tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10532792133241503792024-03-05T19:13:16.053-08:00Brick House in BickletonEmileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-77320552096112515882011-10-21T08:56:00.000-07:002011-10-21T08:56:13.818-07:00New SchoolLast night we went to Bickleton School District's Open House of their new school building. It was pretty neat. A lot more technology than I had in school. And though I've only seen the gym of the old school, everyone around us was commenting on how nice the new place was. The building seemed small to me for a K-12, but the rooms and hallways were spacious.<br />
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And I counted desks in a few places. The 3rd/4th grade classroom had 16 students. And the Kindergarten class had three tables that could comfortably fit three students each--but there were only four names for students in that class. My mother-in-law would have been so jealous to see a Kindergarten class of four students--her Kindergarten classes are always overcrowded. And can you imagine the one-on-one teaching you could do with only four students? My favorite thing about the Kindergarten classroom was the papers outside the classroom: "My name is Clayton and I like to ride my tractor at home with my cowboy hat."<br />
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A few people we knew there told our two year old daughter that they hoped we'd be around long enough to go to that school. Our landlord frequently tells me about how great the school is here and how so many students excel there. Looking at the elementary school classrooms, it's tempting. But not tempting enough to overcome the things I don't like about living here.<br />
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And to be honest, the high school doesn't really tempt me. Sure there are still small classes, a lot of one-on-one attention to help the students, and I especially liked how one classroom was set up in a way I only experienced in small college classes where I gained the most. But there is one foreign language option. They have a great music room, but I've only heard about band, not choir here. (My husband and I were both in choir in high school, and I'd like my children to at least have the option.) And I think they offer three sports: track, volleyball, and basketball. I'd like my children to have more extracurricular options open to them. And if they join a track or basketball team, I want it to be because they genuinely enjoy the sport, not just because there's nothing else to do.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-25743238552994888972011-10-04T19:38:00.000-07:002011-10-04T19:38:01.110-07:00Two SightingsToday as I drove back to Bickleton from the valley, I could have sworn that I saw a porcupine. But I didn't know if that was possible out here. Turns out our neighbors told my husband that they had seen a couple of them, so I was not seeing things.<br />
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And bad news for me: the early morning brought the return of the fog. I didn't like the cold or the snow or the ice last year, but it was the fog that got to me. Two weeks ago was had some really hot weather. But the cold has come in with a vengeance--and I believe it's here to stay.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-86479482247037556822011-09-05T16:12:00.000-07:002011-09-05T16:12:31.537-07:00The BooniesOn Saturday we took a family walk to the post office. As we left, we passed an old lady sitting in her car. She smiled at my daughter riding in her all-terrain wagon with a cover, as all older people do.<br />
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Old Lady: I like your covered wagon.<br />
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Hubby: Thanks. We figured that since we live in the boonies, we might as well act like it.<br />
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Old Lady: This isn't the boonies.<br />
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***<br />
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Ummm, what? Turns out she lives in nearby Cleveland which has a population of 17. I guess our town of almost 100 feels a little crowded to her.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-24190899330796516672011-07-18T14:41:00.000-07:002011-07-18T14:41:15.261-07:00Bickleton BirdsBickleton has a surprising amount of birds for the lack of trees here. It not only has bluebirds, but robins and lots of other birds that I can’t name. They even come in some bright colors like yellow, orange, and purple, which really surprised me for this area. We enjoy watching the birds, and a pair just built a nest right outside our door so we get an even closer view of them than before.<br />
