Staying at Home

Staying at Home
Staying at Home

Friday, April 3, 2020

04-03-2020 Writing About It

It is now 5:30 AM and I have been awake since 2, finally up at 3 thinking I could possibly write a blog post.  It’s funny how I can procrastinate this simple chore, and yes, this time it feels like a chore rather than a delight.  But it needs to be done. I need to try to track the milestones of our life, not just the great trips, but the down times.  March was most definitely a down time, but it didn’t really begin until March 10, when we laughingly enjoyed what was to be our last pedicure for a long time.

On March 10th, the Virus was still a distant rumor, just a tiny hint of what was to come.  We felt safe enough with our pedicure technicians wearing their masks as they often do. By March 13th, the rumor was big and loud enough that I called my hairdresser and asked if she minded if I cancelled my appointment.  She was still open, but understood completely.  At almost 75 years old, and with a random muscle disease as yet undiagnosed, I didn’t want to take chances.  Now in Oregon, all barber shops, beauty shops, and nail salons are closed along with many other so called non essential businesses.  It is a bit interesting to see what is deemed essential, with liquor stores and pot shops being high on the list.

Many of my blogging friends have done a fantastic job of continuing to write about the complexities of their lives as they deal with the Virus.  Covid 19. It. Some have said we should keep a diary of these times, of our lives as we go through what feels like a truly crazy dystopian novel. I haven’t done that well, in fact I haven’t even tried.  I have days on the calendar that list things that need to be done, but the huge blank spot in that calendar are appointments and outings.  All those doctor and dentist visits, blood work that needs to be done, hair  and nail appointments, dinner with friends, Friday nights at the winery with wood fired pizzas and a bottle of good red.

A trip to the beach, something we have done almost every March since we had the MoHo, cancelled at the last minute.  We had planned 3 days at an RV resort near Gold Beach beginning on March 23.  I called to cancel after social media went into a frenzy about too many people heading for the coast, but the owner refused to refund our deposit, saying everything was fine.  The very next day Oregon’s governor closed the RV parks.  Instead of the refund I would have received, I got a credit for another date in June.  Unknown to us and unmentioned by the park manager was that the cost in June was summer rates, quite a bit more than we planned.  I was NOT happy.

Our planned cruise to Scotland is scheduled for early July, but we are reasonably certain that it will be cancelled as well.  We have the ability to cancel with a full credit for a future cruise just 48 hours before our first airline departure so will wait a bit before cancelling.  Not exactly excited about getting on a long flight or a cruise ship even in July, and am pretty sure we will not be going on that cruise this year.

We are practicing social distancing, isolating at home.  Often, it doesn’t feel much different than usual.  We aren’t hugely social creatures, enjoying our own company, enjoying our home and our little almost acre.

That acre has been a godsend in the last few weeks.  We can still go outdoors when the weather allows and fiddle around with home projects to keep us busy and moving.  I can get 10,000 steps in a day simply walking up and down to mow and rake and haul debris to the waiting dump trailer.  Mo spends more time outside than I do, being less picky about the temperatures and willing to don outerwear to get out there.  I’m more of a warm weather person, I really don’t like working in the cold.  Maybe because I spent so many decades as a field scientist working outdoors in some rather awful weather. I’ll go for a walk, but actually doing yard work in cold damp weather isn’t any fun for me. 

Mo’s big project this month has been getting a solid, level gravel floor in the lean-to area of her wood shop.  She had to mix many bags of cement to enclose the area so that it would contain the gravel.  She then ordered a big load of rock, and shoveled it into the space bit by bit until she had a very nice solid floor. She was happy that she had her trusty tractor to help move the gravel from the pile to the shed. No more blocks trying to level up her sawing table.

Instead of braving the chilly weather I retreat to the sewing machine or make some cards, clean house or cook:  warm pursuits that keep me happy and far from bored.  I don’t think either of us has been even remotely bored in the last few weeks.  But things seem to be getting crazier every day, and the somewhat vague lockdown of just about every kind of commerce in the state of Oregon is beginning to take its toll. 

My dearest friend, Maryruth, came down with pneumonia early in the month, just as her husband Gerald was recuperating from a heart attack and major heart surgery.  It was still a time when I could take them food and groceries, but as the month progressed even that changed.  Maryruth never had a fever, was never hospitalized, but also was never tested.  We haven’t visited in person for 3 weeks now.  She is better, Gerald has recuperated wonderfully, but with compromised immune systems, there are no dinner get togethers, no card playing dates, no girly crafting days to share.

