11-30-2025 A Month of Minor Disasters and Major Blessings

I stepped into November thinking it would be a simple, ordinary month, and instead it turned into one long lesson in patience, gratitude, and keeping my sense of humor.

Mo loads many loads of leaves into the small trailer we take to the dump

In spite of the insurance trauma near the end of October, we began the month feeling that life was just about perfect. Deborah had a load of yard debris, and we had a truck and trailer to haul it. The yard-waste dump we use is in Merlin, right near a wonderful little café we wanted to share with Deb. Just a few minutes north of Grants Pass, the Riffle Café brings a gentle island breeze to Merlin with a warm, welcoming vibe and a menu full of comfort food.

I took this photo from the Riffle Cafe webite

It’s comfort with a Hawaiian twist. The owners came from Maui, and the atmosphere reflects that, friendly and slightly quirky island-style décor, with walls and ceilings covered in colorful iguana and turtle metal sculptures that create a laid-back “ohana” feel. Add in the sourdough pancakes and mimosas by the jug, and it makes for a comforting, satisfying meal. It was the first day of November, and we were completely clueless about what was to follow.

All three of us truly enjoyed our morning treat at the Riffle Cafe

There are many little treasures around Grants Pass, tucked away in unlikely places. Another is the Rogue Creamery on a winding country road west of town. I saw a notice in the local news that the farm stand was closing.

A grilled cheese sandwich on a sunny afternoon was delightful

Rogue Creamery isn’t the little local creamery it once was. In 2018, it was bought by the French cheese giant Savencia Fromage & Dairy, and now operates as a subsidiary of that Paris-based corporation. Their flagship Rogue River Blue went on to be named World Champion Cheese at the 2019/2020 World Cheese Awards in Italy — the first American cheese ever to win that honor. I’m proud of that, and I still love serving Rogue Blue on a special-occasion cheese board and sending it to a very few friends for the holidays.

Happy cows at the Rogue Creamery before it closed

But the little dairy farmstand out on Lower River Road clearly didn’t fit the new corporate model. The Grants Pass farm store, with its grilled cheese sandwiches, the cows, and the picnic tables by the river, is gone now, while the more efficient Central Point shop and the global cheese machine roll on.

It’s a strange thing, watching a place you love slip away: the grilled cheese sandwiches, the cows, the feeling that something local and ours was still hanging on. I can get sentimental about cheese, apparently. I’m sad about it, sad that so much feels like it’s changing or being swallowed up. And yet here I am, part of this new world that’s replacing the old.

On that same day, the first day of November, after we returned from the dump and a lovely breakfast, I discovered that there was no hot water coming from any faucet in the house. After eight years of service, our water heater decided to give up the ghost.

It takes some time to find this information on the water heater.  Mexico?

Doing without hot water isn’t the worst thing in the world. We have a stove and heat, and electricity, and plenty of cold water. We have a hot tub to at least rinse our bodies each night in lovely hot water under the stars, IF and when we could see them, but that is another story about November: the unrelenting fog, day and night, with only a few afternoon breaks during the entire month.

Mo has one of those homeowner fix-it plans, and once again, they came through for us. The final repair for the new water heater installation was much less than we would have had to pay without the insurance. Only two years ago, we replaced a dead refrigerator with the same insurance. Yes, six to eight years seems to be the life span of most appliances these days, even the good ones. When we built this house, we did not buy cheap stuff.

Mattie knows the best way to enjoy cold foggy days

In spite of the unrelenting fog and the crazy house problems, I spent a lot of November feeling grateful. It was chilly, foggy, and rainy, but I was warm and dry, with a cozy house wrapped around me. I had ten bucks in my pocket to treat myself to a great coffee while I was out shopping. I could buy groceries without worrying about it. I slept several nights with little pain. There is so much to be grateful for, so many things I have that so many don’t.

As I wrote last month, Mo has had homeowners and vehicle insurance policies with Farmers since 1997 and has never made a claim. It seems that even though the Oregon Fire Risk Map created last year was legally challenged, it still had an effect on how people are insured in our state. Farmers said we were in a high-risk zone in the urban interface and therefore they were no longer insuring homes in this area.

