A hidden treasure on the northern coast of California is the sea wall at Crescent City. My friend Dorothy, who lives near Point St. George, took me for a drive along the wall several summers ago.  It was a warm and fogless day,  rare for the northern coast. We began our drive at the city park on the bay, looking south, then turned west and north past the Battery Point Lighthouse in order to follow the sea wall. Houses are built across the road from the wall all the way through town until one arrives at a long grassy bluff stretching out to sea. We walked out to the end of the bluff where the St George Reef Lighthouse was visible standing guard on rocks a full ten miles away. A short walk northeast over a large knoll revealed another phenomenal sight: the shore curved slowly right to left and north thirty miles. This was Pelican Bay, and though I have lived on its north end, and been a visitor to this area all my life, I had never had the privilege of viewing this aspect of the “banana belt” of the southern Oregon coast. Along the mid section of the bay is the California-Oregon border, just north of the Ship-Ashore resort and the Smith River. The shoreline faded into mist at its far end, and only a suggestion of the hills there near Brookings, Oregon were visible.

I took these pictures of a poplar plantation on Interstate 84 while driving east at 65 mph. I held my little Sony digital out to the right trying to exclude the car window and side mirror from the pictures. A little white sports car behind me flashed its lights before it passed. I think the driver was concerned. I may have been changing speeds, being a little erratic as I snapped the pictures. Ron told me not to get distracted on my way home, but boredom ensues on that highway, and I fell prey to my creative instincts. I remembered what he said and proceeded to behave. A little tweaking on these blurry images produced some interesting images.

I love these trees. We in Eastern Oregon have been watching them grow since the late 1900’s.  In the rolling grassy hills between Pendleton and Arlington immense fields of seasonal crops provide interest, but the area is devoid of trees and their changing colors. The size of these fields of poplars are also immense. I drive almost five miles before I am past them. They have been planted and harvested and replanted at different times, as indicated by small signs along the road. The first field ever planted has never been harvested, and has large trees and the dark of the forest beneath its canopy.  I have been told they are planted from cloned seeds, and I try to see if the trees branch out in the same places. I have often thought they did, but the way a seed turns in the ground obviously would affect the direction of the branches. Besides, when you are passing them at high speed, well, …

Sara is my daughter-in-law, married to our son Gabriel. They have three wonderful children. Sara planted a dazzling array of baby’s breath at the beginning of her driveway and lovely dogwood trees and lavender all along it as it curves up to the house. The yard is full of beautiful things – rhododendrons, azaleas, lychee trees, olive trees, delicate vines growing up over stucco walls, Italian cedar, agapanthus and so much more. When Sara touches anything, it is transformed into a thing of beauty. She is a graphic designer and now a full-time mother, busier than she ever was working!

I am very blessed to live next door to Denise, a florist who for the last twenty years has cultivated a yard entirely filled with flowers. Hundreds of rose bushes, lilies, flox, sunflowers, pansies, cascading  petunias from every window box, and dozens of trees surround the historic old house. Denise built a tiny cottage in the back where she provides English teas using silver and porcelain.  This summer she opened an outdoor breakfast bakery, serving cinnamon rolls, Belgian waffles, coffee cake and cookies all set out on lace covered tables amid the color and fragrance of her garden flowers. On warm mornings, the shade trees provide comfort for guests who drink coffee, chat and devour Denise’s delicious scones or Belgian waffles.

I get the special joy of walking past her yard several times a week. I always pause to drink in the perfume and the beauty. Many times I have wished to have my camera with me. This year she allowed me to photograph to my heart’s content.

Glenna is my neighbor. Her yard is always beautiful. She works endless hours planting and tending her flowers and her vegetable garden with the help of her friend, Monty. Glenna has won overall points at the local Baker County Fair for the last three years. Her canning is famous, her flowers abundant, and this year she also entered the photography section. Glenna is in her mid-eighties. We watch out for each other’s houses when we are gone. These are just a few photos, which do not even begin to give her justice.

For the last four years we have spent the month of February camped at Bastendorf Beach on the Oregon Coast. Coos Bay forms a horseshoe shape that bends around the town aptly named North Bend, and then extends its two legs southward, one on the inland side of the peninsula, one on the seaward side. The seaward end of the horseshoe ends in Charleston, the little fishing village near the South Jetty. Charleston’s wharf accomodates most of the crab and salmon boats in the area, and is home to a large cannery. The South Slough and its wildlife as well as three Oregon State Parks;  Sunset Beach, Shore Acres, and Cape Arago, are located nearby. These pictures come from the many I have taken at Charleston or on the Southern Oregon Coast

These pictures show my dear mother-in-law Jewell, called Granny Goose by her grandchildren, sharing her string beans with her twin great-grandchildren Dylan and Max. In the last few years her vegetable garden has been smaller, but Jewell loved providing her family with the canned fruits and vegetables that the garden provided. Dylan and Max snapped beans with her.  Although I took the pictures of the three of them, the boys took the other pictures, including the close-up of their Granny Goose.