Cooking a deep dish quiche for supper

I can see that I am rambling as I write, trying to recapture how it feels to be required to remain at home, to stay away from family and friends.  Like many others, I am calling more and texting less, wanting to hear the voices of those that I love as they navigate the same scary waters.  My daughter Melody is working from home, but her honey is still going to work.  They made an offer on a house early in the month, before anything was known, and unbelievably they were funded, inspected, appraised and managed to close within a couple of days of the original closing date, yesterday. Is moving considered an essential activity? 

A lovely old home in Oregon for my daughter who loves history and old houses

My grandkids, Melody’s family, are all somehow magically safe at the moment, with Xavier, the most immune compromised with Type 1 diabetes on paid leave from his job at Fred Meyer.  My two grandkids and their two roommates share an apartment in Albany, Oregon, with one working at Home Depot, one working at WalMart, one currently unemployed but with some savings, and Xavier at home.  They are being careful and they are not ignoring the warnings.  Millennials and younger, they are paying attention. I am proud of them.

Deborah, a financial manager at Southern Oregon Head Start is considered essential, even though the facilities are closed.  She is getting paid and even if she weren’t she has a gazillion hours of sick leave she can use.  Her honey is retired, with a stable income as well. With unemployment applications topping 10 million so far, I am incredibly grateful that the family has resources and is safe.  What I miss are the weekly or biweekly Deborah Sunday visits.  Grandson Matthew is at home across the street, and we wave when we see each other.

Keith and my grandson Steven, and Deanna installing new hardwood floors in their home

Daughter Deanna and her husband, the truckers, are miraculously at home at their property in Northern Washington. They planned a month off to do some down time, to work on their home and property before all this started.  Now they are trapped there, without income, but unwilling to go back on the road and get stranded somewhere unable to move.  The airplane engines that they transport are stopped cold at the moment, and other drivers who do what they do are spending most of their time waiting in truck stops with no open restaurants.  It is hard on their savings and their retirement plans, but at least they are trapped at home instead of somewhere far away in a truck.  They also have property to play on and plenty of home projects to keep them busy, a freezer full of food, and plenty of isolation in a very tiny remote community.  I am grateful that they are safe.

I took down the St Pat’s decor, and put up Easter.  I do love the Easter decorations, but realized this year that love is mostly based on knowing that I will be sharing an Easter meal with family, and the decor is just a backdrop to brighten that precious family time.  Something that will not happen this year.  Back in mid March when I put it up, I did think that maybe this would all be over by Easter.  I know some of the world thought that as well, but now we know better.  Social isolation will no doubt last at least through April and probably much longer.

So many people have said what am feeling:  the days are all running together.  We have settled into a routine that is only broken when one or the other of us waken in the night and then we sleep till 8 or even 9am.  Unheard of around here!  We are binge watching Newsroom after dinner, if you can call two episodes a night a binge.  It is for us.  The Sunday night airing of the final season of Homeland can take my mind off of anything else.

The dog knows when the 4 pm chime rings it is time for her walk, and at 5 it is time for her dinner and at 8 she is insistent that it is her bedtime.  The days are pleasant, sometimes even lovely. 

I am enjoying uninterrupted time for quilting,working on a bed quilt for Deborah.

Another dear friend in Idaho is a crafter/card maker and turned me on to the Tim Holtz Facebook Live demonstrations on Saturdays.  She sent me some Tim style cards, so different from my somewhat regimented and orderly card making style. 

The Stampin’ Up style of cards I am used to making

I learned that it is very hard for me to just cut loose and get all crazy with random stuff, and was surprised that there is such a big learning curve to the chemistry of the particular style of Distress card making.

Learning to make wild colorful creative backgrounds, Tim Holtz style

It is very similar to why I had so much trouble trying to play blues piano when I was trained classical, as much as I loved the Blues. Laura is inspiring me to just cut loose and play with the colors and the paper and don’t even try to think of what it will be like in the end.  Challenging, and just what is needed to take my mind off of what is going on in the world around us.

Yesterday the sun came out after many gray, drippy days.  We needed the rain, and I don’t mind it, but I so miss the sunshine.  Even with a hard frost on the grass in the early morning, the day was gorgeous.  Mo and I treated ourselves to a drive to the compost center for a truckload of nice rich compost for the annual flower garden on the sunny side of the RV shed.