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My two year old daughter loves having so many birds around. She gets excited when she sees them and tells me that the birds sing and fly and eat. And more recently, when we’re playing outside, she looks for birds and then leans forward and yells “BIRDS! BIRDS! BIRDS!” at them for no reason that I can see, but she is always very pleased with herself afterward.<br />
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The birds in Bickleton are abundant and beautiful. But to be honest, they are not that smart. These birds do not move out of the way of a moving vehicle. In fact, they fly off the side of the road, into the path of the car, and then panic. My husband and I have both killed more birds with the car than I care to think about. <br />
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One day a few weeks ago I was sitting in the living room when two birds slammed into our large front window in quick succession. Yes, it’s a big window, but there are no windows beyond it and though I’ve had every intention of cleaning these windows inside and out, it hasn’t gone beyond thinking about it. A few days later the birds started flying into all of our windows—even when the blinds and curtains are closed! <br />
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Seriously, what is wrong with these birds? Are they suicidal or just stupid? It gives a fresh understanding of the term “bird brain” for me.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-16743381198688118152011-07-04T15:27:00.000-07:002011-07-04T15:27:15.671-07:00Patriotic Pig RoastOne of the annual community events in Bickleton is a 4th of July Patriotic Pig Roast.<br />
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They roast a large pig and everyone in the community brings something for the potluck meal.<br />
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We arrived to the sound of a Christian family band--mom played the keyboard, dad was on a bass cello, the only son played guitar, and three girls in matching hand-sewn jumpers all played the violin.<br />
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After the local pastor welcomed us and prayed over the food, we dug in to the delicious pork and potluck dishes of varying deliciousness (or not).<br />
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They recognized all the veterans in the community and four of them spoke about what serving their country meant to them. We all sang along to <i>The Star Spangled Banner</i> and <i>My Country 'Tis of Thee</i>.<br />
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This is one of the times when it's a benefit to be part of a very small community.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-36090274640515793672011-06-02T11:12:00.000-07:002011-06-02T11:12:25.890-07:00In a Town This Small"In a town this small, you just have to get used to the fact that everyone knows what color of underwear you put on in the morning, and then get on with your day." - owner of the local market/cafeEmileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-88917539319785603062011-05-07T14:50:00.000-07:002011-05-07T14:50:47.201-07:00Outside Our WindowWe have a large window in our living room that faces the street. The view leaves something to be desired, in my opinion, but more goes on outside our window than you might expect. And all of it serves to entertain my toddler.<br />
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She now thinks that all pick up trucks have dogs in the back of them, and around here, she's usually right.<br />
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We get to see horses and their riders taking walks down the road. This helped her learn the word "horse"--she used to moo when she saw horses.<br />
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Now that the (sort of) warmer months are here, we get a lot of biker gangs taking road trips that pass through Bickleton. My daughter loves these. She gets really excited and says, "bike! bike!" Thankfully they usually come in groups, so she gets to see a few at a time.<br />
