After the long hard winter and a lingering spring, summer has finally arrived. The first of the fruit crops are showing up in outdoor stands and markets all over Bend. I didn’t notice the normal influx of strawberries this year, but the cherries are abundant stacked mostly in the open trunks and back seats of cars dotting parking lots sporting little hand made signs reading, “Cherries 4 Sale” or “Cheries for Sale” or CHERRIES for SALE. Maybe they’ve come from Madras or the Valley.
Hans, my youngest son, and his wife Flora are paddle boarding on Elk Lake today, and tomorrow they will ski Mt. Bachelor. For the first time in years, on this 4th of July weekend, the mountains are still hidden under a heavy blanket of snow. The lakes and the streams are full, of very cold water, and running at a swift pace, just as in times past. In the early 1960’s the US Olympic ski team trained on the glaciers of Mt. Bachelor during the summer. They stayed at Elk Lake Lodge where I worked for several years. It was fun to get to know them.
Terry, Renee, Ellie and Jade are enjoying a few days in the Wallowa’s. Those mountains are stunning, and the little town of Joseph nestled in the foothills of those wild peaks is so peaceful and welcoming…and a long ways from anything.
My youngest step son Matt and his nineteen year old son Jacob paid a surprise visit this week. They have just left after two wonderful days together. The three of us talked non-stop. Last night we sat by the fire circle on my back deck and kept the neighbors awake chatting until almost midnight. Matt is an anesthesiologist in DC and, accompanied by his son, was headed to Korea for a year’s military assignment. He and Jacob missed their flight in Seattle which gave them about three days to spend as they wished, so I got the call Thursday saying that they would be here Friday. We haven’t seen one another for seventeen years. We picked up right where we left off as if only a day had passed. This visit was a 100% blessing for the three of us.
The weekend will find me back up in the mountains escaping the thundering of speeding cars roaring at high speeds by my new house. Somedays I think the noise is not too bad. Other days I just want to run away and go back home. As we know, there’s no place to run, and there’s no turning back. I remember a sprawling cherry tree that grew on the bank above Burnside Ave. in Portland. It seemed very happy and healthy in the midst of heavy traffic and noise much louder than I deal with.
So, MOTS, (moral of the story) is, be a cherry, grow lots of leaves, sparkle in the sun and celebrate life no matter what.