First day of spring. In spite of COVID.

Looking back on March 2020:

Funny. It still looks the same. Out front. In town. On the trail.

In our dinky dog town - Mosier, Oregon. Population 430.

Columbia River style.

Rock Creek pond. In Mosier’s from yard. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And the sky is still reflecting.

And the fish are starting to jump.

For joy.

And bugs.

And you only see a flitter -

but you hear the splash

and their ripples remain, long afterwards.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And after the cold and grey

and challenge of winter.

They return again.

To lift us up.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And we are reminded of what matters most.

On the winding trail ahead.

Behind.

This one.

This uncharted path.

And the ones we’ve walked for years.

Our old farmhouse, in the distance. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And the layers.

Of lichen.

And light.

And life.

And in the distance…

our home.

Twin doxies. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

In spring, I get two dogs, for the price of one.

As my doxie and his shadow twin drag me along the trail.

And we’re not social distancing.

Doodle ‘n I. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Nope. Not Doodle ‘n I.

We’re in it together.

As we humans reinvent the social norms -

of 6 feet away - or more.

And businesses are closed.

And we’re worried.

But I know we'll find each other.

I know we’ll invent new ways to show we care.

And new ways to care for each other. 

Social media - a whole new meaning.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And PS, those huge rainbow trout in the pond right now are just spring crazy. Showing off.

Jumping for joy.

And bugs.

A great reminder.

Just when we’re getting all wrapped up in our human condition - Trout speaks up.

And makes us smile.

And just around the corner… sleep walking trees. And rusty dinosaurs.

Our home beach.

Our home beach, Rock Creek. Mosier, OR Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And kiters.

Like trout. 

Just waking up.

Making up. Lost time. Free time. No time like this.

A couple brave kiters already out there. Getting big spring air.

Tiki Dude, Rusty the recycled toaster dog ‘n spring friends, in the yard.. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

There is no place like home.

We’re stuck here, after all.

But are we really stuck?

'Tis spring.

Easter almost.

We'll come back from this.

We daffodils.

We trout.

We reflections.

We can be stronger. Closer. And farther away, all at the same time.

We are one.

FIRST PUBLISHED MARCH 2020

- Barb Ayers, Emergency Manager, Hood River County (on my day off from COVID response)

Our GetReadyGorge.com website - to help your neighbors prepare. www.GetReadyGorge.com

The fall of Summer... in the Columbia River Gorge

It’s pitch black when the alarm goes off

it takes a little longer to rally these days…

But, if you wait long enough,

warm rays creep in,

slow and easy,

caressing the cliff

as the Syncline face wakes up.

Coyote Wall Syncline across the Columbia River in Washington, from Mosier. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Low, grey fog over the Columbia,

rising with daybreak,

and your spirits rise.

Indian summers… coax you from bed.

Now, cue 3 dozen quail in the yard

who rummage around the bird feeder

as I rummage around the coffee maker and

blue jay has taken over the #1 spot

pushy guy

even though Robin, the early bird, got the first seed.

All those colors –  royal jay, rusty robin, copper quail

seem to work it out

with me, flesh-tone one,

in mellow Mosier.

The last squirrel stands his ground proudly.

He flaunts by, squirreling away seeds and walnuts and acorns.

He’s savvy, sneaky,

he has defied all attempts to send his species packing

as he defends his post

under my house

with his identical twin.

Our house. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

And the calico cat,

sleeping above the squirrels, one floor up,

is suddenly no longer content….

to simply flatten me against the mattress,     

like it’s summer.

Now she’s a cave dweller. A purr machine.

She’s a spooner now.

Undercover smother. 

Mosier fall on Old Columbia River Highway (30.) Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

 Morning sky has changed,

seemingly overnight. As if!

Comical clouds,      

ominous clouds,

get your butt to work clouds….

And the sounds outside are different

and the smell of rain

and a hundred million more        

rain drop friends                

are headed this way.

Smoke on the water for my commute. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Fall is for Pendleton Round Up and

Hood River Harvest Fest and

Trick or Treat on Oak Street and

I heard Timberline got 11 inches of powder overnight – hint of things to come.

And I heard that “sticky flies” were here last week–

the Parkdale farmers’ almanac of what’s up with weather.

And my car’s still loaded for windsurfing,

even though wind came and wind went…

Mt bff windsurf bud, Doodle. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Doodle Indian summer style, over the Hood River waterfront. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

cuz Indian summer is really SUP season –

Columbia River under the bow,

with my dog son - my dachshund

in a life vest… with two wetsuits now.

And that sliver of skin

between my ankles

and my sandals?

Now, a laser slice of ice…

and maybe that’s how bell-bottoms were invented?

I can’t wait for a whole new wardrobe…

… of leaves!

Now, a laser slice of ice…

and maybe that’s how bell-bottoms were invented?

I can’t wait for a whole new wardrobe…

… of leaves!

Karin’s kids in leaf attire - Minna and Motts. Photo: (c) Karin Erickson

Their happy go lucky rustle - rattle

always makes me smile.

And…

this is the time

we all come together,

all huddle inside,

to celebrate…

the fall of summer

and the spring of winter sports.

before Snow Man

comes to town.

My kids in leaf attire - Elvis n Dude (RIP) in Mosier. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org

Wooly Mammoth of a Dog-Man. My basset hound. My Elvis.

He is a Wooly Mammoth of a dog-man.

My basset hound, My Elvis.

He bulges everywhere.

He oozes everything.

Every follicle, every pore,

every Hush Puppy red rimmed blood shot

stare down happy-sad expression.

His outline - so not a sliver,        catches a sliver.

First light.

His scent is all night rain and fresh cut grass at daybreak.

Elvis is mostly slow and steady, like his shape.

Except when his 65 pound nose explodes awake!!

Like he’s suddenly giving birth!!

Like he’s standing guard for a long and lazy pregnancy!!

That massive nose drags the rest of him along like Raggedy Andy bobbing along behind.

Mammoth Man inches along    creaky old-soul kitchen floors,

Scent hound, mining for gold.   Last night’s pot roast.

Foot-long velvet ears drag dust bunnies on the Oregon Trail of our 113 year old farmhouse.

Elvis’ farmhouse. Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org.

Elvis wobbles and rambles

like a cowboy in a spaghetti western.

His Elizabethan neck collar       

flops side to side like a Brahma bull.

Backlit by warpy western windows,  

he’s a shadow puppet.

He’s expanding to fill the room!

The Elephant Man…    In a good way!

He’s huge and he’s a dwarf.

His warpy 3-foot spine rides long and low over 2 inch legs.

Bulging double layered ankles

were nick-named Skankles

by my other baby, my Katie.

And all of Elvis’ life and love and good intentions

bears down on those split-open cowboy boots.

Splayed out toenails are black.             

No, some are white.

And some, like the rest of him, are both.

Wooly Mammoth Man fills up all the empty space in the creaky old farmhouse and all of us in it.

Even the cat.

Even though she acts indifferent.

And the ground squirrels nesting under the floorboards.

And the quail family commuting through the yard, looking for meaningful work.

And the hummingbird buzzing around the creaky old porch

that’s sagging down in places like some spaghetti western.

Photo: (c) Barb Ayers, DogDiary.org.