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The local school doesn't have a track field, though track is one of the few sports here, so they run down our street. She gets really excited and says "run, run, run!" while she runs in place.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-26897725577130712932011-04-29T15:30:00.000-07:002011-04-29T15:30:31.181-07:00The Possibility of Ice Cream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaprB_9lZKo336Cf0yAEvantKCg4niRcnXGC6I4NS63UEgx-o75YH7rwVDjUGVMNFMdRgwtYK2IpW6HEkMNuBvrFQx1vkqP3r8KPV2-m-xK9CAEut3swolf8OCx1BIW6o7Gosb-vzONldn/s1600/MP900406773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaprB_9lZKo336Cf0yAEvantKCg4niRcnXGC6I4NS63UEgx-o75YH7rwVDjUGVMNFMdRgwtYK2IpW6HEkMNuBvrFQx1vkqP3r8KPV2-m-xK9CAEut3swolf8OCx1BIW6o7Gosb-vzONldn/s320/MP900406773.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's a struggle to buy dairy and meats when it is at least an hour from the store to your freezer. And that doesn't count the time between putting it in your cart and buying it. Even with a cooler or cold bags, frozen foods rarely stay frozen. I've tried buying ice cream a couple of times, but even in the winter, the top layer was melty by the time we got home. I thought buying ice cream in summer months, when we want it most, was going to be impossible. <br />
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The local cafe has ice cream by the scoop. When I bought some to share with my daughter today, I commented on how hard it is to get ice cream out here to the cafe owner and she revealed the secret of how Bickletonites get their ice cream fix: The Schwann's man.<br />
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Much like the bookmobile, every two weeks we have the possibility of access to town luxuries like library books and ice cream. I never thought I'd order Schwann's because I know it's more expensive. But I'd rather pay $5 for a half gallon of ice cream that I actually get to eat than $3 for one that melts all over my car. <br />
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Mmmmmm. Ice cream.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-24180220412767875362011-04-18T13:31:00.000-07:002011-04-18T13:31:14.986-07:00More Postal ShenanigansSo last week we got a bill for our "free" post office box. We were told that we got it free because we weren't on the mail route. I was hoping the bill was a mistake. Today I made an extra effort to walk to the post office to talk to the lady who works there despite the fact that the morning sunshine was quickly turning into threatening clouds.<br />
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Funny story, we <em>are</em> on the mail route. All we have to do is put up a mail box. Most frustrating is that we could have done that when we moved in and then had mail delivered to our house. Seriously? All the drama and issues that have surrounded the simple act of getting the mail was all unnecessary? Grrr.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-32036430326327509492011-04-05T13:34:00.000-07:002011-04-05T13:34:52.641-07:00ColorsOne of my complaints about Bickleton in spring, besides the fact that spring apparently never comes to Bickleton, is the lack of colors. There are few flowers--because of the deer, most people don't even try to plant around here. And there are no blossoming trees, which I sorely miss about Portland springs.<br />
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My wonderful husband brought home some color--a bouquet of flowers. Which is quite a feat in a town where no flowers are sold.<br />
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But yesterday the drizzling spring day found a way to bring a little color to the beige landscape.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgCaKejr12fuhid4f7oQX0gZlivC-OAfn2lJHFtMhuX-30f-EVRmhh_CTU4hly6WEJ1I4PKs4vud1EdcrhgMssddDVWYoTdXL7kfUienVHb9-Elxlomp_dkWkWUouQsYGcClLMZuTD4Vc/s1600/CIMG4870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgCaKejr12fuhid4f7oQX0gZlivC-OAfn2lJHFtMhuX-30f-EVRmhh_CTU4hly6WEJ1I4PKs4vud1EdcrhgMssddDVWYoTdXL7kfUienVHb9-Elxlomp_dkWkWUouQsYGcClLMZuTD4Vc/s320/CIMG4870.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="left"></div>Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-18082602675299119912011-04-02T16:57:00.001-07:002011-04-02T16:57:22.224-07:00Scenes from the RoadOne morning we drove by the corner ranch at just the right time. One man was driving a pick up slowly along the fence while another stood on the trailer behind and threw bales of hay to feed the cows. Dozens of lumbering cows and stumbling calves rand down the hillside for their breakfast. A small calf was nestled on a bale of hay at the feet of the rancher on the trailer and another one stood outside the fence on the roadside and stared at us as we drove by.<br />
