HARVEST IS OVER -- AND I MISSED IT!

I made a day trip to the farm last Friday (August 10^th) to water and wash clothes.  Mike had gone with friends on a motorcycle trip into the Oregon wilderness, so it was a perfect opportunity for a friend to ride along with me. We had a delightful day. The clothes dried quickly in the heat and we were on our way back to town early in the afternoon.

 

When we were here on Friday, harvest was just beginning. The operation was in the canola fields at the corner of Dobson and Curfman Roads, about a mile from the farmhouse. I didn’t think much about it because our property was all in wheat, so it came as a complete surprise to me when we drove in yesterday and all of our wheat had been harvested. Even the neighbors fields have been harvested. And the harvesters are gone – not so much as the sound of a machine in the distance. It must have been a fast-paced three days, and we missed it.

 

I enjoy being here when they harvest. It brings the remembrance of what harvest was years ago. A feeling of excitement would pervade the agricultural community at harvest, the fulfillment of the year’s work. Harvest is noise and activity in an otherwise quiet environment. Harvest meant income for the farmer and jobs for laborers. And that naturally boosted the economy of our little towns. It was tiring work for everyone involved. If you were the farmer’s wife, it was part of your job description to prepare food for the farm hands, including bread, pies, cakes, cookies baked in hot weather over a wood stove (if you go back far enough). August is harvest time here, and I suppose that regionally it was three weeks to a month in duration.

 

These days, it’s all over in about a day. The work crew is minimal – machine operators and truck drivers. Our only interaction with them is a wave as they pass the house. They ask nothing of us except that we keep Nellie out of the way. (Nellie fears the lawn mower but not the huge combines.) Operating their machines from air-conditioned cabs, they bring their own lunch and unless a machine breaks down, they hardly stop. No, stopping to rest is no longer a necessity, and providing a meal to the workers is no longer part of the equation.

 

Even so, I’m disappointed that I missed it, but Mike says to look on the bright side: the windows were closed (I guarantee that plenty of dust will settle anyway) and we had no laundry on the line. And now we can walk the fields again.

 

After being closed over the weekend, the house was hot and stuffy yesterday, but with the windows open overnight, it’s pleasant right now. I'm getting ready to bake zucchini bread while it’s still cool. It’s supposed to be cooler today – 86 instead of 94 – with the heat building into the 90s again over the weekend (over 104 in the valley). It’s hazy with smoke from regional fires. KW

[The last three photos were taken at eventide. Farmland provides an ever-changing dynamic of light and shadow.]

WASTING NO TIME . . .

It only seems like I’m making snap decisions as I furnish my new “studio.” Over the years I’ve given a lot of thought to what my room would need.

After Mike’s bike ride Sunday morning, we went to Home Depot and bought the Closet Maid units – two of them (#12316) – just like the one he assembled for the laundry room. We had already measured the room, determined how much space the sofa would need, and moved the bookcase.

 

It took Mike three hours to assemble the first unit Sunday afternoon, but he accomplished the second one in two hours this morning.

 

The Closet Maid units aren’t great furniture, but I love them. Even though they’re rather expensive ($185.00 each), I just haven’t seen a better option at any price. Mike doesn’t claim to be a carpenter, but as a mechanic he has good assembly skills and he’s a pro at adjusting the hinges. (At least I’m impressed!)

 

This afternoon the sofa was delivered, the deep red a nice contrast with the white cupboards. I love it! 

With the sofa in place, Mike affixed the cabinets to the wall.  Now I can organize my stuff. I fear it’s really not enough storage for what I have in mind, but I’ll deal with it.

I didn’t know it would be such a light room. KW

OUT WITH THE OLD . . .

“Out with the old” doesn’t sound like my philosophy, does it? But it felt really good to give the white furniture to a growing family. The “next generation” princess arrived this morning so that her daddy and Uncle L.J. could load up the furniture for her room. This is a picture of Allyn and her mom. Allyn's baby brother will arrive in October, so she needs a new bed.

 

Allyn was more interested in the process than in the furniture -- typical two year old.