That led to a bit of panic, and we searched for a company that would still insure us. As I wrote last month, late in October, we did find a new agent and a new company, and after a lot of stress, we were again insured. Of course, no longer having a homeowners policy with Farmers increased the rates for the vehicles, and that was just plain irritating. Mo canceled all her policies with Farmers, and at last, toward the very end of the month, the insurance thing was handled.

Our Douglas-fir before the trim

What that entailed was a bit traumatic. The new insurance company sent an aerial photo of our property (which I posted with last month's blog), saying we had to remove any and all branches and limbs that were overhanging any outbuildings. We do have some huge trees. Our Douglas-fir and Ponderosa pine qualify as old growth, between 170 and 200 years old.

Some neighbors were a bit shocked after the trim

Once again, we called Rico, our fabulous tree guy, and he came out with an estimate for trimming back the big fir and some of the old oaks to qualify. It was stressful watching that old fir get trimmed up so high, and even with all that trimming, there was still a hint of a branch overhanging the MoHo shed by a few feet. Those branches were seventy feet up, but we weren’t sure about passing the inspection.

We call him "monkey man", the most amazing tree climber

Mo spent nearly every day raking leaves and tree debris, and we hauled eleven loads in the trailer to the dump. Some people try to burn their leaves, but for us it’s nearly impossible with the very few burn days that seem to occur when everything is soaking wet from fog and rain. So off to the dump we go. Mattie loves it because there is always a doggy treat at the pay kiosk.

This photo was taken AFTER one of Mo's many raking projects

By the end of the month, the trees were trimmed, the leaves almost gone, the appliances all working, and the house and cars finally insured. Our agent said he had heard nothing about the visual inspection, and no news is probably good news.

We took a little break on Veterans' Day for something we have done almost every year since Applebee's began their free meal for veterans back in 2008.  Deb joined us and took this picture of Mo and me enjoying a nice meal.  We like the hometown comfort of our local Applebee's restaurant, and the new merger with IHOP didn't seem to change much, except for some breakfast items on the menu.  The best part of this small celebration is seeing all the vets from all the different eras that come in for their honorary meal.  Many Viet Nam hats that day in Grants Pass.  What Mo and I remember most about the Applebee's meal in Klamath Falls was the restaurant full of current military men from the Kingsley Field Base celebrating with their families.

In the midst of all the house worries, I finished the book selected for my book club. It was a quick read, entertaining but not particularly memorable or challenging. I decided to pick up an old book that I had treasured and read at least two decades ago.

Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver, wrapped around me in a way few books do, warm, earthy, insistent. It’s a story about cycles, growth, decay, and renewal, which felt just right for November. Every character wrestles with something they can’t quite control: the pull of family, the tug of desire, the stubborn will of the natural world. Maybe that’s why her books still fit me. They allow for loose ends. They honor the tangled parts of life without insisting that everything be tied up with a bow. Still, the open end of Prodigal Summer left me unsettled.

The book affected me differently than it did years ago, when I first read it sitting in a big chair watching Northern Idaho snow drift past the windows. Back then, the world still felt wide open. This time, I found myself sinking into the layers, the questions, the way memory takes me back to a place. Kingsolver writes landscapes the way other people write characters, and reading her now feels like walking into a familiar house and noticing the wallpaper has changed.

At eighty, part of what unsettles me about open endings is knowing I won’t see the endings of so many stories around me, my great-grandchildren, my daughters, the country I love. Maybe that’s why an unfinished story leaves me feeling a little unmoored. Still, the beauty is in the living, not the knowing. I want to savor what I can while I’m here to watch the fog mute the colors outside the windows.

I’m glad I am at the end of life and not at the beginning. I don’t have to figure out how the story will end. What I have instead is the pleasure of noticing small mercies, warm rooms, familiar books, the last grilled cheese from a place that mattered.