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This is one of the scenes that I am both afraid my daughter will forget (in the scenario in which we actually get to live in civilization again) and that she will not pay any attention to one day (in the scenario in which this becomes an ordinary scene in her life).Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-84454638190400462762011-03-30T07:37:00.000-07:002011-03-30T07:37:55.579-07:00Gun TotingMy family is surprised at how conservative our community is. I think that like many people, they think Seattle when they hear Washington. Well, we might as well be a million miles away from Seattle.<br />
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We've been assured that if anything "went down" in this area, we'd be completely safe and protected because the population is armed to the teeth. I always wonder what they think is going to happen in rural Washington. Are they worried about a hostile take over? In a county with more cows than people, I don't think we'd garner much attention from any invading party.<br />
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On Sunday as we drove home from church, we passed a man standing on the side of the road. He fit right into the landscape--scruffy, camo jacket, beat up hat, with a dirty pick up as his backdrop. And he was holding a gun.<br />
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It is one thing to hear about all the guns that people around here own. It is another to see them out on our roads and in the middle of our lives.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-931932644773990182011-03-21T09:47:00.001-07:002011-03-21T09:47:11.787-07:00Tea Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MTVZi7HZ05utXJ2F-49KeHQbLN_jZlpirvgdBs1kLjfSvSS9ENaaZxvpL6grgOgvP_Cv9MBAjU-A3TFYa8guL4yuDSh3tGsnUq7Z2_v1AgGp6aN09BbQl-wOv5vvJjTCmG3ZzM6dMYY/s1600/tea+time.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MTVZi7HZ05utXJ2F-49KeHQbLN_jZlpirvgdBs1kLjfSvSS9ENaaZxvpL6grgOgvP_Cv9MBAjU-A3TFYa8guL4yuDSh3tGsnUq7Z2_v1AgGp6aN09BbQl-wOv5vvJjTCmG3ZzM6dMYY/s320/tea+time.JPG" width="255" /></a></div><br />
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Side Note: Someone forgot to tell Bickleton that yesterday was the first day of spring. It snowed.<br />
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On Saturday I went to the annual Bickleton Ladies' Tea. I was sorely tempted to pretend to forget it was happening--mostly because I had no idea what to expect from it. But not much happens in Bickleton, so it's a shame to miss anything.<br />
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I got there late, so I only saw the end of the spring fashion show. A shop in Sunnyside provided clothes and accessories and the girls from Bickleton High School were the models. There were door prizes handed out throughout the event.<br />
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We ate something with rice and unidentifiable veggies glued together with cream of chicken soup and topped with sliced almonds. There was also an orange jello fruit salad type of thing. The dessert was actually really good and pretty though. It was whipped cream, cream cheese, and raspberries mixed together and put in pretty little glasses with a raspberry and a mint leaf on top. <br />
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The theme was "Pretties, Pearls, and Posies." But also somehow it was clown themed. (The speaker was a clown--more about that next.) The napkin holders were clown noses, there were colorful balloons all over, and the centerpieces were surprisingly cute and clever. Balloons that weren't blown up had wire put inside them to shape them like petals and leaves and then made into flowers and put in arrangements in colorful planters. <br />
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The clown who spoke to us goes around the world and performs on the street after disasters (9/11, Katrina, etc.) and in hospitals and orphanages. Now I'm not one of those people who completely freak out at the sight of clowns, but they do creep me out just a little. Especially when they come up behind me and start dusting me off with a feather duster. In fact, it would creep me out if anyone did that.<br />
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The clown spoke about friendship, had a few jokes and tricks, and we all sang songs together. (Think soundtrack to "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou" and you'll know some of the songs we sang.)<br />
