning time, you were given a job. I made the mistake of complaining of boredom one day and having to help peel the skins off tomatoes and peaches before they could be sliced, diced, pureed, or what have you. I quickly learned that standing at the sink and getting my fingers full of slimy gunk was not my calling, and "I'm bored" was as good as a four letter word around our house.

The work isn't any less tedious or messy now, I'm just better at appreciating the rewards for my patience. The soft 'plink' of the lids as they cool and finish their vacuum seal always brings a satisfied smile to my face. Nothing compares to going to the pantry in the middle of winter and pulling out a jar of summertime. It holds all the memories of how hot it was when the produce was picked and how hot the kitchen was that day and who was with you and where you were and how you came about the fruits and vegetables...and maybe even what you should have been doing that day instead.

~Paula

Follow Me, Guys!

We've spent the week trying to decide which direction we would head this weekend to explore new territory. After throwing out a few possibilities, we chose to take a day trip to the Multnomah Falls area just east of Portland; thirty minutes to an hour drive, depending on how much you want to see in between. Our trip began to unfold with the discovery of our wicker picnic basket in a box out in the garage. Originally a wedding gift that (sadly) never got as much use as once dreamed, it immediately had the attention of our children in the hopes that they could be the ones to enjoy some gourmet ham and cheese sandwiches out of it. Well, I was able to supply the ham and cheese part of the sandwiches, anyway. I'll leave the gourmet for another lifetime.

Wahkeena Falls

With sandwiches and goodies carefully packed and ready to go, we took the semi-scenic route off of I-84 and made our way to the falls. Just before we got to Multnomah Falls, however, we discovered another waterfall that had been mentioned in some of the information I'd been reading about our destination and decided stop there first "just to get the kids warmed up." Three miles up a trail and three miles back down said trail, we were sufficiently warmed up and ravenous for the contents of our picnic basket. At that point, it could have been a paper grocery bag for all we cared. As long as it had food in it, no one would get hurt.

Fairy Falls

It was a fabulous diversion. We had stumbled upon Wahkeena Falls. If you like to hike, then I highly recommend starting at the Wahkeena Falls Trailhead and let your little legs start walking like we did...just make sure you've got a bottle or two of water along, unlike us. It wasn't until we came upon beautiful little Fairy Falls and I had taken close to 200 photos that we realized the small-ish waterfall 1/4 mile into the beginning of our trip was actually THE Wahkeena Falls and we were still on the long trail toward Multnomah. AND it wasn't until we got back down to the parking lot and the van containing our glorious picnic basket (I swear we were only propelled forward by the thought of food and water by this time) that we realized the point where we had finally decided to turn around--Larch Mt. Trail--was three miles up the trail we had just descended.

Always Read The Trail Signage

So, to recap--we had essentially just taken a four-year-old and a six-year-old hiking for the first time up three miles of switchbacks and back down over a timespan of not quite 2 1/2 hours. And we were all still upright. No one was bleeding. And we were all still speaking to one another. And a little giddy...definitely tired, but giddy from realizing what we had just unwittingly accomplished. Had it not been for the fantastic views every direction you looked and God-sent benches strategically placed along the way, we would have never made it as far up as we did.

And who else but my four-year-old son was leading the way the whole time. We often had to tell him to stop and wait for us to catch up. Other times, he would make us stop to pick up a rock and throw it in the water or be the one to tell us how beautiful the river was as it rushed past us on the trail. When he wasn't pointing out the lovely things around us, my daughter was greeting every hiker we passed in what she assumed was their native language. "Hola!" and, "Nai hao!" were among the most commonly used.

Multnomah Falls

We eventually did make it to Multnomah Falls, and it was well-worth the short drive there (hiking not being an option anymore). It's an impressive but delicate 611-foot waterfall that conjures up images of elves and shires and hobbits. We had already been enchanted by this point though, and the hoards of people that had decided to spend their Saturday afternoon driving around drove us back into our van and down the road again.

We took the ultra-scenic way home on old Highway 30 along the Columbia River Gorge. The fresh air and quiet, winding curves soon lulled our little hikers to sleep the rest of the way. It was a day filled with sensory nourishment.

~Paula

Roger that, we have silverware.

It's official, we have found the silverware! It only took us six days of unpacking, but we finally freed our little bundle of stainless steel joy from the bottom of a nondescript brown box simply labeled "KIT". Who knew a simple staple of the home could become such a miracle of creation after having completely gone missing for almost a week? Up until now, we've been getting by with the "other half" of our silverware drawer that included the toddler forks and spoons and a random bag of spoons and salad forks that I had squirreled away years ago when I couldn't fit them into our utensil drawer on the farm--cast aside and left for useless until now. You have served your family well, Dora fork and Spongebob spoon. Get some rest, my friends. The varsity team has finally arrived.