Thanksgiving was the perfect ending to a thoughtful and sometimes tough month. Daughter Deborah decided to host this year, choosing to have her big turkey dinner on the actual day in her home for the first time since she bought it.

Matthew and Katty waiting for dinner at Deb's

She cooked and decorated, and on Thursday, our meal was everything our family loves about sharing Thanksgiving. The recipes that are traditional recipes are the ones that are the most comforting. I made the orange-brandied yams that I’ve made since the early 80s. I made a simple dressing without any fancy stuff, delicious and loved by everyone. Deb managed to spatchcock the turkey, and it cooked perfectly. She made her original creamed vegetable, which has also been a family favorite for years.

We had a perfect table of five, with grandson Matthew and his sweetie Katty, Mo and me, and of course our hostess, Deborah.

Melody and Robert chose to host Thanksgiving at their home in Brownsville for their kids and spouses, and then to travel south on Friday to share another Thanksgiving meal of “leftovers” at Deb’s.

Melody and Robert waiting for Thanksgiving Number 2 at Deb's

Once again, we had a perfect table of five, with Melody and Robert, Mo and me, and our hostess, Deborah.

Even though we didn’t all sit at the table on the same day, it didn’t matter one bit. We had family time and great food, and lots of hugs all around.

Melody and Robert spent the night here at Sunset House, and there is nothing I love more than waking in the morning to the smell of coffee and the sight of my son-in-law and my daughter in jammies on the couch, snuggled up with knitting.

When the month finally settled, I found myself grateful for the love around me and for the simple comfort of knowing I am exactly where I need to be.

So grateful for Home

10-31-2025 Another October to Enjoy

early October, and the lower yard is already turning green again

When October arrives after our long, hot summers here in Southern Oregon, it comes slowly. Often the days continue that hot, dry pattern we’re used to, but this year we had a bit of a reprieve. The rains came early, wetting the ground enough that our dry lower pasture began turning green again by the first week.

We started the month with a swirl of to-do lists, and yet the shorter days and cooler nights were so welcome. The smell of rain drifting through open windows, and the very first yellow leaf on the oak outside our living room window, felt like a tiny promise of what was to come.

The roses love the cooler weather of October

As part of settling into fall, we made appointments for the usual maintenance items, carpets cleaned, windows washed, the MoHo scheduled for service. Mo changed the furnace filters and replaced the small stock tank beneath the water wheel with a larger one to avoid the overspray that wasted water. The saga with the Tractor Supply store in town was not fun, and we ended up driving north to Myrtle Creek to pick up the new tank.

For me, the first of October is when I allow myself to pull down the orange bins from the upstairs storage area in the RV shed and unpack all the little goodies that mark the shift from summer to fall. I love decorating for Halloween, and it doesn’t matter one whit whether anyone visits,  I’d still do it just for us.

Yes, I was there too

Early in the month, when the weather was close to perfect, one of the young women in my book group got married. It was such a delight to be invited to Robyn and Kenny’s wedding at her mother’s beautiful property on the rural edge of Grants Pass. 

The handfasting ceremony and vows were genuinely moving, and the décor was gorgeous. I sat at a table with ten of Robyn’s friends from her belly-dancing and pole-dancing classes. Fascinating conversations, to say the least.

On October 10, Mo and I turned on the gas fireplace in the living room for the first time this season. The central heating works just fine, but there is nothing quite like a live flame to warm up a gray day.

It is nice when the evenings cool down enough in the fall for supper on the deck

Somewhere in the middle of it all came the “where-does-the-time-go” experiment. I couldn’t figure out why my days felt so full, so I kept a day-long chronicle in my calendar, writing down everything, raking, shopping, coffee, puzzles, hot tub, dinner prep. I realized my time wasn’t wasted at all; it was simply life in its ordinary rhythm: errands, meals, rest, and the quiet company of home.

Later in the month, a visit with my doctor (whom I adore) brought some much-needed relief from lingering pain after my August fall while clipping roses. Dr. Ian is a master with a needle, and a cortisone shot to the hip eventually did the trick. I’m able to walk much better now.