Grandma Becky, my niece, supports the foot of the bed while the headboard is loaded. She remembers when the bedroom suite was brand new.

Allyn helps her Great-Uncle L.J. with a drawer.

“Thank you so much,” they said as they left

“No, thank you!” was our response.

 

Here’s an old “before” picture of the room.

 

And here’s a new “before” picture. No matter what, the room is still small, but I have big plans for it. I want a lot of storage as much as I want a place to sew. Storage is so important to sewing and collecting. Mike and I agreed that we would waste no time getting the sewing room arranged, especially since I made 25 trips to the garage to stack boxes of stuff I cleaned out of the furniture, so this afternoon we visited Home Depot for fliers on the do-it-yourself storage cupboards.  

“If we were smart,” I suggested, “we would get the sofa sleeper first and then work around it.” Mike agreed, so we shopped Lewiston’s three furniture stores and returned to the first for the only one I really liked. It’s red with multi-colored throw pillows and a compact frame. Mike thought it was comfortable and said he would sit on it and watch me sew. The seller will deliver on Monday. KW

OREGON GRAPE

The phone was ringing when Mike and I arrived at the town house on Monday. It was Ken, and as we visited, I mentioned that I had tried to pick some Oregon grape at the farm.

“You mean,” he said slowly, “like the Oregon grape I have all over my back yard – the same Oregon grape that now has berries all over it?”

Ken and Ginny maintain a rather woodsy backyard. Perhaps it's the Oregon influence in their backgrounds. We agreed that I could pick all of the Oregon grape berries I wanted, and Tuesday I did just that. Ginny came out while I was there and questioned me closely about the edibility (apparently that really is a word) of these berries. I told her what I read in the field guide – that the berries are very bitter but make good jelly. After all, the birds eat them and see to it the seeds are spread everywhere. And besides, I added, my dad used to make Oregon grape jelly from time to time and those of us who ate it were not poisoned.

I've made the juice, but I haven’t made the jelly. The jelly-making equipment is on the farm, and that’s the best place to make jelly.

So, we came back to town expecting to stay a few days, but activities seem to be keeping us here: a P.E.O. summer social for me, a motorcycle ride with friends for Mike; a few appointments here; a few errands there; etc. And on Saturday my great-nephew is coming to get the white furniture for his little girl, my great-great niece. Or maybe it's "great grandniece."  (I’m feeling kinda old here!) These activities are spaced so as to make travel back to the farm impractical, not to mention that I must finish cleaning out the white drawers and shelves. It feels like work, too. It's always difficult when there's no place to put the stuff that has to be moved, and some of it is important to my immediate life. Baskets and boxes of fabric and sundries are going to the garage, and I look forward to putting the room back together again to reflect a new purpose.

It’s cooler today (about 95), but it has been record-setting hot. We feel a little apologetic about it since it’s nothing compared to what the people in the Midwest are suffering, but the Lewiston Tribune reports as follows: “For the third day in a row, highs in the Lewiston-Clarkston Valley broke through the triple-digit barrier on Tuesday, setting a record as well for the date with a thermometer reading of 107 degrees.” Nellie and I have been walking in the mornings when it’s cooler. Late in the afternoon, we take her to the river, which she loves to do. Mike throws a tennis ball for her to retrieve from the water. When she loses interest, she drops the ball in the rocks and weeds, but so far we’ve been able to find it. 

UPDATE
Under "Corrections" hidden in Section C of today's Lewiston Tribune: "The high temperature of 107 degrees on Tuesday was not a record. The record high temperature for Aug. 8 was listed as 109 degrees set in 1932, according to the National Weather Service in Spokane. Incorrect information, gathered from another source and incorrectly attributed to the National Weather Service, was used in Wednesday's edition because of a Lewiston Tribune error." 

Well anyway -- it was still hot. KW, 8-9-12

IN SEARCH OF OLD-TIME COUNTRY BERRIES

Fruits were not to be had except for wild strawberries which grew in such abundance that they were gathered for shortcakes. Trips were made out to the old home areas in the Southwick country for gooseberries and currants which were brought home for canning. Ethel Dobson Robinson on early days at Gilbert.

