Category Archives: family

Oregon – long good-bye

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On our last day in Oregon we woke up in a little old room in a lodge by a lake. Lake O’Dell, where Mr. Glad had come a couple of times as a child and where we thought we might row or paddle around on the glassy water in the morning. But I was impatient, knowing we had a long day of driving ahead of us, to just get on with it and get to Pippin’s.

The night before, we had sat on the deck and continued our reading of The Hobbit. Then we retired to our rustic room, likely designed for a fisherman type who doesn’t read in bed or need a nightstand for anything. The fisherman doesn’t have any bottles or jars or pillboxes in the bathroom, either, so it’s o.k. for him that the floor is the only horizontal surface other than a narrow windowsill.

It was kind of sweet, actually. The room smelled just normal, not like disinfectant or stale cigarette smoke or fake deodorizer. Maybe partly because the windows were letting in the fresh air from the forest, into a room that mostly houses just plain folk. We could see the lake through the trees, and hear the birds.

A well-dressed tree trunk by Lake O’Dell

Nothing and nobody woke us out of our good sleep, not even a motorboat of fishermen going out on the lake in the wee hours of the morning, as Mr. Glad had predicted. But we did wake and get on our way, south toward our home state. It would take the better part of the day, by way of long straight roads in the high and dry eastern side of Oregon.

Forest, forest and more forest, with “fields” of short lupines in bloom along both sides of the highway, thickest out in the open between the road and the trees.

When we were still at least 200 miles away, I got my first glimpse of the top of Mt. Shasta, that volcano that stands by itself over 14, 000 feet high as a dramatic landmark an hour’s drive south of the Oregon-California line. And then I really got excited, like a horse on its way back to the barn, and it struck me how much I love that mountain for telling me “Welcome to California!” and “Welcome home!” while I was yet a long way off.

It’s summer, and summer in the West means the highway department is repairing the roads, so this trip was marked by many many extended stops waiting for the flagman to let us go on.

The last of these roadwork episodes was near Weed, California, and I was driving, and could roll down my window and snap this picture of the mountain from a normally impossible spot. “It’s my lucky day!” I said, as once again we were sitting motionless on the blacktop.

But only a few minutes later we were playing with the grandchildren and eating strawberries with our dear ones. The Oregon loop was lovely, but not more so than the feeling of home.

Oregon – Granite Man, Pennyroyal, and Deer Brush

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An hour before the race began

On the first of June Mr. Glad competed with other members of the family in the Granite Man Triathlon in southern Oregon. It was one of several events and meetings that formed the outline of a little trip around our neighboring state.

My husband was doing the swimming leg, as was the other grandpa of our Oregon grandchildren, and the two of them were the team captains. Our son and three grandsons made up the remainder of the teams, with the younger athletes compensating somewhat for the slowness of their elders. We womenfolk and some out-of-town kin were the support crew and also played with the baby (cute boy even if he isn’t one of my grandchildren).

My favorite swimmer left of center with his hands on his hips

Perfect weather, and a lovely setting, with trees leafing out, flowers beginning to bloom. As we stood around on the grassy slope of Applegate Lake waiting for the race to start with the swimmers’ portion, I had my first botanical experience of the trip. It started with a smell that only gradually broke into my consciousness enough to make me look down and search out what source my feet were tramping on.

pennyroyal – or not?

Pennyroyal was my first thought, as I picked off some of what was growing in the wild lawn, and in case you aren’t familiar with it, I outlined one cluster faintly in red, in the photo above, in the lower right corner. Even so, you may have to click on the photo to see it.

But it doesn’t exactly look like pictures of Mentha pulegium, though that pennyroyal is considered mildly invasive in California and Oregon. It doesn’t even look like pictures of the Oregon “field mint” Mentha arvensis, which I looked at in case my sniffer is not able to distinguish between members of the mentha family.

Pennyroyal has what I’d call a sharper aroma than most mints, and this one under my feet had that distinctive smell that I have met many times in my life, often in the mountains. Was I mistaken? Its leaves do look in some ways more like Monardella odoratissima, whose common names include “Mountain Pennyroyal” – but not exactly.

