Snapshots of 24 hours of summer

Sunday was little London's blessing day at church. She wore a dress that was worn by both her mother and her grandma, which is a worthy tradition. Charlie's blessing of his daughter was short and sweet, which would have been appreciated by his Grandpa Tom.

Family showed up in full force.

Overheard last night during the aftermath of a family spaghetti feed:
Nana, where did you get this game?
Where do you think I got this game, Josh?
At a garage sale!

Every time the grands have asked me lately where I got something, the answer is the same. 
They are starting to get the picture!

The husband grumbled about not needing more games as he loaded his car for the trip back to Central Oregon last night. 
But it is an awesome game, and it was unopened and only a dollar. It's called The Way Things Work, based on David Macaulay's book. Josh and Thomy loved it, even though they are way younger than the suggested age, and I love that it teaches scientific principles.

Little Jeff decided he didn't want dinner, and was okay with giving up his ice cream treat as a result.

Until it was time to go home, then suddenly he wanted to eat his dinner.

But alas, he bounced between crying and sitting-but-not-eating until parental patience was lost and he was carted unceremoniously out of the door.

(Dinner was not that bad, by the way!)

An hour-or-so later the phone rang.

Hello.

Hi Nana. Do you think you could save my dinner and I will eat it next time I am over?

Um, sorry Jeff, but I threw it away already.

Silence....

Nana, could I have an ice cream next time I come over?

(Nana trying not to laugh out loud).

Well Jeff, you can have an ice cream but you will have to earn it. You can do a job for me and then you can have an ice cream, okay?

Okay, Nana.

Too cute.

Josh and Natalie ending up spending the night unexpectedly, so we started the morning with a three-mile Nana-walking-and-kids-scootering outing that was way too early considering I hadn't slept much since 3am. The kids are dressed in a mixture of pyjamas and swimsuits, which is all I had on hand. After I finished piano lessons for the day, we picked up Thomy and Jeff and went to Buckley Park, a small neighbourhood park that has a most splendiferous ditch running through it. I sat on the bank, alternately reading Michael Pollan's new book and watching graceful monarch butterflies and brilliant red dragonflies swooping over the water, while the kids gradually shed their shoes and socks and got muddy. They were hunting tadpoles, but only managed to catch a dragonfly and some other water critter. We examined the dragonfly and then let it go, but the other critter was taken home to the scientist.

As I sat watching the three little boys and the girl having the time of their lives in a muddy creek and with only a plastic box for props, I couldn't help but remember summers of my childhood. We played in the fields, picked wildflowers, jumped ditches, tunneled through fields of wheat, climbed haystacks, and rode our bikes through days that seemed endless. No one organized our time or filled our days with activity, and we were as happy as puppies in a field of fire hydrants. I am as guilty as anyone of organizing activities, but it did my heart good today to see those littles playing with such innocence and gusto in a ditch.

I could use more of this kind of summer.

The Oregon Garden, slice of Paradise

We visited The Oregon Garden in the winter of 2009. We could see the potential, but thought we would like to see it in the summer when there were some actual flowers in sight. Last summer, we got free tickets with our hotel stay in Silverton, but the day was hot and we ran out of time so we figured we would save them till this summer.

Friday was the day and the gardens were in full bloom.

This gardener and her husband were in ecstasy!

Here are some of the joys of the visit.

Sea holly was one of the first sights to meet our eyes. I really want some of this in my garden, even though it smells faintly peculiar.

I never knew it came in white, but here it is.

Swathes of colour were everywhere.

Water features abound.

I don't know what this is, but I really like it.
Anyone?
Note to self: acanthus.

Likewise this ground cover. Anyone know what it is?

The earth laughs in flowers. Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! 

I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one. Edna St. Vincent Millay.

There are always flowers for those who want to see them. Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I must have flowers, always, and always. Claude Monet.

Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair. Susan Polis Schultz.

I liked this clearing.
It made me want to have a pow-wow.

The children's garden is quite delightful.

The Hobbit found herself a hole.

Can you answer the riddles?
If anyone gets number seven, please explain it to me. I know the answer but don't get it at all.

The train looked fun but it wasn't working.
Boo.

We heard a chirping and looked up to see this baby chickadee (I think) sitting in the entrance to the birdhouse.

A cupola above...

...and this plaque below created a nice place to rest, which we would have done had we time to linger.
But we didn't.
However, this motto found a place in my heart.

A view of the Oregon Garden Resort, one of my favourite hotels in the world.

And you can see some of the many volunteers who were spending their Friday weeding the gardens.

We admired this tree rose, enjoyed its sweet smell, and then realised it is Jeff's long-time favourite, Angel Face.

Gallardia is delicious in all of its incarnations.
Bud.

Flower.

And beginning seed pod.

No kidding.

This zinnia reminds me of something from Vincent Van Gogh. No editing created this colour, it is all intact.

These are pineapple guava flowers, known as feijoas in New Zealand. My last few trips to the country have been during feijoa harvest time and I had forgotten the beauty of the flowers.

I had mused aloud about the possibility of foraging deer in the gardens, and then we saw this.

And lastly, these two wee philosophers, philosophizing in the bonsai garden.

I hope you've enjoyed this little taste of The Oregon Garden as much as we enjoyed our visit. It's worth the drive and admission fee at least once in your life.

Alpaca love

What I want to know is, have you ever seen anything as adorable as an alpaca?

And did you know that Oregon has its very own Premiere Alpaca Destination?

It is located just a few miles from our Other House. 

Don't panic, it's just me trying out suitable names for Vista House. I still haven't found the moniker that screams "Pick me! Pick me!"

Whenever people come to visit and drive the back way from Sisters, I tell them to be sure to visit the alpaca farm. So far, Bethany is the only one who has complied.

Alpacas were first raised by the Incas for their fleece, which was reserved exclusively for the nobility.

Crescent Moon Ranch is a breeding farm and has about 500 alpacas. They birth about a baby a day. A good sire will set you back $25,000 or more. The owners are crazy people who work long days, every day of the year. The wife will give you a little tour if you happen to see her. She knows every alpaca by name. 

Alpacas were first brought into the US in 1984 and now number around 20,000.

I want to take this baby home. When Jeff and I were young and optimistic, we dreamed of owning ten acres in the country and an alpaca or two were on the required list of resident livestock. Nowadays, we realise how lazy we are and how it would never have worked, but it was nice to dream.

Alpaca fleece is warmer and softer than sheep's wool and lacks lanolin, which makes it hypoallergenic. The fleece is also flame-resistant and water-resistant, as well as moisture-wicking. It comes in 16 official tones, which can be mixed together to create even more hues, thus minimizing the need for dyes.

Oh baby.

I love the crimpy woolly coat. It reminds me of my Uncle Eddy's hair.

There are two kinds of alpaca. The suri has long fibre that forms silky dreadlocks. The huacaya has a woolly, dense, crimped fleece. About 90% of North American alpacas are huacayas. 

I believe this is called a "snaggle-tooth".

Alpacas and llamas can be cross-bred. Their offspring are called huarizo and are prized for their longer fleece.

The farm is immaculate and I marvel at the energy of the owners, who are at least our age and perhaps older.

Alpacas hum

Just like me.

They hum when they are curious, content, worried, bored, fearful, distressed, or cautious.

Just like me.

No wonder I feel such an affinity for them. 

Alpaca meat is considered a delicacy in some countries.
I will try to forget that tidbit of information, and I think you should too.