Fruit is very scarce here [this year], no cherries or prunes to speak of, apples scarce and poor, no currants or gooseberries, and only a few raspberries. It was too wet and cold this spring. We had a good crop of strawberries . . . Ina Dobson, July 1933

When Hallie brought Nick into the family circle, he came with a desire for new / old taste sensations through the processing of berries, preferably native or near-native – those found on the land rather than cultivated. He immediately enjoyed the elderberry jelly but was also ready to move beyond it. So they learned to make rose hip jelly, and back in Seattle they picked the blackberries so abundant there.

Here at Gilbert, they searched for more berry options, locating blackberries and black caps, which can be found but don’t seem to bear prolifically here. I think we all wondered, “What else could there be? What were the old-time taste treats?”

Well, this year has been a great berry identification year. Nick and Hallie brought thimbleberry jam made from berries picked in the Seattle area which we offered at the century farm celebration to rave reviews. Subsequently we went out to pick them and found thimbleberry bushes in profusion here.

Then I identified the service berry bushes and made a batch of jelly. We've been eating and sharing it, but one jar is stored for Nick to taste.

In May when Hallie was here, we visited a dump site on our property, and I noticed a low-growing shrub that looked like Oregon grape. Hallie took note when I mentioned that the berries of Oregon grape make good jelly. However, it wasn’t a bush but a kind of ground cover, and I learned that it’s a variety called “creeping Oregon grape.” 

Indeed, I did find berries on the creeping Oregon grape, and I found stands of it on either side of Dobson Road. However, the plant is invasive, and unfortunately the mother lode of berries sat on the edge of a field where it was hit by herbicide. Best not to use those berries. But – I know where and when to look for them now and there will be other years.

My dad grew Oregon grape (the “real” bush) beside the steps to his studio at the rear of the Orofino house.  Sometimes he made jelly with the berries, but he also used the leaves in place of holly in his Christmas decorations. In fact, I didn’t realize the invasiveness of the bush and the stigma against it until a few years ago when someone suggested eradicating a patch at my church. It’s definitely not a bush you want to introduce on your farm property.

I don't know what happened to the wild strawberries. Perhaps those plants were eradicated years ago. Or maybe someday I'll stumble upon a patch. KW

Joseph Plains

Joseph Plains is an area directly west of Grangeville, Idaho, although the best access (and possibly the only) to the area is down the Graves Creek Road out of Cottonwood, north of Grangeville.  If you look at a road map you will see no roads in this area.  There may be access from the Hammer Creek area near White Bird but I’m not sure.  I know there were settlers in this area in the late 1800’s but for some reason it didn’t grow.  There are now just a few scattered cattle ranches in the area.  The elevation of the plain is about 4,400 feet.

My first trip to Joseph Plains was in October of 2010 when a friend who was experiencing some health problems asked me to accompany him there to his hunting camp to help bring back his camp trailer.  I knew there were two Geocaches up there so naturally I planned to kill two birds with one stone.  Unfortunately my GPS receiver which was new at the time was giving me some problems so I was unable to locate the caches.  However, it was working long enough for me to place one.  It happened to be right at the hunting camp very near the pictured structure.  It was called “Ye Royal Crapper”.  Up until about a week ago no one had found it.

The cachers who found it are a husband and wife team in Lewiston who are friends of mine and also are the owners of the other two caches in the area.  While up there they also checked their caches and put them in good shape.  I had been wanting to get back up there to find those caches so as we were returning to town for a couple of days I decided it would be a good time to make the trip.

Wednesday morning I loaded up the BMW, as a good deal of the travel would be on gravel roads, and set out for Cottonwood.  The Graves Creek road out of Cottonwood is a nice paved road that takes you down to the Salmon River.  At the river the road forks.  The south fork goes for a couple of miles and is part of the Pine Bar Recreation Area.  I went chukar hunting in this area some years back and I remember getting no birds but getting very wet as it rained the whole time.  I turned north instead and went for about a mile to the Rice Creek Bridge across the Salmon River.  There was someone fishing on the bridge and I saw some rafters on the river below.

