The Green Green Grass of Home

Portland, Ore., April 30 -- I’ve been without wifi for a couple days so the three of you who read this might have wondered if I got blown off the face of the earth. Well, almost, but never fear, I am here. We pulled into Portland, and the rv park I stay at when I’m here, on Tuesday night around 5:30 after bucking heavy headwinds much of the way.

Typically on this dash home the mornings have been calm and fair, followed by wind or rain or both in the afternoons, and we come dragging into an rv park around 5:30 or so some 500 miles later. And so it was when we left the little town just west of Twin Falls (how quickly we forget -- Wendell maybe). Then around Baker City the wind came up, as did the rain. The wind got even worse through the Columbia River Gorge -- there were a few times when I worried about tipping or losing control -- but we made it.

I liked much of the southern part of Idaho we drove through; kind of pastoral with lots of circle irrigation farms -- already the sprinklers are running and the hay and grain are a rich green. But there were other parts that are a little more rugged and rough, though nothing like Wyoming which I found overwhelmingly cold and dry and desolate. We drove through Boise and then Caldwell, the farm town where I was actually born, though I was raised in Central Washington.

Utah where I-84 passes through is similar to the Sedona area with lots of beautiful red rock formations, though not as breathtaking. Unfortunately I was driving at the time and didn’t get any pictures.

And then there is Oregon. What can I say about this state that I’ve lived in for 30 years? Driving across the border felt wonderful. Not even the most expensive diesel we’ve seen the whole trip ($4.38 a gallon), or the vicious winds in the Gorge, or the rain that fell on us off and on from Baker City west could dampen my enthusiasm at being home.

This time of year the hills that are usually brown are all green with cheat grass that will soon turn golden. The green is dotted with little yellow sunflowers and purple lupine and smaller blue and lavender forget-me-nots. In the Blue Mountains and the Cascades there is still plenty of snow on the higher peaks with pine and fir rising proudly up out of the snow. Then driving into the Gorge, with whisps of clouds and fog hanging on the peaks, the moss clinging to the rocks -- oh my gosh. I’m home!!!! And it’s beautiful. Even the rain is beautiful. I felt like George Bailey after his “dream.” Hello you wonderful Multnomah Falls, I love you Oregon rain, Crown Point, I’ve missed you. And what have I learned? Just like Dorothy -- I thought about her when we were in very windy Kansas -- there’s NO place like home.