Most of you already know I have IBM, Inclusion Body Myositis. It’s a bit like living with a body that keeps changing the rules. Walking has become a small adventure sport; every trip to the kitchen carries a hint of suspense. My muscles are never predictable, and some days are better than others, especially earlier in the day. Dr. Ian was concerned enough to order X-rays. The results were reassuring, if boring: mild to moderate arthritis in the lower spine, nothing dangerous, nothing requiring surgery. Yay, me. IBM makes for weak muscles, but aside from that, I just have the typical mileage that almost everyone collects over time. I’ve developed a new appreciation for our hot tub and my nighttime heating pad for making life much more comfortable.

On October 18, Grants Pass had quite a turnout for the “No Kings Day Rally.” I participated, walker and all, and even ran into a few neighbors. Word was that more than 2,000 people showed up, an impressive gathering for our smallish community.

Red Lily Vineyards on a fall afternoon is truly gorgeous

That afternoon, Mo, my daughter Deborah, and I traveled south along the Applegate River to one of our favorite wineries. We had a wine order to pick up, which is always a good excuse for a visit. Deb and I both love their carrot-ginger soup, and the sandwiches are reliably delicious. The place was busy, full of people enjoying the sunshine. 

Daughter Deb enjoying the animated decor at the Red Lily Tasting Room

Chris and Rachel like Red Lily as much as we do

Watching people entering, I noticed a man’s T-shirt that said “Oregon Society of Soil Scientists” and thought, Huh. I wonder who’s wearing that? When I looked up from the logo, I got quite a surprise; it was my dear friend Chris, MLRA leader from Klamath Falls. We have a long history together, and it was delightful to see him and his sweet wife, Rachel, here on our home turf.

As the month progressed, the fall colors in Grants Pass exploded. By late October, the domesticated sweet gums planted all over town stole the show, even brighter than the maples. 

Toward the end of the month, the yard began filling with leaves faster than we could pretend to manage, and it felt like we were spending half our lives trying to keep ahead of the mess.

Then came the gut punch: after 35 years of homeowners' insurance with not a single claim, Farmers dropped us like a hot potato for the crime of living in Southern Oregon. After some hand-wringing and many phone calls, we found a broker with a carrier willing to insure us, with caveats. 

google image sent to us by the insurer with trees that needed to be cut back

Our ancient Douglas-fir before we completed the required trim

That included removing any branch from any tree overhanging any roof. Our tree guy came out again to trim the 200-year-old Douglas-fir and the 170-year-old black oaks behind Mo’s workshop as high as he safely could. That job wasn't finished until early November.  I'll update you on the outcome in the blog post for November. We’re still waiting on final approval from the inspector, but the agent has been encouraging. As you can imagine, the stress level has been significant.

In between yard days and insurance days and leaf days, I retreated into the kitchen. I decided to make ice cream in the pretty Cuisinart ice cream maker I received for my birthday. The first batch was an uncooked chocolate, and I didn’t realize the recipe was too big for the machine. It expanded and overflowed, leaving sloppy chocolate ice cream all over the counter and into the sink.

oops

Batch two was supposed to be easier: a simple vanilla custard. I consider myself an adequate cook, but apparently, I did not have the slightest clue how to cook custard properly. It foamed, curdled, and misbehaved in every possible way. With help from my ChatGPT buddy, I rescued it by blending it in small batches, and once that was done, the coffee-butter-almond-fudge-ribbon result was fantastic.

There were bright spots, too. I had a lovely lunch with Kristin at The Twisted Cork with great food and a couple of hours of conversation and easy laughter.

My youngest daughter saw the only photo I remembered to take of our gathering.  She said, "Someday archaeologists will learn how incredibly important table settings were in our era."

