While I was away...

Seems that I can't find much of anything to say. Not that I'm not thinking...but...hey....can't always say something! So here's a video clip from not so many days ago near Florence, Oregon. Enjoy, LF!!!


Heceta Beach, Florence, OR from karen steward-nolan on Vimeo.

Pie, Pie, Pie!!!!!Pie Time!!!!!

I may have mentioned a cooking fest during my recent visit to Oregon.  Well, we were so busy eating and cooking I forgot to mention the pumpkin pie I made using brother's CSA local organic pumpkin!

Pumpkin, plus maple syrup, cream, eggs, spice, flour, butter. YUM!

Neighbor Dolores receiving squash soup--pie tomorrow if we don't eat it all!

 Poor Dolores, she was offered pie after she praised the soup I made.  It was gone before I could say "fresh whipped cream!". And as you might imagine, LF, I raced back home to take care of business. Back and forth, we go! What an age of travel, really?  A gal might wear herself down, unless she's eating lots of great food! And eat she does!

My return to Oak Park was enhanced by the knowledge that I was carrying fresh picked huckleberries from the Oregon Coast.  It's not easy to gather enough of these little suckers to cook anything more than huckleberry pancakes, but I gave harvest time a good ninety minutes or so and with delightful results.  I was complaining, while picking, that our little community has been over-pruned to the extent that available berries are disappearing each season. But I wandered around our neighborhood, and sauntered onto the main road.  Berries were found. The tiny little things are about an eighth of the size of a medium blueberry, but if you're serious about your berries, you will not be disappointed, boy oh boy!!!!

The huckleberry pie--disappeared quickly.

The day after I returned home I was pretty wiped out.  Faced with difficult news about Dad, saying goodbye, the whole affair can really deplete a soul. So it was to bed for the better part of a day, "Bring me my coffee, please?!"  And so it went, until the family danced off for soccer match or the like and I was left to my own devices in the kitchen.  What time is it? Yes! It's Pie Time!
LF, you might wonder what the point is of baking a berry pie without opening it for photos, but holy moly, by the time we cut into the thing and broke out the camera, the baby was gone!
Yum. Yum. Yum.


But there's More!  Our share here in OP had delivered us a truckload of Yams. So, yes...you know it!
Sweet Potato Pie!!! This time we were so deep in the thralls of other-world-drama that we completely forgot the camera and just ate ate ate.  Pure pleasure. Breakfast, lunch, dinner.  Now it's Wednesday, and there's no pie to be found (except for the delightful quiche that a friend delivered last night).

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So the pie fortified us through a week of work, school, activities, and finally, acceptance of the news that after a few days of hospice Dad finally let go.  We're so relieved that he went as peacefully as possible.  And now, naturally, we prepare to go to Oregon again.  I took a few minutes at work to remember Dad to my students.  I shared a historic photo from his childhood, and a favorite book that we read together, Watty Piper's The Little Engine That Could.This was a delightful day at work.  Reading a book with such a simple message ("I think I can") over and over, well, I couldn't think of anything better to do to celebrate my Dad.

"I'm not very big," said the Little Blue Engine...

Dad's the one with the ears and the height

And there I go again!  Off on another trip, but not a minute too soon to catch about a million hugs, which are awesome.  More hugs! More hugs!!!

Fortified by extra hugs, smiles and sunshine readily available!!!

You probably wonder what the Unencumbered Woman does next. How can I top this?  Oh, shucks, I don't know. But tomorrow I drag my teenager and my pipsqueak cutie pie to jump onto a plane and do it all.  Celebrate? Commemorate? Breathe? Rest? Reunion? Drown in a heap of anxiety & sadness?
 It's all in the works, and there may even be a few huckleberries left on the roadside.  If so, we'll have to elbow a few black bears aside, with a wink and a nod...Dontcha remember the guy who used to pick berries on this bush?  He was about so-tall, and he had grey hair and glasses, and he'd come out and only pick the ripe ones...the ones that would be perfect for a jam that his wife would make or some pancakes his daughter would make, or just to throw some on vanilla ice cream. Remember? They're wild here, and there the best, richest, wildest tasting berries you'll find.

Postcards from home (Oregon Coast).

A trip for convalescing and providing family support.  The tugs and many conflicting emotions of place and space are ever present. Here are a few shots that I took when breaking from other responsibilities. Take time to click on the short video, this sound is heartening, to me.

Twin Lakes Store sign and chainsaw carving shop.

Overlook path.  

Breathe.

North. I never tire of this spot. Quiet. Solitude.

Evening walk. Mobile home carport.

Yes!

Major food fest, what with brothers CSA and time in Mom's kitchen. Squash soup, greens that never quit, New Belgium, and an avocado from Fred Meyer. Sigh.

I can't get enough of this. Quiet time with Dad.

Ever the land of art cars, bumper stickers, and etc.  Saw this guy around town a few times. Whither the Merry Pranksters?

And, of course, our beautiful, life giving Pacific.  Breathe, breathe, breathe.  I love this!!!!!!!!!!!

Postcard from Oregon. Growing Old(er).

And yes. That is the author's red wine.

