Seasons

A Summer Drive

While the East Coast has been sweltering under triple-digit temperatures and sticky humidity this week, the Pacific Northwest has experienced its own heat wave. Most of Oregon and Washington have seen highs around the century mark, though without the high humidity in the East. Even the normally cool coast reached 93 on Thursday, beating the old record high by nearly 20 degrees. Facing a four-hour drive from my home in Southern Oregon to Portland on Friday, I decided I should leave early in the morning to avoid driving during the hottest part of the day.

What with attending to some last-minute work projects, watering all the plants thoroughly and dealing with a few unexpected interruptions and chores, I found myself finally rolling out of the driveway at noon. So much for my missing-the-heat plan; it was already nearly 90. Nevertheless, I decided to begin my trip with the windows down and the A.C. off. I cranked up the volumn on the Classic Vinyl station on Sirius radio and headed north on I-5. Zipping along at 70-plus miles per hour, I found the wind blowing through the windows kept me comfortable enough, and I was able to enjoy not only the sights but the smells of a beautiful if toasty summer day.

Some of my favorites:

 – The peppery-dry aroma of sun-baked pines as I climbed from the valley floor towards the first pass

– The sweet, fresh smell of new-mown hay

– The sharp, woodsy scent of bark and sap as I passed enormous piles of logs being soaked down by huge sprinklers in a sawmill lot

– The mossy, damp-earth smell of markedly cooler air as the road passed over several rivers along the way

 All these complemented iconic sights of a midsummer day:

– Broad-winged hawks coasting the thermals over the fields

– Heaps of round hay bales (“toilet-paper hay,” so dubbed by my daughters years ago because they do resemble large, tawny-colored rolls of t.p.) scattered across gently sloping hills

– Rippling fields of grain ripening to gold contrasted against dark-green stands of trees

– Piles of thunderheads heaping up against the Cascades in towering billows of white, purple and gray

I have to admit that by two o’clock — when I reached Eugene, traffic slowed to 60 mph and the temperature neared 100 – I closed up the windows and let the air conditioning bathe me in cool comfort. My favorite part of the drive, though, was certainly those first two hours, when all the sights and smells of summer surrounded me and jogged memories of past summer days. I hope you’ll have the chance to enjoy some summer driving this season, with the windows down, the tunes cranked up and the sun high in the sky.

– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor 

Keeping Busy

One of the great things about the summer season is the plethora of festivals, events, outdoor concerts and markets held on just about every weekend. Whether you live in a big city, the suburbs or out in the country, you usually don’t have to go far to find a variety of activities to entertain you.

Last weekend we attended a local event sponsored by our town’s Park and Recreation Department:  the Battle of the Bones. This two-day bash focuses on a barbecue competition, with Saturday featuring pulled pork and Sunday offering brisket. Nine competitors from the Rogue Valley and northern California took part, vying each day for the $500 first prize in a People’s Choice vote. In addition, 13 Oregon microbreweries presented a total of some 30 stouts, reds and IPAs, while a handful of local wineries offered more than a dozen of their products to help wash down all those savory barbecue tastes.

We chose to go for the brisket on Sunday, and for $15 each we each got a ticket for nine barbeque tastes;  eight, 2-ounce pours of beer; and a hefty beer glass. (Much as we love wine, beer just goes so much better with spicy-sweet barbecue!). Of course, one could always go back and plunk down more a little more cash for more tastes, but we found our initial investment was sufficient for plenty of sampling and quaffing.

There were other food vendors offering side dishes and sweets, a kid-friendly entertainment area with those big inflatable toys, and live music (mostly blues and jazz) all day. It was a 90-plus-degree day, but there was plenty of shaded seating, and a nice breeze kept it from being too uncomfortable. It was nice to see a wide range of folks enjoying the event, from families with little kids to young couples to seniors. There was plenty of room to stretch out on the grass and enjoy the tunes or wander among the booths and compare notes with other event-goers as to their favorite brews and brisket.

It’s casual, relaxed events like the Battle of the Bones that make summertime such a pleasure. It also exposed us to some great local producers we hadn’t tried before, and we’ve already ordered some brisket for an upcoming family gathering from one of our favorites in the competition. Here’s to a summer filled with fun for you!

– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor

Matakana Market

I’ve written in the past about how much I enjoy visiting farmers’ markets — not only in my hometown but also when I am traveling. I’ve found it’s a great way to make personal contact with both the vendors and the shoppers and get a real sense of the people and the area I’m visiting. It’s nice to be able to support the local economy and sample local food and crafts directly from the growers and producers of them. The most frustrating part of the exercise when I’m on the road is knowing I can’t take home everything I’d like to!

You can imagine how pleased I was, then, when I learned that our itinerary during my Auckland, New Zealand, trip included a visit to the Matakana Farmers Market, up the eastern coast about an hour’s drive from the city. When I left home at the end of April, spring was bursting into bloom and our own market was just starting up, featuring early greens and cold-weather veggies. In New Zealand, though, fall was fully established, and I looked forward to visiting the Matakana Market during the height of the harvest.