I love putting fresh compost down getting ready for the annuals in this garden

We enjoyed the gorgeous spring day during the 20 minute drive along the Rogue River.  We stopped at the drive through of Rogue Roasters for coffee to go for the drive.  It was an exciting outing for us.  I carefully wiped the credit card and the coffee cups with Clorox wipes from our last container.  Mattie even had a puppicino.  These are tiny cups of whipped cream that Starbucks has for dog customers, and the local Rogue Roasters was happy to oblige when I asked.

We have 18 more days of toilet paper, which I had stored prior to the hoarding kerfuffle.  I always try to keep the TP in the cupboard so I don’t have to shop for it often, so I was prepared.  Who knows if I will be able to get more, but I am getting a bit nervous about it. We are planning to head to WinCo on Sunday morning. Local conversations on Grants Pass Community Chat indicate that they are doing an excellent job of practicing social distancing, and are fairly well stocked.  We will see how that goes. So far we haven’t had any desire to brave the 30 miles and unknown that is Costco.

As others have said in blogs and facebook posts, not much to report.  Still, it seems important to write it down.  Someday we could all look back and say, wow, that was something.  Someday it could be completely behind us.  Then again, someday we could look back and say, that is when the end of the world started, or the beginning of a new word we don’t recognize.  It could be anything.  That is the uncertainty of these times that makes writing a blog feel so disjointed, that makes life feel so disorienting.  We are adjusting to a new reality, and no one really has a clue what that reality will bring.

Thursday, March 5, 2020

03-04 to 03-05 2020 Over the Mountain for the Lava and the Birds

When we had the apartments in Klamath Falls, our journeys over the mountain were simple.  Load up the car and plan to stay in the extra apartment when we had to handle Klamath Basin business.  Now that the apartments are sold, it is all different. 

Mo had her taxes done in Klamath Falls for a couple of decades, and was reluctant to switch accountants with such a complex issue as selling the apartments.  She made an appointment with her tax lady and said, “Where should we stay when we go to Klamath Falls?”  We rolled that one around a bit, thinking that maybe the weather would be good enough to take the kayaks and dip into our favorite kayak waters.  Sometimes we have paddled this early in the year, and other times the Basin is covered with snow until May. 

Big Meadow near the summit of the High Lakes Pass.

The meadow is still covered in snow, but thin enough that the snowmobiles that frequent this area are banned for the time being.

Mattie wanted to go run on the snowy meadow

Things looked good until just a couple of days before our planned trip when snow and rain were predicted and the morning temperatures in the 20’s made both of us shiver. We decided to skip the kayaks.  Still, the motorhome was the best plan for the two evenings we planned to be away.  Who wants to stay in an expensive hotel when we have our own bed and nice clean COVID 19 virus free bathroom!  But where to park?!  WalMart?  We had no clue if they still allowed overnighting in the parking lot, but the KOA in town is terribly crowded and probably expensive as well.  We didn’t bother looking it up because Mo searched around a bit on AllStays and found reviews for the Kla-Mo-Ya Casino, just 20 minutes north of town.  Of course!  The parking lot there is huge.  We have visited the casino many times over the years but never had a reason to camp since we lived nearby. Paul and Nina stayed there and wrote up a great review of the place, with photos, which I didn’t bother to take.  We parked in the northern end where they parked but had no intrusive truckers join us to keep us awake. 

After settling in we unhooked the car and drove into town to meet with Mo’s accountant.  The warmish afternoon actually called for an ice cream cone at Baskin Robbins nearby before we traveled back north to our overnight spot. Once back home in the MoHo, we enjoyed supper in and never bothered to go to the casino.  Why take a chance on public spaces where people are touching everything and eating in a public restaurant.  Better to stay home in our own space.

Our original plan was to camp two nights at Kla-Mo-Ya, but the accountant said there was no need for Mo to stay around, she could mail the final papers to Grants Pass.  Hmmm.  What to do?

Even though we decided to skip taking the kayaks, it didn’t mean we couldn’t go find the birds.  The Klamath Basin is on the Pacific Flyway and I have been watching photos from Basin birders of the thousands of birds that rest in the refuge waters on their way north. 

I was craving open skies and distant views, and most of the camps in the local mountains are either in a dark hole, or closed for the season, or high enough in the mountains that they are still snowed in.  As we rolled around possibilities, I said, “I am hungry again for desert!”.  Suddenly we both thought of the perfect open desert landscape, with a beautiful campground that is open all year long.

Lava Beds National Monument is just 40 miles or so south of Klamath Falls, and on the southern edge of the Lower Klamath National Wildlife Refuge where we planned to spend the day.  It was easy to decide to pack up the MoHo and travel south to the Monument with the idea that we could settle in with the rig and then return to the refuge for an afternoon of birding.