Monday, in celebration of successfully getting both kids registered for school before 9:00 a.m., I took the day off from boxes and the kids and I went to the Oregon Zoo while my husband was working. What a lovely place to play hookie. A small, antique diesel engine train takes zoo visitors for about a half-hour ride through the zoo and adjacent Washington Park. I couldn't help but feel all the tension and worry subside while winding our way through the moss laden trees and ivy covered ground. This is a beautiful area of the country, and I get to explore it for a little while. Life is good.

Oregon Zoo ~ Washington Park Railway

The Dinosaur Walk was also another big hit with the kids. With all the robotic dinosaurs and sound effects, it was easy to forget that the 30 foot T-rex appearing as you walk around the bend wasn't actually going to start running after you Jurassic Park style. My daughter was even instructing her little brother to hold completely still so it wouldn't sense our motion and go on the chase. I'll have her on my dinosaur survival team any day.

That evening, my husband and I were watching our DVR selections (and yes, Kristin H. and Jamie B., it has changed our lives) and this strange noise started outside our window. I had to listen for a long time before I realized it was raining. This is the first time I've heard it rain since we've moved here and the first time I've heard it rain here ever--even including when I was to the Portland area at the end of April and beginning of July on our house hunt.  Mind you, I have yet to see it rain, so I'm still wondering what all the fuss is about. The neighbors have requested to revisit this discussion in February. They seem to think "a little snow" doesn't sound too bad after a winter of drizzle and grey. Bless their little hearts. Hopefully my gleeful grin will be seen from space come March when the grass is green, not white, and the trees are budding, not naked skeletons bracing against another late winter squall passing through. I may just turn into Mary Friggin' Poppins and fly a kite.

I'll leave you tonight with a short video from our visit to the zoo. The kids (okay, my four-year-old) had a short attention span for visiting most of the animals, but they were loving the sea lion exhibit.

~Paula

And Then There Were Four

Today marks one week since we arrived in Portland and the first day we are officially a party of four.  My sister arrived Friday night to escort my niece back to Minnesota on the plane, and it was a teary goodbye at 5:45 a.m. this morning.  It's sink or swim time, I guess.  We've enjoyed having Dayna here this week and will miss her much, especially not knowing for sure how long it will be before we'll be able to visit with my sister's family again.

While they were both here this weekend, though, we showed them around downtown Portland.  The first stop was Voodoo Doughnuts, Too, a kitchie bakery famous for their unique take on the breakfast favorite.  We had fun choosing exactly which gut bomb we wanted for own, including the Voodoo Doll, Bacon Maple Bar, Dirt Doughnut (Oreo cookies on top), Texas Challenge (the size of 6 regular doughnuts--if you can eat it in 80 seconds, you get your money back), and I'll just let the picture of the last doughnut speak for itself.

After eating as much sugar as humanly possible, the ladies headed to 23rd Ave.  It reminds me a lot of Grand Avenue in St. Paul with many boutiques, shops, and eateries lining both sides of the street.  We loaded up on a cup of gourmet tea (which we decided smelled too much like straw bales to really get into) to pass the time until the shops actually opened and then started our trek.  We spent a good amount of time in a few variety and import shops and a wonderful costume jewelry store called Pinky Jewelry.  Dayna was even able to get a feather extension while there.  I will be making a trip back to Pinky's, guaranteed.

We ended our Saturday with a short drive along the Columbia River Gorge.  It was a hot day by Pacific Northwest standards, so there were lots of boats out on the river and the view was spectacular.  I hope to be able to explore the Columbia more in the weeks to come before the weather changes.

Today we need to get back to our domestic duties and try to get at least the living room and kitchen completely unpacked and functional.  It's time.  One can not live amongst cardboard forever without going a little bonkers.  I broke out a few song books yesterday afternoon while we took a siesta from sightseeing.  It felt good to get back to something familiar and comforting.  I was afraid the caluses on my guitar fingers had gotten too girly again.  Thankfully, they're still in manly shape.  And, I still have some chocolate from our trip on 23rd Ave yesterday to get me through more unpacking today.

~Paula

Good Things Come In Small Packages

We are now into Day 2 of unpacking--oh, I don't know--a million boxes (and we thought we had pared down to just the stuff we wanted to take!), and slowly, slowly, they are being emptied.  The goal today was to try and get the kitchen in functioning order.  We almost succeeded.  I did find enough pots to make spaghetti if I can make the time to go grocery shopping tomorrow.  Dave went hunting and gathering this morning and found a couple of grocery centers just a few minutes from our house, so our days of eating out will be coming to a screeching halt soon.  My son has made quick work of finding ways to feel comfortable amid the chaos.

