Perhaps this chapter should be titled “The end of the trip”. I HATE leaving places, whether it is home, or a place I have visited. Am I like Lot’s wife, looking back longingly, lingering in the past? Maybe. But with age and experience comes wisdom (sometimes), and that means I know looking forward is a better approach.
The perfection of the roses, the lack of deer in the yard. . . happy sigh.
We took one last walk the day I left. Each day we walked, I carried my cell phone to keep track of the distance. I think my phone lies. My sister’s step counter always showed a longer distance, and I assure you that we were going the same distance, and she was not walking circles around me.
The phone came in handy for a few photos, one last time of oohing and ahhing over all the beauty, so different from Three Rivers.
This classic is begging to be drawn.
After stopping at Trader Joe’s (because there isn’t one in Tulare County) and Winco (because otherwise I might have had to stop in Visalia on the way home) and Chevron (because I wanted to drive for 9 hours and had to begin with a full tank), I headed south. Another audio book would take me to a suburb of Sacramento, aiming for the house of a dear friend.
Before crossing back into California, I stopped for gas again. (It takes about 4 tanks to go the distance between my home and my sister’s.) I like Oregon’s luxury of not pumping my own gas and having my windshield washed for me. Alas, this law is about to change.
What I didn’t like was the hideous bug that landed on my arm. I might have squealed a little bit. I heard a woman scream at the next row of gas pumps, and I don’t think it was due to the price of gas or any untoward behavior by the attendant.
When I was safely inside the pick-’em-up truck, I saw the hideous bug on the windshield. Three of them, actually. It was alarming, but I managed to snap a couple of photos while staying in my lane.
Got another glimpse of Mt. Shasta on the way home.
I made my way to my friend’s house, where she provided a fine welcome. We had much to catch up, having been apart by a month, and we stayed up way too late. The following morning, I got up before she did, snuck out of the house, and was on the road before she woke up. It was only a 5 hour drive, and I was a horse heading for the barn (to quote my Very Wise Dad who had a saying for every occasion).
Thus we end our ongoing saga of a Trip to Oregon. Maybe someday I will get to live there. On the other hand, since I hate leaving places and am never moving again, it isn’t likely.
5 Comments
Another beautiful day for a drive, with some lovely views! I lived in Oregon (and Washington) for 8 years, and loved it. So green. So rainy. So liberal! I’m sure I would still live in the PNW if God hadn’t called me to the music ministry in So. Calif.
I would have squealed, too, if that creature landed on me! Did you ever figure out what it was?
I’m glad you had such a beautiful sight to welcome you home!
Sharon, I didn’t want to know what that bug was. There were so many. . . total ugh.
That welcoming sight was at my friend’s. I was welcomed by my three cats and geraniums with missing blossoms, thanks to those giant flower-eating rats called “deer”.
Oh dear, deer. But there’s nothing like returning home from a trip and having your furbabies wrap their little bodies around your ankles in a “welcome home” greeting! Love, love!
Thank you! I had a lovely vacation from my chair! Sandy
Sandy, happy to oblige!!
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