Your average winter day in the rural *High* desert

 

You may have assumed, by the title of this post, that I was going to talk about snow.  Nope.  Right now the sky is blue and the ground is dry.

As I have mentioned previously and probably too often, we live on five acres (five-point-two, to be more precise) out on the "high" desert of Central Oregon.  (I don't know why it's called "high" .... I looked it up and learned "high desert" doesn't really mean anything at all .... ) 

When we purchased this land five years ago (OMGosh .... FIVE! ..... wow) it was completely uncleared.  And the bulk of it remains uncleared.  Which was the plan.  Zero landscaping except just around the house.  Leave it natural and organic.  Easy peasy!  

How naive, were we.

Now we are tasked with the noble plan each year of spending a good chunk of the winter months, removing anything that might become fuel for unwanted fires the following summer.   Yup!  By golly, it'll be a banner year taming the land!  However, our plans usually whittle down to only a handful of days, if that.  Because it's so easy to NOT do it.  And because it's hard work.  

We just had one of those noble days.  Husband dusted off the chainsaw, hauled it outside, and buzzed off heaps of low branches from a few of our gazillion juniper trees.  I pulled up (what seemed like) tons of mostly-rotted scrubby sage bushes and it all went on burn piles.  

In western Oregon where the color green was born and perfected, the trees are real, and where I lived most of my life, if you cut fresh branches off living trees or shrubs and immediately try to burn them in the middle of winter, well .... good luck with that.  You'll get more smoke than flames.  Not the case here in the *high* desert, where even the saplings will promptly erupt into an inferno regardless of the season.  No need to let firewood "age" if you plan to burn it in your fireplace.   It's ready from the get-go.

And for an added thrill, you can top that burning pile of branches with some o' them thar dry tumbleweeds.  Just keep a bucket of water close by.

We spent most of the day cutting, pulling, hauling, piling, and burning ..... and a relatively small portion of these 5.2 acres actually looks a little cleaner.  (Until the cheat grass arrives this spring.)  Afterwards we hobbled back to the house, soothed our aching muscles in our hot tub, and slathered on the Icy Hot.  

Please tell me you can see the difference.

The question remains if we will do any more this winter.  The intentions are impressively lofty, but we'll see if those intentions bear fruit, so to speak.   I'm especially good at dreaming up grand (and unlikely) ideas which include (but are not limited to) things like learning to use a chainsaw myself, building a cabin, buying a tractor, adding a second driveway, rearranging some boulders, and the like.  But for now, a little more clearing will have to suffice, as boring as that is.  

On the upside, we have enough free firewood for our wood stove to last into the next decade.  It's just hanging around outside, thinking it's a tree, ready to be cut down, stacked, and burned that same afternoon. I'm keepin' the Icy Hot handy.

Somethin's burnin'

Where we used to live, until about three years ago, I never could see a reason to have a 72 hour kit.  (I know, I know.  Raised eyebrows.  Shocked faces.  Gasps.)  A better idea, in my opinion, would be to keep a few necessary items at one of our kids' homes, who lived nearby.  Everything else we might need was available at any number of local shops, grocery stores, or pharmacies.  In our Former Life, the only realistic disaster was maybe a house fire or ...... hmmmm.  Flood?  No.  Nuclear attack?  Pshaw.  We never did get around to leaving anything at anyone's house, nonetheless, the intent was there.  And (a very pertinent point) it rained a lot where we used to live.  I'll explain why I bring this up.  

We now live in the desert where it's very dry 3-4 months of the year.  Every year, the news ominously reports, is drier than the last, not to mention this heat wave from you-know-where.  Wild fires can spring up in an instant, especially in remote areas.  So a single lighted match or cigarette causes great consternation.  We are shamed into keeping our trees trimmed up and brush cleared with frequent reminders of potential calamity should we fail to comply.   Thunderstorms, unless accompanied by a fair amount of rain, are no longer innocent summer entertainment.  July 4th fireworks bring a lot of angst.  Alerts pop up on my phone with evacuation updates.

It's a different world over here.  (I fantasize about lawn sprinklers mounted on our roof.  Couldn't hurt, right?)  To put it briefly, I miss the rain.  

About ten days ago as we were driving back from town, we saw a mega plume of smoke coming from what looked like the area where we live.  (Fortunately it wasn't, although it WAS less than seven miles away and moving closer.)  