We have to periodically take a break from the unpacking and clear our heads with a walk to the playground or around the block.  Of course, the ulterior motive is to try and find some other cooped up moms/dads/grandparents/babysitters out walking and playing with their children.  I think my daughter was expecting a parade of neighborhood kids to come down the street five minutes after we walked in the door Monday morning and deeply disappointed when it didn't happen on the second day either.  The moving truck and car transporter that sat in front of our house most of the day on Wednesday helped to officially announce our arrival.  Both kids were barreling down the waterslide at the neighbor's house by mid-afternoon.

Today during our walk, we discovered just how hilly it is around our neighborhood.  Pretty, but definitely a cardio workout.  Add 100 lbs. worth of children in a jogging stroller and you've got yourself a huffing and puffing good time.  We found a shady stretch of fenceline to take a breather while my daughter picked a few petals off the clematis trying to escape its enclosure.

After another hunting and gathering run to Portland, we discovered the two little girls that live next door to us.  My niece and I were quickly digging out bicycles and helmets and supervising the--once again--hilly adventure with four children this time around the block.  Dawson discovered how to use the brakes on his John Deere bike and I discovered just how quickly and gazelle-like I can still move when chasing my four-year-old as he goes hurtling down a 10% grade at top speed.  How relaxing.  Afterwards, (to my exhausted relief in spite of the mess) our house and backyard were a blur of little bodies running back and forth and up and down the stairs.  Hopefully tomorrow will bring more of the same.

~Paula

Between A Hotel And A Home Place

We have arrived in Portland and are figuring out how to cram five people between our hotel next to the airport and our empty home across the river in Washington.  The moving truck that was to arrive on Monday the 15th, will finally arrive tomorrow, Wednesday the 17th.  Not a moment too soon for this mom!  Our niece came along for the ride this week to help out with the kids while we deal with all the fun things that come along with relocating.

Yesterday, we took some time off from thinking about moving and explored the Oregon coast, albeit briefly.  Cannon Beach was chilly, but beautiful.  The kids had no qualms about running into the surf, which was comparable to taking a dip in Lake Superior.  After a few hours and some supper, we packed about a pound of sand and a few of the surf-polished black rocks into our rental car and headed back to Portland.

Today, Dave had a meeting in downtown Portland, so the kids and I spent the day at our new home while I did some painting in the upstairs bedrooms.  Had I known how difficult it would be to paint these freakishly textured walls, I would have sprung for the $200 fee to have it done professionally.  One room done, one to go.

The kids have figured out how to entertain themselves in the new house in spite of it being void of all traditional forms of entertainment.  For instance, the large space above the fireplace doubles as an impromptu stage/theater for plays and concerts bound to entertain the most sophisticated of entertainment palates.

I think we should go out and buy a lottery ticket tonight as we found out today that both our moving truck and car transporter will be arriving tomorrow morning for drop-off.  It must be our lucky day.  In addition, it appears that my e-mail at centurytel.net still works out here, so I may not have to come up with a new one after all.  Hurray!

Beautiful flowers abound everywhere.  I've never seen such big or beautiful hydrangeas as I have here.  And to wrap things up tonight, I'll leave you with our view of Mt. Hood on the commute to our new home.  I could get used to this.

~Paula

Twelve to Twenty-Four

"How long are we going to be gone?" I e-mail back to my husband after reading the message he has just sent me from work.
"Twelve to twenty-four months, depending on how long it takes to complete the project," he writes back.

That was almost six months ago, and our adventure is finally about to begin. As of today, our moving truck has pulled away from our little farmhouse in the middle of a cornfield, and we are currently homeless, squatting in my in-laws' house while they are on vacation this week. If I were to meet anyone new this week, they would have definite reservations about continuing to get to know me. I am a rollercoaster of emotions from sad and sentimental to resigned and ready to get things going already. I am glad to not have to make small talk with the movers again today. Although two of the nicest men I've ever met that could lift a player piano all by themselves, I'm not in the mood to discuss what stays and what goes anymore. I don't want to hear the sound of packing tape building up cardboard boxes, and I don't want to look at our house reduced to a massive semi trailer.

No, today we lose our transportation. Our cars are being picked up in a few minutes to be loaded on a car transporter and taken to our final destination, Washington. I haven't had a change of city address in almost 12 years, so forgive me if I get a bit verklempt when I think about leaving our friends and family 1600 miles behind us.  I'll be spending one of our last days on the farm cleaning our house in preparation for the renter to move in this evening.

Twelve to twenty-four months from now, I'm sure I'll be writing a similar post about leaving the coast.  Let's hope, anyway.