Billie's Folly

My grandparents' home on Lake Oswego was always enchanting to me, from the first view as we pulled up, of the small cozy family room tucked below the driveway, to the winding shady garden path down to the lake.  

I spent Thanksgiving in southern California with Jaime's in-laws.  I've been trying to figure out what's the best wording to describe the family of my son-in-law.  Evidently, relationships through marriage are technically called  affinity,  as opposed to consanguinity, for blood relations.  But that's a bit of a stretch.  I'm thinking co-in-laws or maybe out-laws!  But that's who I spent the holiday with. 

As if Thanksgiving hasn't snuck up on us quickly enough, I'm already reminded of Christmas by the buzzing of helicopters overhead the last few days.  It's Christmas tree harvesting time on Pete's Mountain.  I hear they lay big tarps on the ground, the tree cutters load them with trees, then the helicopters pick up a whole tarp and place it directly onto a truck.  Being in California for so long, I'd forgotten how all those thousands of trees show up in lots right after Thanksgiving.

I'm happy to say this is not a real-life sighting!  However, my gardener discovered what was close enough--black bear scat--right along the upper (toward house) border of my grapes.  I took a close look and now understand why it's easily identifiable.  It's made up of berries, nuts, seeds, grasses--very unlike coyotes, deer, dogs, etc.  We followed the trail to the collapsed wire fence where he obviously crawled over.  By the damage, it looks like maybe he was only medium size.  I've decided not to repair it now because he'll just go between other fence posts.  

There are two separate issues I need to address regarding cell phones.  First, the habits of use.  Second the necessity of use.  I'll start with the first and do my griping.  

Committing to a favorite season has always been difficult.  I absolutely love a layer of snow in winter--but that's about it.  I love the renewal of the garden in spring and the freshness of it all--but it's not full and lush yet.  And as much as I appreciate the exuberant blooming flower beds of summer--it's too hot for me.  So maybe fall is becoming my new favorite--this fall in particular.

Well, I finally got Covid*.  I came home from a weekend away and developed an odd dry cough.  After a few days I decided to test.  I had expired tests, but took two anyway.  Both were positive.  I then bought a new test and it also showed positive.  

That perfect time between summer and fall, where the sunshine is thinner, the evenings are cool, the moon is big, and seasonal change is in the air. The garden is fading, seeding, and giving a final push of energy before it all goes to sleep.

Marking another birthday and coming to terms with the aging process.   I've chosen--for the most part--to age gracefully.  That is to say, I'm not going to resort to surgical measures to change what nature has in store for my face.  So bring on the wrinkles, the sagging, the crepes--I'm going au naturale.  

There was quite a buildup to the wedding.  The bride and groom live over an hour away, so they came Wednesday morning with the dance floor and bridge in tow.  They spent the next three days constructing and decorating.  They had plenty of family and friends to help.  Meanwhile, there was a porta-potty dropped off, lighting put up, tables and chairs delivered, and gardeners doing the final cleanup.  The rehearsal was Friday evening with a casual dinner here afterward.

My meadow is a purchased mix of low-growing clover and grasses with a sprinkling of English Daisy, Baby Blue Eyes, and Sweet Alyssum.  I may add a few more wild flower seeds next year.  If we mow often, the flowers don't get a chance to bloom fully.  But we do so because weeds blow in that we don't want going to seed.

Cafe au Lait dahlia.   I thought I left California behind, but I seem to have brought the weather with me.  An Oregon June from my childhood was rainy on and off with temperatures in the 70's, and typically a week thrown in of beautiful spring weather.  4th of July parties were iffy for sunshine (often rain), but by the end of July it was getting dry and warm.  August was the most dependable month, with averages in the 80's, and a few "really hot" days into the 90's.  We usually had a beautiful late summer in September.   But the last few years in Oregon have been exceptions--or the new norm!  2021 was our year of extremes.  We had an ice storm in February and an unprecedented heat dome (reaching 116 in Portland) in June--which led to one of the worst fire seasons in history.  2022 had five days over 100 degrees.  This year we had a few days reach into the 90's in May and only four days of rain in June.  We've basically had non-stop...

I don't know if I mentioned that I now have a small vineyard on my property.  I was approached by our local Tumwater Winery because the owner knows I have a couple acres I'm not using, and I'm in forestry/agricultural zoning.  This part of my property is on a slight southern hillside and I was having to keep the blackberries and tall grasses at bay by hiring big mowers to come in the summer to keep the fire hazard down.  I had considered renting goats to keep it in check, but I think I would have needed to provide shelter for them.  And Sadie might never have recovered from the excitement! 