It was a beautiful drive, with temperatures in the high 50’s and gorgeous blue skies.  We were thrilled when we drove into the campground to discover it was completely empty.  It isn’t a big campground and the A loop was the only loop open, but no matter, we had our choice of the best campsite there.  None of the sites are particularly big and for some reason the one way road is opposite the direction it should be for parking a motorhome along each campsite.  When the LEO checked in with us she mentioned that they were considering expanding the campground to include space for bigger rigs, and I suggested that it would be a simple fix to just change the direction of the one way road.

The silence was what struck me first, and then the view from our spot, north the many miles across the refuge toward Klamath Falls.  The MoHo was parked on level asphalt, with the campfire and picnic table just a few steps away.  I turned to Mo and said, “I don’t want to leave.  How do you feel about us skipping the drive back to the refuge and just sitting here all afternoon with this silence and this view?”  Mo agreed completely, and we opened the doors to feel the slight breeze, set up our chairs, and wished we had brought firewood.

I drove back up to the visitor center on the off chance that they might have some and was told that we could either drive 18 miles one way to Tionesta, 30 miles the other way toward Tulelake, or maybe the corner store on StateLine Road would have some wood.  Or another option was to drive 6 miles south into the Modoc National Forest and forage on our own for free down wood. 

We took off in the Tracker on the forest road and had fun hunting for old dry wood and filled up the back of the car with enough for the evening.  Once again, we had the road and the forest to ourselves and Mattie had a great time running around off leash in the woods with us.

Back home we relaxed a bit as the evening began to cool.  I heated up our soup while Mo built a great fire and we settled in to enjoy dinner with a view at the massive picnic table built in the 1930’s by the CCC. 

The night was completely silent, and not quite completely dark with the quarter moon shedding more light than I have sometimes seen in a completely full moon.  We sat in our chairs by the fire and with a surprisingly good cell signal I used our favorite little FlightTracker app to identify all the planes flying over us in both directions.  There were a LOT more planes flying in this area that we usually see in Grants Pass to the west.

It was a cold night, with lows dropping to 26 degrees F before morning, but we were toasty.  There are no hookups, but the furnace kept us warm enough with a comforter and 2 quilts. I got up in the dark a few times to try to id stars and constellations as well, but the bright moon and the bit of high cloudiness made it hard to see so I gave up and snuggled back under the covers with my book.  A great night of darkness and silence. 

We enjoyed a slow morning with breakfast and coffee and I managed a short little hike along the 7 Mile Trail that starts at the campground.  Lava Beds is most famous for its lava caves and tubes, and while many are named there are little caves everywhere that aren’t even on the map.  Lava Beds National Monument has instituted a screening procedure to help prevent the spread of bat white-nose syndrome to its caves.  You must have a permit to show that you haven’t been in any caves anywhere else in the recent past.

We packed up and headed back across the monument, stopping to enjoy the views of the Devils Homestead lava flow.  In the distance to the south the broad expanse of the source of all that lava can be seen, still covered in deep snow. 

The Medicine Lake Volcano is home to one of our favorite campsites in the heart of the Caldera, Medicine Lake Campground.  However, at over 7,000 feet elevation the road isn’t accessible until early summer and often snow is still in the campground into June.  Hoping for another great camping trip this coming summer at Medicine Lake.

Our route back toward home passed through two wildlife refuges, Tulelake NWR and Lower Klamath NWR.  Each refuge has its own personality, but both are supplied with water by the Bureau of Recreation for the Klamath Basin Project.  Sometimes there is a lot of water allowed into the refuges, and other times not so much, depending on the forecast for the water year and where the water needs to be allocated.  Water from Klamath Lake goes down the Klamath River, habitat for salmon.  Before it gets to the river however, it is diverted into canals to supply the farmers in the Klamath Basin.  If there is enough water for the salmon and enough for the farmers, and oh yes, enough to keep water in the lake to support the endangered sucker breeding beds, then there will be some left over for the birds.  It is a constant battle.  The water was allocated to the basin by the BoR in 1905, and there is never enough to supply all the needs, so something goes wanting even in a good year, much less a drought year. Here is a link to a study by the USGS about water in the basin.

This time around, as we passed the Tulelake NWR we saw that most of the fields were dry and the ponds where we have walked and seen so many birds were also dry.  We didn’t stop, but continued back west toward Lower Klamath NWR, where there was more water than we have seen in years. 