The pumpkin cheesecake truffles were a bit less perfect

Then it was the end of the month and time for our book club meeting here at Sunset House. I made several dishes, including appetizers and the Red Lily carrot-ginger soup I found a recipe for. I also tested a recipe promising “elegant Halloween truffles.” Well. The recipe promised elegant orange-striped truffles. What I produced looked like someone dropped a dozen googly-eyed baby pumpkins on the counter and left them to fend for themselves. The white-chocolate coating seized, a term I learned the hard way, and the orange drizzle blobbed into little pupils on the white eyeballs. The women in my book group insisted they looked more like “boobies.”

By the time October faded, the lawns were fed, the MoHo was prepped for winter, the trees were trimmed, and the world felt a bit more settled. It wasn’t a dazzling month, except for the fall colors, and we decided to cancel our planned camping trip due to the heavy rains predicted for the coast.

Johnny's burial tree, showing the best color yet

This year, my son’s tree, planted with his ashes, decided to show its full color as well. I made sure it had plenty of water this year and was rewarded with that beautiful rainbow of color that helped us to choose it five years ago.

Still amazes me what can bloom in the late fall

The month held more of a quiet glow, foggy mornings, rain here and there, flashes of gorgeous afternoon sun, and a warm, cozy house. The leaves are still falling, and as I write this in mid-November, it’s dark outside and Mo is still out there raking. The raking will continue into December this year, and we still haven’t had a single frost. It’s the time of year that reminds you that quiet days, warm light, and small victories are what hold everything together when the world outside turns gray.

The catalpa tree glows best on early fall mornings

We closed out October with that familiar feeling: tired, a little creaky, but grateful. Grateful for home, for Mo, for Mattie’s morning races down the hall, for ice-cream victories, and even for the chaos of falling leaves reminding us that the seasons keep turning, whether we’re ready or not.

Indoors by the fire on a chilly morning is a great place to be

Mattie's second favorite place to be.  First favorite is in a lap

09-30-2025 September The "Big Birthday" Month

 

The lower half of the property is dry all summer until the rains begin in the fall

As I write, it is early October and already raining. Fall this year has been much different than we usually see here in Grants Pass. Often it’s still dry and warm, and I watch flowers, lawns, and trees suffer with heat and drought even into October.

No matter how much I water, the dogwood suffers the most from our hot summers

As September began, life was about easing into the changing needs of early fall. We caught up on doctor visits, skin checks, eye checks, and took care of the myriad chores that somehow take up so much time. We had to have keys made for the new truck, with a big surprise when I learned they would cost $120 each! Mo harvested the last of the apples, and I made another pie, even better than the last one.

The flowers love it when the temperatures of summer ease into fall

This year, September gave the gift of wetting rains on the 7th, then again for a few days mid-month, and another shower on the last day of the month. It was amazing to watch our dry pasture grasses begin to show green long before September was over. Usually, we don’t see green until mid-October, sometimes even into November.

Look at that green grass coming already, and the springtime poppies are really confused

My friend Maryruth and I were laughing the other day about our California friends who think of Oregon as a wet and rainy state. They don’t realize that “Oregon” and “Southern Oregon” are very different regions. Our climate here has more in common with the hot, dry parts of Northern California than the misty forests up north. Another fact that’s often forgotten is that more than a quarter of Oregon is what we locally call “high desert.”

Followers of this blog know that Mo and I love the high deserts of Oregon and have spent many happy travels camping there. The Oregon high desert feels like another planet with wide horizons where light and shadow trade places all day long. Sagebrush and juniper scent the wind, and the silence is palpable. Volcanic ridges and dry lakebeds hold the memory of ancient seas, and as Mo and I often say, “I can feel my eyeballs stretching.”

However, this September we had other plans.

I was three in the photo the kids enlarged for the birthday party

In celebration of what’s considered a somewhat momentous birthday, my 80th, our family planned a shared outing to the coast. Originally, I chose a house just south of Cannon Beach for the gathering. The daughters hunted for the house and reserved it more than a year in advance. We had imagined spouses, grandkids, and extended family joining us, but we learned quickly that many houses have a one-week minimum stay and won’t allow pets under any circumstances. After a bit of sticker shock for a week near Cannon Beach, we did some rethinking.