Financial wealth is one way to measure riches.     But checking that box doesn’t guarantee a person is fulfilled.    There's a cap on how much money will improve your long-term happiness.   Once basic needs are met , with enough money to make ends meet, wealth's relationship to happiness often flattens.   Intangible riches are more commensurate with happiness.  Redirecting your priorities, having an appetite and capacity to enjoy life’s resources and treasures, a dopting a lens of gratitude —provides the true riches in one’s life. To be open to human interaction is to be vulnerable.  Every day you take the chance that heartbreak or tragedy can hit unexpectedly.  But they say the depth that we experience love is in equal measure to the depth of heartache and pain we can endure.  And the rewards—the richness of life, the emotional fulfillment, and pure enjoyment of family, children and friendships — are immeasurable and are ...

Toward the end of last year, I agreed to host a wedding at my house this summer.  Jaime and Brian introduced me to a couple of their friends who I've gotten to know and like.  They got engaged and were looking for an outdoor venue to get married.  I'm flattered that they want to have it here, and I decided to make use of "the Folly" and all that I've put into it.  I do love to entertain, and I think it will be fun.  

Lifestyle is a way of life that reflects an individual or group's values, attitudes and preferences and resulting choices, behaviors and habits.  When a society as a whole shares the same values, attitudes and preferences, they adopt the same customs and a culture develops. The community in which a person resides affects the lifestyle available to them.  In the case of France, once you get out of the big cities, the pace slows and a more purposeful lifestyle becomes evident.  (I'm differentiating between a purposeful life and a purposeful style of living.)  I'm talking about going about daily activities with purpose--taking the time to make activities intentional and more meaningful.  It's very much about living in the moment.  This favored lifestyle revolves a lot around socializing and food.   

We're (finally) in the full swing of spring--everything is greening up and showing its colors.  Having a long, dreary winter makes spring all the more welcome and joyous.  I wander around the garden every decent weather day, looking for who's (anthropomorphizing) the latest to sprout a leaf or bud.  It truly excites me.  This is when I miss my mom--she had the heart of a gardener and a passion for nature.  I regret that I never got to share my house and garden with her.  I think she would have loved this Geranium Bill Wallis.

Although I spent years flying from San Francisco to Seattle, it wasn't until I started flying from Portland to San Francisco that the differences in the quality of the sunlight crept into my consciousness.  San Francisco is always bright and sunny, but it's a thin bright--almost like a very sheer white film filters the light.  This compared to the Northwest's richer light, that may not be as brilliant, but makes colors intense and truer.  I'm sure its probably due to atmospheric differences.  And it might also be the relative population and surfaces reflecting the sun in the Bay Area versus so much shadow and green absorbing the sun in Washington and Oregon.  Of course days and seasons make it variable, but it's a sense of the overall density of light that I get.

Like many, covid really put a kink in my travel routine.  On top of that, I didn't travel much while I was building my house.  Getting out of practice has made me somewhat intimidated and reluctant to tackle all the logistics of travel again.  But I still have places I want to see and re-see, so I've pushed myself to jump back in.  I took a short trip to Nantucket in the fall.  And I just got back from my first overseas trip since 2019--to France.

As spring comes into its own, the birds are in abundance.  As I walk by, the beds begin to flutter.  I imagine they're beginning to think about mating.  I put out a cage of nesting material.  I use raffia, excelsior, dryer lint and even a little yarn for color.  They say you can use pet hair, but I haven't tried that.  I'm thrilled that the bluebirds have moved into my stone birdhouses.  My gardener is good at spotting active nests and careful not to disturb them.  

With the Daylight Savings switch-over, I'm seizing on every degree over 45 as an indicator of spring's arrival.  A bit optimistic and definitely eager, I admit. As my Oregon winters go, this one has seemed colder than the others.  We've had a few snow flurries that were pretty and brief, and a bit of freezing that didn't do too much damage.  But we've had lots of damp cold.  And mostly, we've had bone-chilling wind.  Living on top of a hill--which I cleared of much of the shielding close-in forest--has left me with no wind break.  I've been pelted with relentless gusts much of the winter.   But enough weather whining!

I'm a terrible procrastinator!  This sits on a "stickie" on my desktop: We often wait for schedules to clear, for to-do lists to be checked off—always waiting for life to be in order, to settle down, an empty, clean slate—before we take the time to get into the things we really care about and really want to do.  Here's the thing.  It. Never. Does.  The lists never empty, there will always be routine commitments and responsibilities, schedules are rarely cleared.   And we miss out on beautiful days, spontaneous plans, frivolous ideas, fun projects, good books,  family time, and even daydreaming.  And we don’t get to the things that really matter to us.