For the next couple of days, our local Facebook group was abuzz and cars were gathering along roads where there were viewpoints.  Husband and I sat on our patio and watched the fire-fighting planes flying to dump their load of red retardant then back to the local airport to refill.  

A helicopter heading back to refill the bag at the end of the cable with (we assume) water.

They named it the Grandview Fire.  Husband took the above two photos.  He sent them to a couple of local news stations and they were shown on TV.  

Our mountain view disappeared into the smokey haze ... which happens regularly here in the summer.  But by the third day, the haze disappeared and we began to read news reports that, thankfully, the level of containment was growing and the fire had topped out at just over 6,000 acres. The firemen were winning.  (No homes were lost.)

We live on a 10,000+ acre peninsula of land, surrounded on the west, north, and east by vast canyons with rivers running along the base of each.  I've come to really appreciate these natural firebreaks and this latest fire was on the other side of one of those canyons.  I also appreciate that our local fire department has never lost one house in our community to a wild fire .... thus far.   About twelve years ago, there was a wild fire close to where our home now sits, in fact there are a few charred stumps remaining on our property.  Someone apparently had lost control of their burn pile.  One neighbor said she saw an ember float up into a nearby tree which then erupted like a torch.   This fire burned about ten acres and, as the neighbors tell it, the firemen camped close by for a week, just to be sure it was out.  It burned mostly public land where, years later, it still looks ugly and scarred because no one is allowed to cut down the dead trees ..... (a moment to pause and, yet again, wonder about government bureaucrats).

So I now have a plan.  If we ever have to evacuate, Husband and I will each drive one of our cars, and I have a list of items that will go into each vehicle.  Instead of 72 hour kits, we have a 72+++ hour van that already contains a majority of the stuff we might need.  I also ..... get this(!) ..... organized (mostly) our 45-year-old monster nest of random family photos into albums.  Yes, it's true.  I'm awarding myself Big Points for this latest project that I completed a few days ago, because it's been nagging me for years.  (So, to my posterity, next time you come to visit, you will find all the albums in the den, awaiting your viewing pleasure.)  And rest assured, said albums are on the evacuation list.  I just hope we never have to use it.

Life in the Rural High Desert

Having lived 95% of my total years in western Oregon (I actually did the math), this current 5% has been an adjustment, and I deem it sufficient to speak authoritatively on living in the central portion of this state.  Therefore .....

The Pros:

1. My mountains.  Verse 121 in Psalms, says, 

"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help."

In context, this verse appears to have been intended as a question.  But to me, it's a statement.  Hence, the mountains are mine ..... although I'm willing to share.

Broken Top on the left, and the Three Sisters, middle and right

2. Space between us and everyone else.  In fact, we can only see one other house from our house.  

3. My house.  It's not fancy nor large, but it has no stairs, requires only minimal yard work, and it's comfortable.  Plus it looks out on .... see #1 above.

4. The relatively safe political climate where this can sit by our neighbor's road, unmolested.

I'm pretty sure I could even wear a MAGA hat into town if I wanted.  (I don't own one.)  As for the opposing party, I haven't seen any molestation of their signs either.  But I could be wrong.

5.  Less traffic.  Nowadays, when we make one of our frequent trips back to western Oregon, we practically break out in hives as we crawl from one traffic light to the next.  Our Hwy 97, which runs north/south through the center of the state, can sometimes clog up a bit, and too often because of an accident .... which is a topic for another blog post.  Fortunately we have a wonderful thing call back roads, which the general public usually doesn't bother with, where we can zip to town, seldom seeing more than a few cars or even a stop sign.

6. It's dry here.  Often when we go back west, we notice, like never before, the Three Ms: Mud, Moss, and Muck .... the latter being whatever you think fits.

7. There are lakes everywhere.  It necessitates owning some type of boat, which for us, is a kayak.  And camping options?  ..... Again, everywhere.

Pause a moment and soak this in.  (Hosmer Lake) Credit for this photo goes to the Husband.

Camping just last week, and there's our kayak.  (Crane Prairie Reservoir)

8. Deer occasionally wander by my window.  You cannot help but love that.

9. We are surrounded by canyons.  I can literally walk to this spot from my house. (1.5 miles)

Overlooking the Deschutes River.