This Applegate Lake variety looks like a cross between it and another mint, as I study it further. And that impression might not be too far from reality, because it turns out that pennyroyal has an ability to hybridize with other mint species, adding to its troublesome weediness. It may crowd out native plants and even threaten Oregon’s commercial peppermint and spearmint crops, as I read in this article.

I learned a new word while reading it: allelopathy: a biological phenomenon by which an organism produces one or more biochemicals that influence the growth, survival, and reproduction of other organisms. I am familiar with this kind of influence from my experiences in gardening, but I didn’t know the name for it. The latest instance is the way nothing much grows under my manzanita bush because of its negative allelopathic qualities. The authors of the article experimented by treating seeds of a rare Oregon plant with a weak extract of pennyroyal root, and found that the germination rate dropped.

Deer Brush near Applegate Lake, Oregon

I didn’t know all of this bad stuff when I was lolling about in such a bucolic place; I was only pleased to have found a plant to check on as soon as I got home.

When we went out to the parking lot after all our guys were done (and some were done-in) I found another, a bush covered with honey-scented flowers. I thought it might be a type of Ceanothus, and I was right. But about the common name, I was wrong. I guessed Mountain Lilac, and it is in fact called that by some people, but maybe by mistake…? It’s officially known as Deer Brush.

The flowers come in shades of light blue and white, mostly, and it’s native to the western states. All of its uses are positive: animals eat it, the Indians made baskets from it, and it fixes nitrogen in the soil. Everybody likes this one!

Ceanothus integerrimus

Babies don’t care a whit…

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…about your politics or theology. They don’t know if you are fat or having a bad hair day or if your clothes don’t match. You can talk nonsense and they won’t get bored or irritated. Little Liam is a proper baby and is fun to be with — no social stress. He doesn’t think I’m weird — come to think of it, he doesn’t think about me at all in the way we adults do, though he is taking me in.


A Triple-A baseball game was the place where Liam and I had a good time on Sunday. We Glads drove to Sacramento for an evening River Cats game — they were playing the Reno Aces — and sat with Soldier and Joy and the boy on a fairly steep grassy slope overlooking the outfield. It was green all around, and very warm. Baseball feels right when the air is summery.


Compared to San Francisco Giants ball games — the ones I’ve been to most often — it was quiet and laid-back and uncrowded (and the opposite of foggy-by-the-bay). So relaxing. Liam didn’t care that our team lost. He was busy checking out the grass under the quilt his mama had spread out, and doing crawling experiments: how to maneuver uphill or down without doing sudden somersaults or rolls.

Eventually he had a snack of mango, using his father for a backrest. And after that my youngest grandson had become used to me again and didn’t mind a bit when I pulled him on to my lap for a session of clapping and finger games. Soon we were laughing and shrieking and talking plenty of nonsense together. It did this gramma good.

 

I pose my nest among flowers.

crafts, family, my garden

When the latest birthday package came in the mail I was alone in the house. I unwrapped the tissue paper knowing already that the gift inside had been handmade by my daughter-in-law Joy. It appeared to be something very small and lightweight….and then out came a knitted nest of eggs! The beauty of them and the love that had been expressed by the patient labor…my hands actually began to shake — lucky these eggs are soft and comfortable and not brittle.

I began to pose my new toys around the house, and then went outdoors to find a natural setting too. Every day it seems there is a new flower somewhere, so I had lots of choices of where to plant my nest.

I don’t remember what these tall spiky flowers are; they grow from bulbs I planted a few years ago. They are striking for a couple of weeks, but then the flowers get too heavy and the stalks lie down on the sidewalk by the front door.

So we should enjoy them right now at their peak, before they get annoying. If you enlarge the photo above you might see Mr. Glad’s bent back, beyond the rosemary bush at the top.

And a glimpse of Johnny Jump-Ups and various other little blooms behind this close-up.

A happy discovery was that the helianthemum I have been nursing along for almost two years has finally bloomed! I know it does still look a bit scraggly but I am greatly encouraged. I think it is named Henfield Brilliant.

Eventually I took a picture of my birthday eggs nestled among the simple alyssum flowers. Then I brought them back indoors to be the near-perfect springtime table decoration. They would be completely perfect if they didn’t make me miss the dear gift-giver herself. Thank you, Joy!