There is a beautiful refuge graveled auto tour that circles the largest wetlands, and we have often seen huge flocks of many types of geese and swans there during some years.  This year we were a bit late for the geese, but a few swans were still around, and many many ducks.  We saw more bufflehead ducks throughout the refuge than we have ever seen in the past.

Cinnamon teal family on Lower Klamath NWR

White Front Geese with some Northern Shovelers tucked in on Lower Klamath NWR

Northern Shoveler at Lower Klamath NWR

Toward the Willows section of the auto route there are some large cottonwoods that host a heron and egret rookery, but we saw no herons and the egrets have yet to return.  Sadly, a nesting pair of herons were scared from their nest by the many tourists who travel the road and get out of their cars.  People don’t seem to know that staying in your car is the best way to avoid disturbing the birds, and we saw people walking around taking photos.  I follow a birding group from Klamath Basin on Facebook and learned after we got home that the refuge closed the auto tour in that area to try to protect the birds from people.  I wish they had done it before the herons abandoned their nest. 

What we did see however, were many eagles perched high in the cottonwoods watching the wetlands for their next tasty duck dinner.  The one eagle was on the window side of the car, so I was able to shoot the photo without disturbing him.  In the trees on the west side of the road and the canal there were 2 or 3 eagles in each tree, but harder to get a good shot because of the branches and lighting.  Still it was great to see so many eagles.

We returned to the MoHo parked at the entrance to the refuge auto tour and settled in for a nice lunch as the winds kicked up with a coming storm.  Returning to Grants Pass that afternoon we were grateful for the perfect timing of our trip since the very next day there were storms and snows over the High Lakes Pass that was part of our return route.

Sunday, March 1, 2020

03-01-2020 Celebrating Mo’s 80th

If there is one thing I know for sure about Mo, after all these years, it is that a big party in her honor is about her least favorite thing.  When my kids said, “Geez, Mom, it’s her 80th!  We need to have a party!" I said the best birthday present we can give her is NOT having a party.

Instead we celebrated by spending the entire day doing something just for the two of us.  The last time we had a meal at Wolf Creek Inn was in 2009, a year when we still lived in snowy Rocky Point.  A trip over the mountain was a great way to get away from winter, and I still remember the rather incredible Bacon Lettuce Avocado Tomato sandwich I had on that lovely day.

Mo found a coupon in our local paper for Sunday brunch at the Inn, which has been remodeled and refurbished since we last visited. One morning she said to me, “This is my choice for my birthday”.  Perfect.  I called and made a reservation.  She also said, “After brunch, let’s go to Crater Lake”.  Another perfect choice.  We haven’t been to Crater Lake in a couple of years, and most of the time we go there in order to show the magnificent blue to visiting friends.

Going to brunch north of Grants Pass first meant returning south of Grants Pass to continue east toward the mountains.  We knew there would be snow at Crater Lake, where the snows often pile up a dozen feet deep clear into May.  What surprised us was the gorgeous blue bird day that greeted us on Sunday morning, Mo’s special day.

Wolf Creek Inn was built around 1883 for Henry Smith, a local merchant-entrepreneur. Wolf Creek Tavern, as it was known then, was exceptionally well crafted by local sawyers. It served local traffic to mines and stage travelers connecting between Roseburg and Redding prior to the completion of the Oregon and California railroad through the Siskiyou Mountains in 1887.

Wolf Creek Inn is the oldest continuously operated hotel in the Pacific Northwest. It is here that Jack London completed his novel Valley Of The Moon. As an important stop on the 16 day stagecoach journey from San Francisco to Portland, the Wolf Creek Tavern has housed practically every important person found in the Northwest during the early history of Oregon.

Back in the early days of movies, the Inn became a refuge for beleaguered actors seeking an escape from demanding Hollywood studios. Clark Gable was a good friend of the innkeeper in the 1930s and stopped by several times while fishing the Rogue River just a few miles west of the Inn. Other visitors that have signed the guest register include Carole Lombard and Orson Wells.

Between 1975 and 1979, the Inn was acquired by the State of Oregon and restored. Wolf Creek Tavern is listed in the National Register of Historic Places. It is among the best preserved and oldest active travelers inns in Oregon.