10.  The people.  There are nice people everywhere.  But here, when out for a walk as I often am, you MUST wave at everyone who drives by .... or at least smile and nod.  Otherwise you feel rude.  It can be bothersome, especially to one who is easily lost in one's thoughts when on foot.  And once, after a deep dump of snow, I was out shoveling a portion of our driveway.  A neighbor whom I've never met, came along on his tractor and, without a word, drove up our driveway and began scooping snow.  And if he hadn't come, our other neighbor would've shown up to do the same.

11. Spectacular sunsets.  Check this out:

The Cons:

1. I am twenty minutes away from shopping, and I'm talking bare minimalist shopping. 

If you want real shopping, you must drive forty minutes or more.  And if you want serious shopping, you must drive three hours to Portland.  (*sigh*)  At least Amazon still knows where to find me.

2. The lack of color.  As you can see in the photos above, there are parts of central Oregon that are stunningly gorgeous.  But where we live .... there are junipers.  Here and there you might find an interesting looking one in a somewhat artful sense, but for the most part, they are probably the ugliest tree ever created.  And unless people plant other varieties of trees on their property, you will find nothing BUT junipers.  NOTHING.  

And the other vegetation, if you can call it that ....(sage brush, tumbleweeds, and cheatgrass that drives burs into your socks) are all the same dreary shade of pale green and brown.  Hence, when we drive west, I am almost overcome by the abundant color over there. 

3.  Those deer.  They must be barricaded by tall fences or they will eat everything you plant.  And if they don't want it, rabbits probably will.  

4.  Weird weather.  We don't get snow too often.  But sometimes when it snows, it dumps.  We've seen at least three feet a couple of times.  

 

And once in a while the wind, on a previously windless day, suddenly kicks up and threatens to overturn cars, then brings in a Biblical deluge of hail and rain and for about 30 minutes, tries heartily to wash us all into one of the nearby canyons, before returning to that innocent blue-sky calmness, as if to say, "Storm?  What storm?" 

  

And all lightening storms must accompany the necessary concern of wild fires, because .....

5.  ... it's so dry.  People are quite intense about fire danger here.  We have to trim up our trees and attempt to keep potential fuel cleaned up off the ground.  I never heard of creating a "safety perimeter" around my house in western Oregon.  And we've had days at a time, typically in August, when the mountains hide in the smokey haze.  

6. I don't trust other drivers here.  Hwy 97 (mentioned above) is, in my opinion, an antiquated death trap.   It has too many small roads and driveways accessing it with a scary lack of turning lanes or medians needed to keep cars and trucks separated as they speed past each other on only two lanes.  A LOT of accidents happen on sections I am frequently on and many are fatal.  But not all are due to the road.  Sometimes the unexplainable happens and someone pulls out in front of a semi-truck in broad daylight.  


As you can see, at this point, the Pros outnumber the Cons.  So until that changes, we will stay put.  Besides that, the Husband LOVES his fishing and golfing which are readily available a few minutes away.  I was told once, by a local, that people move out here when they retire in their 60s (hello, us!) and move back when they need more help in their 80s.  So we have a few years to go .....

Stir Crazy!

We are closing in on three months of sitting.  Thankfully, my dire weather prediction of this post did not happen.  After a December cold snap (Winter-Phase 1), we had a late January/early February "tease" when the weather warmed up (close to 60 degrees a couple of days) and local Facebook friends warned to not start our gardens (Ha! As if) lest they will be cruelly zapped by the onslaught of Winter-Phase 2.  During that warm spell, we trotted around in our shirt sleeves thinking, "Spring! .... Where are the crocuses?"  We even bought our exterior house paint because (!) the house siding (!!) is done. (!!!)  But the temps immediately plummeted making the conditions too risky for a lot of very expensive paint.  So it's now sitting as well.  'Tis then we remember we are in the High Desert where crocuses don't grow and paint doesn't cure ....  in February.

We live with interim periods of lots to do (as with the wiring) followed by more waiting.  But we're close to the end .... or at least to the end of the sheet rock stage and to the point when things really will get interesting.


It's all still surreal.  It seems we will live forevermore in a parked motorhome in an endless winter with an unfinished house.  We pretend that someday we will actually move in .....  But it's a silly dream because, as we all know, stuff like that doesn't happen in real life. 

So .......

....... what are we doing in the meantime?