Mom and Dad at the Firehouse Restaurant. 61 years of marriage and counting.  Given the chronic fatigue and exhaustion of the mid-forties that Peter and I experience, it's hard to imagine dumping another 45 years on top of this.  Wow.  Walk in my shoes, I suppose.  Not always done with grace, but always loving their daughter, I thankfully admit. Today, watching my almost thirteen year old sidle into the car while her friends walked away on the date that I had denied her (it is a Monday afternoon, after all), I couldn't help but remember what seventh grade was like for me.  Who knows what is right? All I know for sure, is that all of that confidence that we brought to the parenting of babies and toddlers seems so completely irrelevant today.  I know it all mattered--at least it mattered because now it is the memory and record of who we are and what we did.  I guess I'm just feeling, as I often do, completely humbled by the experience (of life) and outclassed in many ways (by my peers).  So, Mom and Dad, congratulations on making it this far and being able to celebrate the new season's arrival with your family. We're all in your corner, watching you take on this bravest of challenges.

A Day at the Beach...We're in it for the poster...

Spring break?  Florence foul weather? Must be time for the SOLV annual Oregon beach clean-up! Kids have become reluctant over the years, but this year we had a celebrity showing! Peter joined us, and was that a save! He and Addie were wandering along the beach cracking jokes, he even managed to wrestle out of her the fact that she has homework to do before we go home (hmmm).  It's always a sort of uncomfortable adventure, even I must admit.  Frankly, we're leaving behind a community that for all of it's natural beauty, let's be honest, there is litter EVERYWHERE  and, yes, even in pristine Oak Park.  The trash bags that we filled? That's about how much trash is left lying on our alley after the trash and recycling company collects our refuse every Tuesday (that would be Waste Management). So for me, it always seems a bit strange to haul my suburban family all the way to the Oregon Coast for a clean-up endeavor, one in which, although it's army of volunteers manage to collect TONS of trash every year along the entire Oregon Coast,  we could easily do a lot more picking up a mere steps from our own back door.  But I digress, we're here, it's an annual event, and, have I said, the posters are always lovely!? So, with five posters in hand, I can return to suburbia, emboldened by the idea that plastic bags won't disappear unless we never use them in the first place, and that plastic, every little plastic thing in our world, eventually will be a crushed little piece of plastic...it just doesn't go anywhere.

Here we are!

Always spectacular!

Former furniture? plyboard, nails, laminate, plastic tubes, and more.

"I could stay here all day!"

"This is what I'm going to do (in life), I'm going to go around, finding places to hide in the grass"

Correspondence from the other side. Notes to self:

At O'Hare Airport (in Chicago) there are many, many, many people.  They are all going somewhere and they have a lot of stuff.  In late March, there are many many families traveling to destinations far and wide. Many of these families are visiting extended families: Grandmas, Grandfathers, Aunts and such.  I guess you could count the unencumbered woman and her entourage as among this crowd, much as we try to deny it.  So we joined the masses. We flew across the country. We heard stuff, we saw people, we read the news, we witnessed television.  It eats away at us. It eats away at me, in particular. But then, a few days pass and I'm wrapped up in my whole new universe. Learning? There really is a whole lot of difference across the land. Also...people got really big. As in, people got really fat.  Also...people don't seem to really have a place, or a thing, or whatever.  I looked at the person ringing up my Peet's coffee and organic milk and sundry items (flip flops, barbie accoutrements) at Fred Meyer and I thought to myself: "Christian? Homophope? Lesbian? Santorum supporter? Composter? Hair-dyer? Offspring of Farmers? Offspring of Factory Workers?  California transplant?  Offspring of any skilled trade or government employer or healthcare worker or anything? Former fisherman/woman? Housewife?  Owned grocery/pharmacy/diner/lumber mill/whatever?  What can we really hope for, if anything? What's the story that would even be appealing?

"Click yer heels, girlfriend..."

And then I'm looking at this picture of a mobile (manufactured) home, (dated, of course, the new models look like prefab ranches) and all the lush greenery, thinking, this is gorgeous, huh? But then, where am I? Where did I come from? Who are my neighbors? How do we create community in this spread out, post-industrial  world? This is when I'm supposed to explain, LF, how it's all going to work out. But I haven't a clue. So...I'm taking suggestions....ideas?

The Subaru's Farewell Tour of Florence and Vicinity

Siuslaw River Bridge
Scott took the car out for a goodbye drive on a brilliant coastal day.  Really, it still rains on the coast in December, but you wouldn't know from these recent pictures. We're looking at highlights of the places that Dad visited in the car for so many years. Scenic beauty and local haunts alike. That's our Florence.

One of my favorite restaurants

My favorite Lake--Cleawox

My Favorite Hangout

My favorite chainstore

Coast Guard Tower, North Jetty

North Jetty Siuslaw River

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Sea Lion Caves

Cape Creek Bridge

Devil's Elbow Beach

Bye Bye Beach

Where I used to live in Florence

Unencumbered at the beach

This summer Addie has discovered Agatha Christie

South Jetty Access. Can I say anything that the photos don't deliver? I was so spellbound, sitting there for hours looking at the ocean and my kids playing and chatting and laughing with Peter. The water was incredibly cold and beautiful. Addie stayed in for a very long time (of course). Ashby and I got wet. Peter got wet. It Doesn't get any better. I usually try to find a few key photos, but the scale is so overwhelming.  In fact, it's one of those things that's too beautiful to photograph. Ouch.

My Ocean, my beach. Sheltered from the freezing wind.
Up the hill.

Unencumbered.

There go my kids!

Mama's in it now.

Peter, ever loyal photographer in support of the blog.

Are you going in?

It's simply perfect!

Woo hoo!

Peter, unencumbered.

Family fun.

Insatiable Addie.



Two peas in a pod.



If only I had a record of everything she says.

Quite a hike to the beach, trail covers two dunes of grass.

Looking North, Coast Range in background.