When we arrived at the Inn, there were only a few guests, and our reservation may have been unnecessary. We settled in at a small window table and enjoyed the ambience of the old wooden floor and the wide ceiling planks.  A photo of Henry Smith watched over us as we dined.  The brunch was interesting, completely different than any we have enjoyed in the past.  The buffet portion of the brunch was in another room and consisted of some strange offerings for breakfast, including various German sausages and sauerkrauts, some kind of meat balls with gravy, and apple strudel.  Our brunch purchase included a cocktail of our choice, bloody mary or mimosa, the buffet choices, and what was called the “main plate”, which could also be ordered off the menu.  It was a bit confusing, with the buffet choices offered first so that by the time we received our main plate we were already well sated. For me, the bloody mary might have been enough.  Delicious!

After we ate, we retired to the front parlor with our unfinished drinks and enjoyed the warm fire.  A few folks came and went, a tiny girl running and playing, a young woman sitting down at the piano, people wandering around the house looking at the antiques and waiting for their turn at breakfast, or simply enjoying the public areas after staying at the Inn.

Leaving the Inn around 12, we headed back south on the interstate to the exit for the road east to Crater Lake.  Highway 234 winds along the Rogue River toward Shady Cove where it intersects with Highway 62.  We are very familiar with the other end of Highway 62 since it follows the southern boundary of Crater Lake National Park toward Fort Klamath in the Wood River Valley not far from where we used to live in Rocky Point.

One of my favorite vistas along Highway 62 as it approaches Prospect and Union Creek is the huge forest of Douglas fir and incense cedar that lines both sides of the highway.  The Rogue River flows unseen just to the west of the highway until it reaches the natural bridges area where trails and swinging pedestrian bridges cross the wild chasm of the Rogue flowing through basalt caves.  A wondrous place during the season, but the road is closed during the winter so no visit to the bridge this time.

As we continued up the mountain toward Crater Lake the snows got deeper and deeper along the highway, with the vertical walls created by snowplows more than a dozen feet high in places.  With the brilliant sunshine we marveled at the shadows of trees on the snowbanks.

We entered the park with our geezer pass and were surprised that the road leading to the south rim and Crater Lake Lodge was actually in better shape than parts of Highway 62 outside the park boundary.  The skies were incredibly blue and as we approached the Rim we could see strong winds blowing snow off the ridges around us and a heavy rime of ice on the trees along the highest ridges.

It was 27 F when we reached the Rim, and the snow banks were high enough that it was impossible to see the lake without climbing up the deep snowbanks.  We drove around the parking lot of the closed lodge and found a place to park not far from an access point that seemed not terribly difficult, even though it was hard packed snow and ice and incredibly slippery.

The shock of 27 degrees and a strong wind coming up from the lake was a surprise, and I had a terrible time trying to get photos of the lake with the phone.  Good thing I hadn’t tried to carry a big camera.  The lake was literally navy blue.  I have seen it at all stages of weather and all colors of blue, but I think this was the darkest ever.  I was completely frustrated that there were bright yellow cords and orange poles marking the boundary of what was safe enough to avoid a snowy crash into the crater.  With my freezing hands and the brilliant sun in my eyes, taking photos was almost impossible, and Mo and I laughed ourselves silly trying to get a selfie with the lake in the background. 

We walked back to the parked car and found another access point a bit farther down the rim and got out once again to brave the cold and to give Mattie a bit of an outing.  She was so excited to be on that snow, and we are pretty sure she thought it was just another cold sand dune and was ready to run wildly in circles.  Mo didn’t dare let her off the leash or she might have gone flying right down those snowy cliffs.  Once again, I tried to take photos of the two of them walking on the snowy ridge, but with my freezing fingers, trying to hold on to the sticks to keep from falling on the ice, hold the phone and see the completely blackened out display, I just gave up.  Only in our memories.

We didn’t stay long, happy to get back into our warm car in the warm sunshine.  Enough time had passed that we could adhere to tradition and stop in at Beckie’s Cafe for berry pie on the way home.  Beckie’s is famous locally, and most everyone who lives near Crater Lake on either side of the Cascades knows about their pies. 

On this sunny Sunday afternoon, we were lucky to get a booth for our delicious late afternoon dessert.  The pie was a delicious as always, and the coffee was served in heavy old fashioned mugs that have been part of old fashioned diners since I can remember.

It was a great day to spend a birthday.  When we returned home just before dark that evening, Mo found many birthday greetings, both email and facebook to honor her day.  Say what you will about Facebook, one of the more delightful aspects is getting all those birthday greetings from people who might never think to send an actual card.  Mo had real cards as well, and we lined them up as we traditionally do for birthdays and holidays on the bookshelf near the fireplace.

Happy 80th Birthday Mo!