Husband grabs every opportunity to go fishing.  And he's now recruiting others.  (Beware!)  I suspect it's a plot to take over the world, turning everyone into zombies anglers, bwahahaha.  They call their recruiting stations, "fly shops", where they gather and scheme, using code words like midge, blue-wing-olive, nymph, and the like.

And I ...... um ..... go for walks, shop occasionally, hang out at the laundromat and grocery store, perfect my solitaire game, and try not to eat.  Our tile, carpet, paint colors, yada yada, for the house are decided and the cabinets are ordered.  That part is done.  I also putz around our "yard" gathering wood scraps and deciding where we'll put things like the wood shed or my patio swing.

Needing a diversion, a few days ago we hiked into one of our fabulous neighborhood canyons so that Husband could explore another fishing spot.  Check out this view which is only a few minutes from our door.

 

Oh, and I discovered that Redmond is a haven for antique shops.  Not that I'm a big collector.  But who doesn't love seeing (amongst the really old stuff) things that you routinely used when you were a kid (or got as a wedding gift and still use ..... feeling old yet?) that is now considered chic and worthy of an expensive price tag.

So that's kind of it.  Stir crazy and bored.  Always waiting for workers to show up and finish their latest project.  And as you can probably tell by my randomness, all this sitting/waiting is causing ..... my brain cells ..... to

die off ....
                     
          one .....

by ....
                 
       one ....

From webfoot to desert rat

This blog began over six years ago when I found myself doing things completely out of character.  (See sidebar -->)  We can now add to that list ..... Moving from the Pacific NW to the desert.

Being that I get extremely whiny when the thermometer rises above the mid-eighties, why, you may ask, are we doing this?

My answer:  Heck if I know.

We should, by all that is logical and sane in the universe, be moving to the coast or possibly Canada, where temperatures stay humanely moderate ...... (well maybe not Canadian winters) and where I would not be checking the forecast first thing each morning in hopes that it has improved since I checked it last thing the night before.  (Who's obsessing?)

In an effort of due diligence, I carefully watched and compared the weather in western Oregon where I have lived since the Beginning of Time, to central Oregon where we will be moving ..... and during the summer of 2016, it was often hotter where you'd THINK it would be cooler.  Yes, western Oregon, known as "the valley", also known for rain, greenery, and general lushness, had crazy hot days with higher-than-should-be-allowed humidity.  And in central Oregon, AKA actual desert ..... it was, of course, drier and .... get this .... not as hot.  Weird, that.

This summer (and taking into account our previous winter of non-stop ice storms) western Oregon weather has completely lost its mind.  Two weeks running with temps nearing and sometimes souring past 100.  Locals USED to say you really didn't need AC since it only got hot a few days each year.

Yeah, right.  Not lately!

In central Oregon, generally it's been the same or slightly less (it never topped 100) AND with low humidity.

So all in all, if I can't move to the coast or to Canada, I might as well move to the desert.  Besides, Husband likes it here and I like him.

Needless to say, it's taking some getting used to.  I've joined a community Facebook group here and have learned that wild fires and "What kind of bug is THIS??" are daily topics.   (Husband announced that he saw his first scorpion yesterday on our property.  Google is now trying to reassure me that Oregon scorpions are of the more friendly variety since they are not deadly.  Somewhat like a bee sting ....... Uh-huh.)

One of the perks of our new stomping grounds is our local community pool, which is part of our HOA, and therefore we feel compelled to use .... frequently.  There's a lot one can say about having the use of a pool that one does not have to maintain.  Much like living at a resort.  (We don't mind this at all. )

"Our" pool.

Us and some of our spectacular progeny during our recent family reunion. 

Typically, my days here (still in the RV park since our property is yet house-less) start out with cool mornings and a long walk, then chores and running errands, then holing up with the AC, then maybe the pool (ahhh!),  then more AC till well after sunset when we can actually stand to sit outside again.  As long as I don't have to do anything outdoors (beyond walking from AC to a hot car and back again) between 10 a.m. and 9 p.m., I'm okay.  It's doable.  So far.  (And many thanks to my little oscillating fan that lulls me to sleep each night.)

Update on the House-To-Be project:   Excavation!  A flat spot is emerging from the copious dirt, ridiculous dust(!), and rocks, upon which (someday we hope) there'll be a cool, well-insulated, shaded, three bedroom oasis ..... sans scorpions.

But don't hold your breath.  As my sister says, the three consistencies of life are:  death, taxes, and construction delays.