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It was completely out of my comfort zone, but it was a new experience. I hope that we're not still here in a year, but if we are, I will be going to the annual Bickleton Ladies' Tea again.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-38998837498059991682011-03-15T10:05:00.000-07:002011-03-15T10:05:28.801-07:00Our StreetMy husband grew up in a town called Boring, and yes, it's boring. But it's nothing compared to our town and street here.<br />
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Yesterday I looked up and saw the school's track team running down the street. I opened our front blinds and called my daughter over. She had a great time watching the kids run by.<br />
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And that is the most exciting thing we've ever seen on our street.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-77346940344708448142011-03-11T14:19:00.000-08:002011-03-11T14:19:28.797-08:00Another Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The little red wagon is back in working order. It wasn't too cold out and the wind wasn't howling, so we ventured to town to get the mail.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I walked down the silent street I pondered why someone would choose to live here. Yes, I live here, but I didn't really choose it. I think many people choose to live here precisely for one of the reasons I don't like it: nothing happens here. It's quiet and sleepy and distraction-free. This also explains why most of the population seems to be over 60 years old. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the way home, I had to correct myself about the nothing happens. The stupid yappy neighbor dog got out of its yard and chased us. I don't like strange dogs anyway, but our other neighbor had mentioned that they didn't trust that dog, so I had already worried about the possibility of it getting out. It eventually stopped coming after us, but not after getting my adrenaline up and preparing to kick it if it came anywhere near my child (sorry animal lovers, anything threatening my child is going to get a kick).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I sincerely hope the stupid dog doesn't get out again. Because if it does we're going to have to talk to the owner. I've only met his daughter and she was old, so this guy must be ancient and I think practically house-bound. But I also can't be made to feel like I can't safely leave my own house. Especially when walking to the post office is the only thing there is to do here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On a lighter note, before the dog incident we stopped and admired a patch of snowdrops growing on the side of the road. My daughter even thought they were pretty enough to eat.</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmzgud89x2pom-zBq24USPpBmOkHZemAykdocBInzcbqj-j2qR8PE4sZkONcDefSP5qxlmgxzn6Qn7FpBT_cSxS4gmZVaMkk46AMLcP3w7tGTfpIsGTZ_5VlT50EWeXBJPNCVlOkF1EGr/s1600/CIMG4818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPmzgud89x2pom-zBq24USPpBmOkHZemAykdocBInzcbqj-j2qR8PE4sZkONcDefSP5qxlmgxzn6Qn7FpBT_cSxS4gmZVaMkk46AMLcP3w7tGTfpIsGTZ_5VlT50EWeXBJPNCVlOkF1EGr/s320/CIMG4818.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Z1NL2JxOcprYOEJArsG5ckDvKlATSnc6_MIA84x5DuDvYKnufjKGS4no2sJT5LQsGUUVl0F4UUHNG6KNUeKBEmIJSZIU3Kz76ZW9ynyQmUIYj1SFiX1HvAfL_P1Bu8n7AgWFgKVFkiO3/s1600/CIMG4819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Z1NL2JxOcprYOEJArsG5ckDvKlATSnc6_MIA84x5DuDvYKnufjKGS4no2sJT5LQsGUUVl0F4UUHNG6KNUeKBEmIJSZIU3Kz76ZW9ynyQmUIYj1SFiX1HvAfL_P1Bu8n7AgWFgKVFkiO3/s320/CIMG4819.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3L9J5PsMQdRyLG8ZAgg5osqQFSnrMaCZyd9FmOCZrbzQ6iphcB3TsTDeGF0e05-EiKBCq8PTJuK35YPExCUnoyBZyW4KpM6CZ4nF5uAdmwpUVO7CIMHq15LH0hlroboHIjQkdJQkjCIu/s1600/CIMG4820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3L9J5PsMQdRyLG8ZAgg5osqQFSnrMaCZyd9FmOCZrbzQ6iphcB3TsTDeGF0e05-EiKBCq8PTJuK35YPExCUnoyBZyW4KpM6CZ4nF5uAdmwpUVO7CIMHq15LH0hlroboHIjQkdJQkjCIu/s320/CIMG4820.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="left"></div>Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-22824248977881566402011-03-07T15:02:00.000-08:002011-03-07T15:02:05.283-08:00Our Little Red Wagon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHtjE9bVOHlXiYx7AWMzhAbU3YsZKzGe9DOTKvPsreSb_7olVtbBXLGEzjHd_1XNJUeCjyvn0Gu-aggpKjFSBtEtwvyg7A_8UGM60EwM3pWfmnuZci3Cx58HZWMwfMyhR8OFGn01PEiKU9/s1600/wagon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHtjE9bVOHlXiYx7AWMzhAbU3YsZKzGe9DOTKvPsreSb_7olVtbBXLGEzjHd_1XNJUeCjyvn0Gu-aggpKjFSBtEtwvyg7A_8UGM60EwM3pWfmnuZci3Cx58HZWMwfMyhR8OFGn01PEiKU9/s1600/wagon.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I deemed it warm enough to walk to the Post Office. It was the third time we’ve been able to take out our new Radio Flyer All Terrain Wagon. And there’s only been a handful of other times we’ve been able to walk to town since we moved here months ago. Stupid winter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, just over 40 degrees out, only a light wind. I convinced my daughter to put on pants so we could bundle up the rest of the way and head outside. She loves playing outside—and every time we go outside she tries to walk down the road. So a trip walking to town? Tons of fun. She gets to ride and look at the birds while I pull the wagon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know if it will be any different in the spring and summer, but when we walk down to the heart of Bickleton, it feels a bit like a ghost town. There are houses and buildings but absolutely no people out. There’s nothing to listen to but the occasional dog barking at you and the jingle jangle of the wagon riding over gravel and poorly patched pavement.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then, I heard a new sound. The light tinkle of a bunch of little metal pieces falling off the wagon onto the road. I stopped and turned around to watch the front of the wagon slide off the axle and rest on the ground. And my daughter looking at me wondering why we had stopped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What do you do with a young toddler and a broken wagon a quarter of a mile from home? After a moment of hoping that maybe this wasn’t actually happening, I took my daughter out of the wagon in case it fell more. Then I grabbed the pieces of the wagon and pulled it all to the side of the road. We were right next to the tavern so I hung the blankets that had lined the wagon over a horizontal wooden rail that probably was used to tie up horses a century or so ago.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long story short, I did not have the tools to properly reattached the front axel and wheels, but I got it just enough so it could limp along without me having to toss the handle and front wheels in and pull it along on its back wheels, making it so my daughter would have to walk the rest of the way home—which was my back up plan. I did this while intermittently yelling out to my daughter to stay close to Mommy. Not because there was any real fear of cars coming by, but it’s a good habit to learn not to run into the road. And if I’d let her run free, I’m pretty sure she would have been to the other end of town before I finished putting the wagon more or less back together. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We walked to the Post Office, said hello to the lady who works there, and headed for home. My daughter was content to walk home instead of ride, but what she really wanted to do was stay outside indefinitely and run wild down the side streets of Bickleton. So then I carried her. And eventually put her kicking and fighting back into the wagon. Our walk home was much longer because I had to stop every few yards to retighten the nut/bolt thing that was keeping the whole thing precariously together. (Eli will have to use his Daddy skills when he comes home to rebuild the front of the wagon.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And thus begins a spring and summer full of frequent walks to and from town.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Disclaimer: I love our all terrain wagon, despite it falling to pieces. Can you imagine what the roads would have done to a cheaper wagon? Plus it pulls quite easily through gravel, mud, slush, and snow.</span>Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-57334988480187469352011-02-22T20:56:00.000-08:002011-02-22T20:56:31.974-08:00DrivingWe do lots of driving out here.<br />
<br />
In good weather it's 45 minutes to church. <br />
45 minutes to a gas station. <br />
45 minutes to a grocery store. <br />
45 minutes to a library. <br />
1.5 hours to a bookstore. <br />
1.5 hours to the doctor's office.<br />
<br />
That's a long drive with a sick child (and a sleep deprived parent who's been taking care of a sick child).<br />
<br />
There are a few good things about the long drives. We encounter very little, if any traffic. The road up to Bickleton used to be gravel and was paved only a few months before we moved here. And the long drives let me see something besides the view outside my window. I don't really like the views in Bickleton itself, but there are many areas close by with lovely views of trees, mountains, the Columbia River, fruit orchards, green fields, and wind turbines.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-41681092913171903522011-02-18T10:25:00.000-08:002011-02-18T10:25:22.041-08:00The Return of Winter?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgII3_6HbPBewce-UhebX5avpTg24RaGksWlgXhVf8XoOfqje14AQCmgs57T3UQ-KlU6_GwEB2x8BUsybfV0rhyH4eTkArYC7TFVaRiAJQNstVcvS8WxK53oDld4uSKZxY21w8cl3BzfLRE/s1600/CIMG4745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgII3_6HbPBewce-UhebX5avpTg24RaGksWlgXhVf8XoOfqje14AQCmgs57T3UQ-KlU6_GwEB2x8BUsybfV0rhyH4eTkArYC7TFVaRiAJQNstVcvS8WxK53oDld4uSKZxY21w8cl3BzfLRE/s320/CIMG4745.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
A couple days after we returned from our trip, it looked like winter had returned to Bickleton. But then the snow melted. And then it snowed. And then it melted. All day long.<br />
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The last couple of days have been dry but cold. Give me one or the other. Either really snow and stick and give us something beautiful to look at and play in. Or warm up already so I can go outside, walk to the post office, and use our new wagon.<br />
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As it is, we're stuck inside all day every day with nothing but a dry, blah landscape to look at.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-57200505290516274692011-02-13T07:11:00.000-08:002011-02-13T07:11:48.952-08:00Where Nobody Knows Your NameWe took a trip to our old stomping grounds this week--Portland, Oregon. I've definitely missed the landscape and the family and friends we have here. It's nice to be surrounded by the familiar.<br />
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But it's also nice to go out to the store or go out to eat and be completely anonymous. Nobody knows you, nobody looks twice at you, nobody comments about watching you walk down the street earlier in the day (note to self: do not scratch your butt when walking down a street in Bickleton, you are most likely being watched).<br />
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I'm not a hugely social person, so it's nice to go out and not have to make conversation with every person I pass. My husband on the other hand is one of the friendliest people I know and he loves the fact that you talk to everyone you see and wave to every car driving by in the tiny town of Bickleton.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-25209531639368383492011-02-04T13:59:00.000-08:002011-02-04T13:59:09.991-08:00CoyotesWe have only seen one coyote since we moved here, but we’ve heard of and heard many more.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago our neighbor invited us to bring our daughter up to see their kittens. She adores cats so we took him up on the offer and got to see the cute little kittens (well, cute until they started attacking my leg). They were living in a sort of mud room between the garage and the house. Our neighbor said that they are going on a trip in February and when they get back the two sweet little kitties will be neutered and put out in the barn. (Cats earn their keep around here by keeping down the mice.) And then he said that he just hoped the coyotes wouldn’t get them. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">*****</div><br />
Last week my daughter started turning on the baby monitor that was hanging over her crib, which made it hard to hear her crying on the other side of the hall, especially when we’re sleeping. So we moved the monitor out of her reach so we would always be sure to hear her crying in the night.<br />
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Last night as we were trying to go to sleep, I thought I heard crying in the distance, but I couldn’t hear it on the monitor. I finally jumped up to check on my daughter when my husband figured out what we were hearing: coyotes.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-88274733348280694382011-02-02T19:12:00.000-08:002011-02-02T19:12:30.016-08:00A Taste from Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQv34ljcvUrLm3c4_ZrI-IAyndL9iJTqwBGVZsuETmriyLb5OaYm-Iba4F1cNKmnuN5JAojeEKZFC8WsheOsQq57ZXItNJYIoFi1xce1uqmpQXLPra9fbb6rh02HxJiyfbkOLp717hrXFc/s1600/CIMG4679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQv34ljcvUrLm3c4_ZrI-IAyndL9iJTqwBGVZsuETmriyLb5OaYm-Iba4F1cNKmnuN5JAojeEKZFC8WsheOsQq57ZXItNJYIoFi1xce1uqmpQXLPra9fbb6rh02HxJiyfbkOLp717hrXFc/s320/CIMG4679.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Every winter when I get a little blah, I start to get homesick. And just as that was hitting me, I got a package from my sister in Utah filled with Stephen's hot cocoa.<br />
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I've heard people question aloud why Utahns are obsessed with Stephen's hot cocoa. I'll tell you: because it's delicious. If I search I can usually find Milk Chocolate and Chocolate Mint Truffle in my stores, and if I'm vigilant I might find Belgian Dark Chocolate. But that Cherry Chocolate I've been drooling over? Definitely not. Toss in some White Chocolate and some Caramel Apple Cider and I'm set. I will survive the winter one warm and tasty cup at a time.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-69407271996889151762011-01-29T10:30:00.000-08:002011-01-29T10:30:03.703-08:00Where We AreThere is always the anticipation<br />
of the change, the chance that what is wrong<br />
is the result of where you are.<br />
<br />
from "Where We Are" by Gerald LocklinEmileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-43787993689572525552011-01-27T11:05:00.000-08:002011-01-27T11:05:04.091-08:00The Wind Economy<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hSJ_fwaLx_4?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
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This video is about the town of 3,000+ that is about an hour away from us, but the story is similar throughout the region and for Bickleton itself. Small town, lost jobs, farms barely scraping by, and then the wind industry appears and revitalizes the job market and the community. The thing they once cursed, high winds, has become a blessing to their economy.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-92183046485703812752011-01-24T11:09:00.001-08:002011-01-27T11:05:19.758-08:00NamesBickleton was named after Charles Bickle and his wife Fanny Bacon Bickle (that woman just had no luck with names). Bickleton is in Klickitat County.<br />
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Road names are not very inventive out here: Cemetery Road has a cemetery on it. Dot Road leads down to Highway 14 and east of Dot Road there is East Road—in between the two, you could choose to take Middle Road. But Middle Road isn’t paved, so I don’t recommend it. The town leading through the middle of the town is called Market Road—the local market is on it.<br />
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Place names are a little more original than the road names. There’s the Bluebird Inn, the Hen’s Nest, Lazy A Ranch, the Honey Do Ache’rs, and the Whoop-n-Holler Museum.<br />
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Even many of the people have countrified names, names that I’ve only read in books. The men are mostly named Bob and Earl and Bob. I’ve met women with names that I’ve only seen in books: Nelda and Wilma and Irma. And some I’ve never even heard of like Delma and Lovina.<br />
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All the place names fascinate me, but some of the local pronunciations makes the grammarian in me shudder. Creek is crick, turbine is turbin, and I’ve heard tortillas with the “L” sound pronounced.Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053279213324150379.post-31367993515810969492011-01-20T11:12:00.000-08:002011-01-20T11:12:15.432-08:00The View from My Window<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzvfA-iYnw9CdEhdGP-xlabsdfgtXU_MwXCJ9gTydL0RrWrG49ymkF187gcFjuPaw7p_CcMHgp9VeU7ZEKkPl0CcJ5i579rzLlT9oPXcB0zgah41py1WELk57cnKzTspw1seLoQ-M86M_/s1600/CIMG4650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzvfA-iYnw9CdEhdGP-xlabsdfgtXU_MwXCJ9gTydL0RrWrG49ymkF187gcFjuPaw7p_CcMHgp9VeU7ZEKkPl0CcJ5i579rzLlT9oPXcB0zgah41py1WELk57cnKzTspw1seLoQ-M86M_/s400/CIMG4650.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX3i_RPskK1Uh-z4foldt6qo9YDN1f32chzSUDBwwrmm7yJYS2ssIjSmjgrm73OfUMNU0rSClF9jn57zRdLOYP-riolELLsqCk3KSMpHcm4oZToZXSgFUxKZ9QKpvqH4UnFJ9UEa2-nqe0/s1600/CIMG4648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX3i_RPskK1Uh-z4foldt6qo9YDN1f32chzSUDBwwrmm7yJYS2ssIjSmjgrm73OfUMNU0rSClF9jn57zRdLOYP-riolELLsqCk3KSMpHcm4oZToZXSgFUxKZ9QKpvqH4UnFJ9UEa2-nqe0/s400/CIMG4648.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dvZOTXQuXgvsI5pFrOtsfhotZoLq7suHq3XdBYoua8wphe3zoQYI6fS3Kszd-jF1pG5ygop8wmKIUrKZo5_eAs7lLS-ntlVjzd0iadfQSehMkA7zlyh3g9c1b2YaTn1zT0CQ7A-PaZay/s1600/CIMG4649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dvZOTXQuXgvsI5pFrOtsfhotZoLq7suHq3XdBYoua8wphe3zoQYI6fS3Kszd-jF1pG5ygop8wmKIUrKZo5_eAs7lLS-ntlVjzd0iadfQSehMkA7zlyh3g9c1b2YaTn1zT0CQ7A-PaZay/s400/CIMG4649.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Emileehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12324479636562480788noreply@blogger.com3