American Dreams

There it is: 

My house, 

my yard,

 

my river.

(and someday I'll tell that to the people who actually own it.)

My American dream.

Return to Shasta

Just south of the Oregon/California border is the Shasta-Trinity National Forest. You'll remember my first visit there from back in July but, needless to say, with the mountains and curvy highways and the multitude of 18-wheelers whose drivers know the road like the back of their hands, driving it in the middle of January is a bit more questionable. I wanted to make it back to Oregon before it got dark so I passed up a lot of 'Stop The Car!' moments. But there was one particular spot, right along the highway, that I just couldn't drive right through.

It's Shasta Lake, and it's breathtaking.

In a good year, the water level rises all the way to the treeline but when I arrived, it was remarkably low. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the green water contrasted with the red shores and the blue sky and I was mesmerized. Stop The Car indeed!

I spent a good half hour or more driving around this section of the lake. I ran into two lovely park rangers who wouldn't let me pass, but were more than accommodating when I asked if I could walk up and down the road with my camera to take more pictures. I would have stayed longer, but I knew my timing was already close, so with one more wide-angle shot, I got back in the car and continued on my mission north and away from this spectacular bit of nature.

So Long San Francisco

I returned to San Francisco in mid-January. I had left something there that I needed and had promised to return something I had taken with me, so I decided to take a couple of days to make the trip and say farewell.

The downtown waterfront was just as I left it in November: full of life and so beautiful. I could spend a little bit of every single night ever in this place, I swear. 

And there were things I hadn't noticed on my previous trip.

What's this?

Well, it's Forbes Island: an underwater restaurant that yes, had been there my entire first trip but, no, I did not visit.

List of things to do next time: check.

And when you turn around?
Stunning!

Another shot of the Bay Bridge, this time alit and up close:

and with a little bit of time and a whole lot of patience, my final and probably absolute favourite shot from the city...

...until next time, that is.
So long, San Francisco.
For now.

The End of the Rainbow

I don't need your pot of gold.

 Rogue River, Grants Pass, Oregon.

Zoey

January 10 was unseasonably warm, even for southern Oregon. I was delighted to find myself in the company of an eight-year-old girl and her dad, on a mission to spend this beautiful afternoon outdoors. I gathered up my camera and they gathered up the slingshot she'd gotten for Christmas, and we went down to the river to get in some shooting practice for all of us.

 

Wait.

Did you say that's HER slingshot? Yup, sure did.

 

 

This ain't no Disney princess.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, this is Zoey.

 

She likes cowboy boots and muddy jeans, playing boardgames, reading books, and hanging out in the garage while her dad works on his truck. She sings in the shower at the top of her lungs, she's artistic and creative, and she puts her heart into every single thing she makes. She also likes to help out in the kitchen, be it the cooking or the cleaning, and if at any given time you're willing to roll her up burrito-style in a blanket to see how long it takes her to free herself, she's up for that challenge too.

 

And she is her dad's daughter, both in looks and personality, through and through.

 

 

All of this combined to make my job easy. I sat back and just watched her do her thing, starting with the hula-hoop she had mastered before I figured out how to even get the darn thing to spin.

 

 

Then there was the realization that if you shook this tree really hard, you could "MAKE IT RAIN!"

 

Pick out a few splinters...

...and we're moving on.

"Can I show you my monster face for a picture?"
"Yup." 

 

We did have a couple of moments when I had to remind her that she was 8, not 21. To her credit, there are times when I had to remind myself that that she was 8, not 21. Is it just me, or does that wise little face totally resemble a young Liv Tyler????

 

 

 

My idea...

 

...her idea.

 

 Loved it!

I didn't realize just how fond I'd grown of this remarkable human being until my last day in Oregon. We were all standing around the living room, making sure I had remembered everything and trying to delay my inevitable departure. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I had a very poignant emotional moment and started to cry. I grabbed the nearest adult and was pulled in for a hug, and within seconds I felt long gangly arms wrap around me from the other side, essentially making me the middle of a hug sandwich. Without even understanding why I was upset, this 8-year-old girl had taken it upon herself to help comfort me, and there she stayed until I was able to compose myself.

 

Then, when she was the first to come forth to hug me again at the airport, I knew I was hooked.

Compassion level: extraordinary.

 

So yes, Zoey, in answer to your question, I will most definitely come back and visit you and your dad, even when your living situation is not as it is now. In fact, I look forward to watching you grow up into the amazing woman I know you're going to become.

Lots of hugs, Kiddo,
I'll see you soon.
-Canada