COMING HOME

Once again it was time to set off for our twice yearly return to our cabin in Washington. How quickly time passes. Perhaps as we get older the passage of time really does speed up, not just "appear" to. It seems as if the treadmill of our lives has slowly, incrementally sped up, fraction by fraction, over the years, until its now at such a point its time to hold onto those handlebars! As though the hole in the proverbial hourglass has been, slowly but steadily, ground by the coarse sand, into an ever larger hole and that sand has begun to flow faster and faster. All I know is had I blinked I would have missed this past year.

I knew in advance, having checked weather conditions, that we would be entering snow country on this trip. We deliberately had held off on this trip until mid November so as to be able to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with Derek, Amy and our two grandchildren, on our return trip. After driving as far as Redding we stopped after dark for the night, eager to get a fresh and early start the next morning, which would put us at our cabin door by late afternoon. The air was crisp and cold, frost emminent, and we shivered as we pulled on heavy sweaters over our southern cal t-shirts.

Enthusiastically we encountered our first snows in the passes of southern Oregon. The air was crisp and clean, fluffy white powder heavy on the trees. I was like a foreign traveller from some tropical belt, snapping my camera constantly, filling it up to the brim with snow pictures! As if I might never encounter this wonderous delight ever again!

Leaving behind the winter wonderland that was Oregon's expansive forests, we descended into all of autumn's magnificent glory in the valley below. The golds, oranges and reds far surpassing anything we ever see in southern Cali. A familiar feeling of "coming home" again settled upon us, as we found ourselves snug in the embrace of these comforting, colorful arms. We passed through countless miles of family farms, idyllic pastures with grazing sheep and cattle, cows "as they should be" I like to say, far removed from the large corporate factory farms we see throughout California. (click on these pictures, and then click on them again, to get a better feel for the scenes)

As we neared our cabin in the woods, it was clear a recent and heavy snowstorm had passed through. There were no tracks at all along the south lake road to our property and our solid 4X4 Ford determinedly pushed its way forward through what seemed feet of snow. As we "found" and entered our private driveway, the path downward was lined with trees so heavy with snow they touched in the middle, as if joining hands. It was like slowly pushing through a white curtain, unveiling at last, the wide white expanse that contained our cabin, our lake, our home.


To Rod and I, there is nothing quite like this experience, the coming back to all things familiar. Our life these past years (7 now) have been an interesting and exciting adventure at times, as California is extraordinarily different from the northwest where we lived all our days prior. The move to follow our son, in order to stay in his life and support him during his Govt-imposed "exile" has also been at times lonely with more than our share of heartbreaks along the way. And always we have counted the days off some invisible calendar, to the time this chapter in all our lives reaches its inevitable conclusion, as it surely must, and we make a last and final trip "home".


Home is a shelter from storms - all sorts of storms. ~William J. Bennett