My Oregon

Hi, again!

I have been busy this summer having some amazing adventures throughout the Willamette Valley. As a result, I have sorely neglected my blog. OOPS! I have all of these pictures that I took with the intent of sharing them here with you, and I just totally have not taken the time to sit down and write. So, I will be adding three new blog posts here in rapid fire succession in order to get current and share all these amazing adventures with you. I hope you don't mind too much.

One of my favorite things to do is learn something new. I love to seek truth and wisdom from all areas of life. Growing up, I learned a lot about the Oregon Trail because Oregon is where I hail from. The people of Oregon voted to decide if they wanted to be a part of the USA or not, and the decision was pretty close to split down the middle. The for's won in the end, but the place where it all took place, Champoeg, is located a mere six miles from where I live. I couldn't believe it. It was a beautiful July day, and I decided to hop on my bike and close the six mile between me and Champoeg State Park. And I'm so glad I did.

When I arrived at the park, I found a replica of a pioneer kitchen garden. Early pioneers grew much of their food in the rich farmlands that the Willamette Valley is famous for. The kitchen garden supplied a dependable source of food and was vital to the home economics of the day. The replica garden was very beautiful, full of life and birds! I had such a wonderful time wandering through it.

To give you an idea of what a pioneer garden looks like, I took some pictures.

I have been doing organic gardening this year in the community garden I am a part of, and it was interesting for me to note that the techniques I have been learning to use are not so new after all. Organic gardening is the way things were done before we had pesticides, before we had mass production of products and an accessible food supply. When families relied on what they could grow and the work of their own two hands in order to stay alive, it was organic farming that they used. Life was hard, but a lot simpler too. I sometimes question the sanity of our pace of life and our blindness toward where food comes from and what it goes through before it gets to us. Wandering through this historical site's garden made me realize that good things don't happen on accident. Everything grows in its season according to its type and with the proper care. I think people are a lot that way too. Maybe we've done ourselves a disservice by making our food sources so impersonal. In a way, we no longer know how to care for each other because we've failed to learn the lessons of cultivation from the earth. Just a musing...

Beauty and hardship seem to be inherently intertwined in Oregon. I think it's not just here though. When I got done wandering the garden, I went into cultural visiting center. They had a painting that a man devoted his life to of the event of Oregon becoming a state. The painter did a whole lot of research on the painting, spent his lifetime working on it on site working as a groundskeeper while painting. He ended up basically broke, never seeing his masterpiece sell. And now, it's on display at the State Park, along with his amazing story. I was caught by how much vision and strength of purpose he had to devote his life to a single act of greatness. His story touched my heart because I think we all want to be great and to be recognized for that greatness. Sometimes we get to experience the recognition in our lifetimes, and for some souls, the recognition comes after they are gone. I don't know if it is better to live in people's hearts while we are here or in their minds forever. I'm not sure which I would chose. Regardless, I think we should not withhold our very best from others. Here's a picture of the artist's best.

When I finished looking at the painting, I hit the trails the state park is known for and found a shady spot to eat my picnic lunch at. I enjoyed it so much. I live right by a busy highway, and the noise sometimes gets to me. Well, it was really nice to sit in the "silence" of nature. But I wouldn't exactly call it silence. It's more like a symphony of wild and unrestrained sound. I really enjoyed just relaxing in the summer heat and blowing bubbles into the branches of the trees.

And when I got done with all that and headed back, my back tire blew out on my bike and I limped it two miles down the road to a crossroads. My roommate picked me up half hour later, and I was left to muse on the beauty and hardship of Oregon. Adventure is never what we expect it will be. But the moments of pure joy mixed with the struggle are what make it worthwhile. I wouldn't have traded my trip to Champoeg for anything, not even a full tire. The beauty and the pain both let us know that we are alive and that we have so much to offer, to give, to love, and to strive for. This is my Oregon.