The Moment of Truth

After four weeks of spine-tingling anticipation and anxious glances, today was the day of reckoning. Would all the time, tears, patience, and smelly green things lead to fruition in the form of a delectable alcoholic beverage? Or would it all be for naught, that one sneaky dog hair having ruined the entire precious batch? It all came down to this.

We held our breath as the lid was pried open. The hiss of escaping pressure was a reassuring sign; so was the clear amber color as Carl poured the first glass. "Smells like beer", he said after a tentative whiff. Then he took a swig and I swear to you the man started to glow. A grin broke out from ear to ear that would put the Cheshire cat to shame. Beaming triumphantly, holding the glass aloft, he crowed, "I've made beer! And it's damn good, too! I am AWESOME!" Congratulations, Carl, on joining the illustrious ranks of the Homebrew Army; your mom and I are both very proud of you.

The rest of the week wasn't nearly as eventful. I went to school, Carl recovered from a head cold, and Bubba moped at home. It was once again sunny this weekend so we took Bubba for a hike up in the hills behind town, catching glimpses of Mt. McLoughlin over the far edge of the valley and following deer trails through the woods. Back at home we made blue cheese burgers with locally raised beef, cheese from the next town over, and bread baked down the street. Everything's better in Ashland.

Rogue River Rambles

After a busy week there's nothing better to clear the head than some long walks in beautiful places. Since my parents were visiting we had to show them around Ashland Saturday afternoon, winding up at the Standing Stone Brewery for some delicious burgers and beer. Today we trekked a little farther north through the town of Merlin and on out to the Rogue River trail. Just like the name suggests, it's a trail that runs alongside the Rogue River, and if you wanted you could follow it for 40 miles until you hit Gold Beach and the coast. We weren't feeling quite that ambitious so we turned around at Rainie Falls, which at this water level was more of a longish rapid instead of a true waterfall. Here's a picture looking downstream at the beginning of the hike. Let the forced march begin!

Cheesing it up with my folks at Rainie Falls.

The boys and me at the same spot.

While there were a number of people following the Rainie Falls trail on the opposite shore, we only passed one other couple on the cool side of the river. The trail head marks the beginning of the wild and scenic section and we look forward to revisiting the upstream portion when summer arrives (which in this corner of the world will be next month or so).

Red Letter Weekend

You know things are getting exciting when the Martin Luther King Jr. cactus starts blooming (since it didn't deign to show its face around Christmas I'm renaming it after the pertinent holiday). It's the first time this particular plant has produced flowers, so you'll excuse my enthusiasm. School is gradually getting more intense, the weather took a turn for the damp and blustery, and we've had some exciting new additions to the house.

Pictured above is Carl's carboy when it was in full fermentation mode, happily bubbling away in the pantry. All that yeasty foam slowly settled to the bottom over a period of fourteen days. Today was the fateful day of transferring all that lovely fermented liquid from one big bottle into several little ones. Carl has been on his own so far in this process, but this time I got to assist and abet in the operation. In my left hand I've got a contraption known as the Emily Capper (with a name like that, I had to get involved). In my right I'm holding a successfully filled and capped bottle of homebrew. Bubba was, as usual, unimpressed with the whole dog and pony show.

My job was to a) hold the siphon that transferred the beer from the glass carboy to a plastic 5 gallon bucket for further distribution and then b) take the filled bottles from Carl and use my spiffy red capper to seal them up. The whole operation took about an hour, not including all the sterilizing and cleaning. Bubba and I celebrated by lounging on the new sofa, the third momentous occasion of the weekend. With this new addition we were able to rearrange our awkward living room into something a little less stilted, and move the futon to the upstairs loft for a more complete feel. It's amazing how such little adjustments can make everything click into place. With homebrew and sofa our feng shui is complete.

Week 1

The past couple mornings the valley has been inundated with freezing fog, the moisture in the air solidifying as it comes into contact with the edges of leaves, delicate spider webs, and even the front of my jacket as I bike to school. Thick banks creep up the hills muffling the outside world and putting it on pause. My life feels like this, too, as I get wrapped up in a new environment, a new set of people, a new language of description. Massage school is not for the faint of heart. There's something to terrify everyone, be it intimate self-exploration or copious amounts of memorization. By 4:30 on Friday we all looked like we had been run over by a herd of stampeding bison.

My mind is running around in circles; even my body is adjusting to the new, rigorous schedule. Waking up in the morning before the sun, getting home around dark, remaining engaged all day long takes its toll. Luckily the teachers are the caring, understanding kind who know how difficult a transition this is for most of us. I at least have the benefit of attending school in the last five years; for others it's been a lot longer since they sat in a classroom. This week we covered introductions (many times over), expectations, how to drape and undrape someone on a table without exposing anything embarrassing (it's harder than you think), and began learning the language to find our way around the body: superior, inferior, lateral, medial, proximal, distal (and those are just reference terms - just wait until we actually start in on bones and muscles).

Thank goodness I've got a live-in study guide. Carl has been settling in to his job at the White City VA as a recreation therapy assistant. He's been to two high school basketball games, got paid for them, and soon gets to start organizing his own trips. It's quite convenient having a body around to poke and prod, flex and extend. And drape - have you ever tried to manhandle 200 pounds of dead weight? After that I'll be ready for anything.

Ring It In Right

How best to celebrate the New Year in a new place? By exploring it, of course. New Year's Eve found us driving north in search of home brew supplies to complete the kit Carl received for Christmas. After checking out a couple places we wound up just around the corner from the Rogue Creamery. They claim to make the world's finest handmade cheese; as discerning dairy consumers and chronic sceptics we simply had to test their hypothesis. Several samples of blue cheeses and the best sharp cheddar I've ever had later, they just might be right. We walked out with our wares only to discover wine tasting right next door. The wonderful older couple working the counter told us all about the grapes they grow on their land up near Jacksonville, describing each medley as they poured for us. Thanking them, we continued on to the next building and found handmade chocolates. Fully sated, loaded with goodies, we headed home where I whipped up some leek and potato soup from all local veggies to ring in the New Year. What's not to love about a place where all these wonderful tastes are created right in your backyard?

Carl and I turned in early so as to get a good start on the new year. He was up early as ever despite being out of coffee; Bubba and I muddled our way groggily out of bed as per usual. The clear, frosty morning made for a gorgeous drive east on the road towards Klamath Falls. The trees got denser and taller, the snowbanks grew higher, and before we knew it we were in a veritable winter wonderland.

Our chosen trail head took off from the road right at the borders of the Rogue River and Winema National Forests, just south of Sky Lakes Wilderness. We had the parking lot to ourselves except for one other truck. Carl spent a couple minutes adjusting his new snowshoes before we set off into winter.

Bubba was anxious to get going.

Since any blazes or signage was covered by the feet of snow, we followed an old track up into the woods. For once Bubba had to do twice as much work scouting out the trail and then reporting back.

He managed to find a hole on one mission...

...extrication successful!

Hiking out of a creek bed on our way back to the truck.

We stopped at Fish Lake to check it out. Mt. Brown is hiding in the clouds.

We're back home with tired legs and an exhausted dog, sun burnt noses and a much better appreciation of the lay of the land. Here's wishing you and yours a happy 2011 - may it be the best one yet!