Early Saturday morning we left The Langham and drove north over the Auckland Harbour Bridge and through the northern suburbs. Our route took us past several large marinas crowded with boats of every size and description — validation for Auckland’s nickname, City of Sails. It was a clear, sparkling morning, and I enjoyed noting the similarities and differences between the local countryside and my own. (Here’s one feature I spied: Snowplanet, an indoor skiing slope housed in a large, hangar-like building draped down the side of a hill. I got a kick out of the sign outside: “Crap skier? Get help here.”) Part of the way we drove along the Hauraki Gulf, home to a number of conservation islands and a marine park and a favorite vacation destination for New Zealanders. Beyond the beaches there are farms and vineyards scattered all over the hills and valleys leading down to the sea — a really lovely landscape.

We arrived in Matakana Village and walked down to the site of the market. It operates every Saturday year-round out of a series of permanent wooden booths set alongside the Matakana River (more of a steam) and surrounded on three sides by two-story buildings housing a variety of galleries, boutiques, cafes and a cinema — the heart of the Village. We met Richard Didsbury, one of the founders and developers of Matakana and, one senses, the driving force behind much that goes on here. He shared a little history and toured us through his cinema — three uniquely decorated theaters with the most amazingly comfortable seats I’ve ever seen. Several of we weary travelers were tempted to wait out a passing cloudburst with a quick nap in one! But too many enticing goodies were waiting outside at the market, so I plunged in as soon as the rain abated and began my own tour.

With only about 35 vendors, the market was a little disappointing in size (I had imagined, from what I’d already heard of the place, much more) but not in its offerings. I was able to enjoy a little winetasting at a few booths, admired plants from a small nursery, purchased a jar of the most delicious local honey, gobbled up a few pastries and tried some local sausages and mustards. Crafters offered jewelry, woven goods, wood products, ceramics and baskets. Off to one side a three-piece band played folksongs and a little bluegrass, and shoppers mingled and chatted. There seemed to be a good mix of tourists and locals, and snatches of conversations indicated to me that the market was the place people caught up with each other each week while they picked up a little of this and that for their tables.

One of my favorite moments came when I strolled down with a cookie to a little dock alongside the river where a tiny, blond girl of no more than three stood admiring a flotilla of ducks. I was a bit alarmed to see her teetering so close to the water with no adult close by, so I squatted down beside her to keep her company and from harm’s way. Not at all shy, she happily chatted to me about the ducks (some of which I understood), her bright blue eyes lighting up when I asked if she thought the birds might enjoy a bit of my cookie. I broke off small bits of it and offered them to her so that she could toss them into the water and watch the ducks scrambling for the morsels. It was a lovely conclusion to my visit to the market, making a connection with this sweet Kiwi child.

My travel tip to you this week is to take every opportunity, wherever you are, at home or abroad, to visit a farmers market and sample the local fare, people and lifestyle. You won’t be disappointed.

– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor

Ode to Spring

I’ve been resisting it for a good month now, but I can’t contain myself any longer. And, judging from the emails and phone calls I’ve been sharing with family members and coworkers around the country, they’re feeling it, too. Spring fever has definitely arrived and, for those who have endured an especially cold and snowy winter, none too soon.

I really can’t complain because, although we get plenty of rain, foggy days and freezing temperatures here in the Rogue Valley of Southern Oregon in the winter, generally heavy snows and weeks of cold are rare. Still, there must be something deep in our genetic makeup that responds gratefully to the gradually lengthening days and the first hints of life returning to the earth as January tips into February. That was when I spotted the first nubs of daffodil and tulip sprouts nudging up out of the soil, and while my East Coast colleagues were being buried under more than a foot of snow, I was rejoicing in my first crocuses popping open.

I’ve been especially alert to each sign of the coming season this year in our new home. Eager to see which of the plants we laboriously planted last fall made it through the winter, I trek out virtually every day to make my rounds of the yard. The clematis and honeysuckle are sending out tendrils and the softest of new leaves, and the limbs of the maple in the front yard are surrounded in a haze of bright red buds. That shrub in the corner seemed overnight to throw out a flurry of tiny white flowers with the most intense, lovely scent, while the ornamental pear is a beacon of cheery blossoms and bright green leaves.

Not satisfied with hovering over last year’s plantings, I found the early warm days this month spurred me to make the first of many forays to the grange and nursery for some bareroot roses, blueberry bushes and asparagus crowns. Having dug those in, now I look for swelling buds and emerging shoots to tell me they are happy in their new home. It will be at least a year before I enjoy the fruits of the asparagus and blueberry plants, but I figure that is, above all, what spring is all about: hope and the anticipation of the fullness of life to come.

May you find a little time in the coming week to enjoy the world waking up around you and the spring sun on your face.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader