I Heart Bend

"Over the mountains and through the woods 

To grandmother's house we go

The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh

Through the white and drifted snow."

~~~

I have always loved that song.

A family, all bundled up and filled with excitement as they travel through the wilds of winter
to see their loved ones. What an image. 

Normal Rockwell classic.

But truth be told, it's also not as glamorous as it sounds.

We made such a journey a couple weeks ago, and I can attest to that fact.

There was no sleigh, just a sturdy mini-van with low-profile tires
and a flimsy bag of chains in the trunk.

We weren't heading to grandmother's house {though MomLady was in attendance}.

I saw plenty of white and drifted snow, which was lovely,
but when semi-trucks are skidding out, it's slightly less charming.

And if we're getting nit-picky about stuff,
I'll just specify that the mountains were quite large, Cascade Mountain Range style,
with miles and miles of deep, dark woods on either side
 - the kind that freeze your ass in an instant, should you befall engine trouble.

There were some frozen lakes, too. And Lord knows how many miles of icy interstate.

It was quite the adventure,
and I'm not ashamed to say that The Russian white-knuckled most of it.

But we had good reason to trek southeast some 330 miles.
The Russian's family gathered together - all 17 of us
{not counting one bun in the over...and no, not my oven}. 

We stayed in a large rental property on the outskirts of Bend, Oregon - one of my
most favorite places on this round and magnificent earth. 

The house was tucked in among the pines, hiking trails,
and countless roundabouts of Sun River, a family-style resort and residential community.

Although it didn't snow during our stay, we enjoyed the spoils of that early storm that
blew in before our arrival. 

Obviously, sledding ensued. All seven of our Littles squealed and slid for two days,
and it was pretty great. 

They stumbled around outside, thickly padded arms and legs
like the ornamental stick appendages of snowmen.

Even though its kind of mean, I always laugh when they topple over face first. 

I woke with Mister, Honeybee, and Mac every morning, before the sun fully rose in the sky, before the rest of the family stirred, and we watched the light filter down through the tall, thin trees. We tiptoed out onto the decks and listened to the crackling quiet of ice. We cuddled on the couch and watched cartoons as the coffee brewed. 

And at night, after the kids went to sleep, the adults watched movies, talked about life,
and carried on the fine and admirable tradition of beer sampling. 

There is always much savoring and discussion, because in the immortal words of Stephen King,
"A man who lies about beer makes enemies."

So, there you have it. Just trying to promote world peace one beer at a time. :)

On our second day, we drove into town, and this turned out to be a most enlightening experience. One of my sister-in-laws led us down Tin Pan Alley to a hidden,
hole-in-the-wall cafe - Lone Pine Coffee Roasters. 

And there I tasted the best cup of coffee I've ever had in my Whole Entire Life.

This Lemon Cream Latte - true nirvana. 

Is it possible to be smitten with a delicately flavored, caffeinated beverage? Absolutely yes.

Long story short, it was a fun trip.

I wasn't sure what to expect of Bend in the off-season,
but I should have known that the time of year wouldn't matter. It's just one of those places...

...one of of those always cool, big sky, woodsy smelling, outdoor crazy,
coffee innovating, brewery laden places.

Exactly my kind of place.

I heart Bend.

A Fine, Fine Layer

It's back, the silvery shimmer in the air. 

I love that about this time of year. 

As the months wear on, and the icy winds of dark winter come down from the north, 

our atmosphere takes on a periwinkle hue. 

But for now, silver twinkles in the sky. 

A fine, fine layer of fairy dust.

All hours of the day, especially on those clear and sunny ones, it's there - just above the trees.

On the horizon-line.

Above the water.

Riding the rare sunbeams that burn away the grey.

And everything seems more brilliant, the fiery shades of Fall amplified.

~~~

Here's what I see: a silvery-shimmer spectrum of light.

A seasonal dimension of color.