None of us really wanted to stay an entire week, and the cost was prohibitive, especially after we learned that Deanna’s husband Keith, couldn’t make it and Melody’s husband Robert, would be working out of the country.

The house in the middle, barely visible above the beach pines, is "Once Upon a Tide"

Instead, we chose three perfect days at a great house called Once Upon a Tide in the beachfront town of Rockaway Beach, on Oregon’s northern coast in Tillamook County, stretching about seven miles along the sandy shoreline.

The view south along the coast from the trail to the beach

Rockaway Beach is a laid-back, family-friendly town where visitors come to walk the shore, fly kites, hunt shells, and breathe salt air. In town there’s a sprinkling of local shops, seafood restaurants, and the Cedar Wetlands Nature Preserve, home to the “Big Tree,” thought to be hundreds of years old. Once a resort destination connected by train in the early 1900s, Rockaway still carries that nostalgic coastal charm, quieter than many Oregon Coast towns yet rich with shoreline drama and sea-wind stories. It was the perfect choice for our celebration.

Originally, when I chose Cannon Beach, I imagined the shopping opportunities, the great restaurants, and the beautiful beach. The more we planned our time at Rockaway, the more we realized that eating out and shopping weren’t high on the agenda and that simply hanging out together was the priority.

We planned our meals with each daughter sharing a night of cooking. All I needed to do was show up with a couple of salads.

In addition, the fact that our time together was limited to just Mo and me and the daughters made it even more special. It has been years since I’ve had time like this with my three girls, and I treasured every single minute.

The kitchen and dining area were very roomy and comfortable

The house was lovely, with two levels. The top floor included the kitchen and dining area, a big cozy living room with lots of reclining chairs and sofas, and a wonderful master suite with a very comfortable bed.

The three bedrooms were downstairs in what was obviously a space designed for large parties with a pool table, ping pong, beer fridge, and big screen TV. I only needed to use those stairs a couple of times, once entering the house and once leaving.

The living room faced the outside deck with a somewhat limited view of the ocean beyond the sea grass. It wasn’t a long walk to the beach, and there were no dunes to climb to get there. In addition, there was a big, spotless hot tub on the deck.

Yummy drinks and wine with our first night supper of beer-battered halibut and chips with cole slaw

We arrived on Sunday afternoon and settled in right away, with Melody taking charge of dinner that night. She brought a huge chunk of fresh halibut and made superb beer-batter fish and chips. I haven’t had halibut that good since Mo and I were in Alaska.

Lots of room for relaxing and visiting

The evening stretched into a lovely sunset, and the five of us sat around laughing and talking together until that comfy bed finally called to me. I think the girls stayed up much later, scheming plans for the next day.

The girls went all out for the birthday decor

I woke up on my birthday morning and stepped out of the bedroom to the most amazing sight. The girls had filled the upstairs with decorations, flowers, candles, birthday signs, and balloons. I was so moved and so thrilled. Everywhere I looked, there was something delightful and creative to smile about, such a wonderful surprise.

Look close and you can see Mattie off leash to the right of Mo on this lovely beach morning

One of the nicest things about staying at this particular house was the ease of getting to the beach. We could walk there whenever we felt like it, all together, or just Mo and me, or Mo and Mattie. I’m not sure how many times we walked the beach, but each one was a treasure.

For lunch that day we drove the two miles into the main area of town to visit the famous Pronto Pup. Rockaway Beach claims a delicious bit of history. In 1939, George and Versa Boyington were selling hot dogs near the sand when a rainstorm ruined their buns. George whipped up a cornmeal batter, dipped the franks, and the Pronto Pup was born. They trademarked the recipe soon after, making Rockaway’s stand the first of its kind, though Texans still swear by the Fletcher brothers’ “Corny Dog” from the early 1940s, and Illinois boasts its own Cozy Dog claim. Still, on the Oregon Coast, locals insist the corn dog’s true birthplace came with a view of the Pacific.