After crossing the bridge the pavement ends so I stopped to deflate my tires some to better accommodate the twisty gravel roads.  While I was doing this an old timer in a hay truck stopped and asked me to retrieve his mail for him at the nearby mailbox.  He said he was a lifelong resident of the area and asked what I was doing.  He had never heard of Geocaching so we got into quite a discussion.  I showed him a map of where I was going and he warned me to watch out for logging trucks.

If you are familiar with the Lewiston grade at Lewiston, Gilbert grade at Orofino, Greer Grade at Greer or Seven Mile Grade at Kamiah, they are all in the area of 1,800 to 1,900 feet in elevation gain.  In comparison the Rice Creek Grade rises over 3,100 feet and is a twisty gravel road.  You can be sure I was taking those sharp hairpin curves very slowly.  There was a logging truck in front of me so I stopped a couple of times to avoid catching up with his dust trail.  I passed him at the top where he had stopped and I thought that was unusually polite for a logger to worry about my eating his dust.

About three miles from the top I came to the first cache called “Joseph Plains – Boles”.  There were a few old structures here and it had apparently been a small settlement at some distant time.  While I was stopped the logger pulled up to see what I was doing (I guess) and I thanked him for letting me pass.  Turns out, that wasn’t the reason he stopped at all.  I should have known.  He was just getting some water to wash the dust off himself.  After finding the cache nearby I sat in the shade close to where the picture was taken and had my lunch.  At first I thought 8 cows were going to join me but they politely kept their distance.

The other cache was just over six miles further and I passed through a logging operation on the way.  I saw some great firewood opportunities in their slag piles but you would have to live up there to make it worthwhile.  The cache which required a short hike down a sloping meadow was called “Joseph Plains View” and it lived up to its name.  It was a little hazy but it gave a view all the way to the Seven Devils.

Just as I was getting back to my motorcycle I saw a logging truck coming up the road behind me.  I did not want to get in that dust so I quickly jumped on, stuck my gloves in my jacket and blasted off.  In less than a mile I couldn’t see him any more so either he was going quite a bit slower or turned off.

I made it back down the Rice Creek Grade with only one minor slip on one of the hairpins.  It was a really hot day and you could feel the temperature rise as you descended the grade.  After crossing the Salmon River bridge I found some shade on the Graves Creek road and stopped to inflate my tires for the pavement.  I made it back home around 4:00 pm having covered a little less than 200 miles.  As far as I know I didn’t lose or break anything. (The second picture is going down Graves Creek) M/W

WHAT FUN!

We looked forward to today's activities for a week. This morning we were up early to exercise during the cool hours. About 9:00 Mike put Nellie in her kennel, backed the Barracuda out of the garage, and we were off to Moscow. "Vroooom, chugga chugga chugga." We went by way of the old historic spiral highway.

Our first stop in Moscow was Stitches and Petals, a fabric shop and Bernina dealer. Last week I committed to buy the Artista 630, a discontinued sewing / embroidery model, which was on hold for me.

At the shop, sewists were gathering for a class, and Mike heard first hand what fun we have at these sessions. Mike loaded the machine while I took care of the paperwork. The shop owner seems to think I will step right up to this machine, having worked with my 430 for several years. But of course, she and her staff will be there to help me if I need it.

Then it was on to Winco. I suppose you'd call Winco a discount grocery store. They probably have the lowest grocery prices between Boise and Spokane. We should shop Winco more often. With grocery prices anticipated to rise due to the draught, we discussed the wisdom of stocking up now. However, I didn't feel organized for that today.

One thing we did buy was a supply of PET milk. When I was a girl, we didn't say "evaporated milk." We said "PET milk." These days, PET brand evaporated milk is hard to find, but Winco has it and we stock up when we shop there. We think PET tastes better in our homemade ice cream than other brands, which shall remain nameless.

"That was fun," said Mike as we left the store.

This afternoon I un-boxed the 630, plugged her in, and touched her screen once or twice. I didn't sew, however, having several other obligations.

Mike wasn't too happy with the sound of the Barracuda, so this afternoon he had her exhaust system examined. She has a new muffler now, and he is pleased with the result. She sounds better and she runs better. KW