The corn dogs were wonderful, although I still think the foot-long ones Mo and I shared at the Balloon Festival at 5:30 in the morning, waiting for the sun to rise, were the best ever. On the other hand, the pickle dog was a true bust, nothing like the fried pickles that Mo and I had at Pickle’s Burgers and Shakes in Seaside, Florida.

Melody enjoying the goodies at the fun beach store

After lunch we did succumb to a bit of shopping in town, enjoying the eclectic offerings at Flamingo Jim’s Gifts and Clothing. Deb found a garden bench she loved, but I didn’t spend a penny there, in spite of all the treasures that filled the aisles.

Melody took the photo so she isn't in this one

That evening was the “birthday dinner,” a magnificent spread of home-smoked ribs that Deb prepared before coming, with all the goodies to go along with it. 

After dinner, we shared another wonderful walk on the beach, watching the sun set over the ocean. Everyone took so many gorgeous photos of the family and the sunset that I created an entire album of just that evening walk on the beach.  Here are just a few:

This last photo captures the perfect essence of our time at the beach and I will treasure it forever

The day was topped with a delicious birthday cake that Deborah made, a perfect rendition of a favorite of mine, Sticky Toffee Pudding. She even made a creamy caramel sauce to drizzle on top and gifted each of us an extra jar to take home. Another surprise was a shiny new Cuisinart Ice Cream Maker the girls bought for me. We christened it that night with a batch of truly luscious vanilla ice cream to go with the cake.

Our last day at the beach was sweetly calm and lovely. In spite of some talk about “doing something,” we ended up just hanging around together, talking and laughing. We had even brought puzzles to share, which stayed in their boxes. We never once turned on any of the TVs in the house. 

On our last evening at the beach house, Deanna treated us to her special recipe chicken enchiladas. It seems on that last day, I didn't take nearly enough photos, and completely missed photos of the enchilada supper.  They were so yummy, and we had plenty of leftovers.  In fact, we all left the beach with halibut, ribs, and enchiladas to take home and enjoy.

My best memory of the trip was simply the time with my girls, watching them enjoy each other and interact in ways they hadn’t had the chance to in years. With some of us living miles apart, it’s a rare gift to have everyone together all at once. It was the very best present I could have received.

I came home feeling loved, cared for, and happy to settle back into our daily rhythms.

Shortly after we returned from the beach, we were treated to an overnight visit from Joan, a friend from my years in northern Idaho. Joan travels between Idaho and Morro Bay for the winter season, and her route passes near our home. Once again, our choice to live near Interstate 5 paid off, and we offered Joan a cozy stopover. She insisted on taking us out to dinner as a thank you.

We slipped back into our Sunday brunch routine with Deborah, yard work during the day, puzzles in the afternoon, and preparations for fall. We enjoyed our first symphony of the season and spent an evening listening to music at Schmidt Winery with friends.

This time of year is so rewarding.  The grass gets greener, the flowers respond to cool temperatures and shorter days by growing fuller and more brilliant with each passing day.  

The most exciting thing toward the end of the month was the long-awaited tree work. An old madrone near our front gate was almost dead when Mo bought the property in 2012, but all these years later she was really gone. We could see space between the trunk and the ground, a clear sign she was about to tip over.

look close and you can see the tree climber in that big oak on the other side of the garage

We called our dependable tree guy, Rico, and he gave us a bid for that tree and another madrone leaning over the pump house. He also noticed that the huge oak beside our sidewalk was rotting at the base. We decided not to take any chances and had that one removed too.

It was sad to see her go after years of trying to keep her healthy. Her roots were disturbed when the house was built, and we always knew she might not survive long. Rico trimmed her a few years ago, but the top was much too heavy for the weakened base. Watching his climber take that tree down was both exciting and a little scary, but it all turned out fine. The empty space along the sidewalk feels a bit strange now, though I’m sure we’ll get used to it.

As I mentioned at the start of this post, it’s already October. The rain is expected to last a few more days, and the air is chilly. This morning I turned on the gas fireplace, our favorite marker of the shift from late summer into fall.