yankee doodle

Sept. 23, 2009

I shivered through four layers, yet somehow her bare fingers moved. Up and down the neck of the fiddle. “Amazing grace…” We already ate pizza, drank tea, and were on to Peanut Butter Cups…under the stars in the bitter Eastern Oregon air, while Stefanie took us back 100 years.

We met Michael and Stefanie in Baker City, OR’s bookstore. Bree asked if we could pitch a tent in their yard. We followed them, each of us on a bike, to their single-story house with a flock of quail in the front. The grass was cut short. We set up in the corner. They left and returned with pizza. Extra cheese. We made chamomile tea on our stove. Stefanie tapped her toe to her melody and beamed a genuine “cowgirl” smile.

In the morning they had doughnuts for us and tips for scenic rides. Generosity despite being unemployed…

A couple miles outside of La Grande a man was standing next to his parked truck. “I’m Jack Boyd,” he said as I approached. “Just wanted to make sure you girls didn’t eat in town. We got spaghetti simmering at the house.” He is the father of one of my Seaside High School teachers. His wife, Jennifer, had prepared a feast, complete with raspberry-topped vanilla ice-cream. In the evening we each found a cushion and a lamp in the living room to read.

Waking up early to brewed coffee, we ate together then took a sack into the backyard and loaded it with purple grapes, apples and plums straight from the tree.

Our bicycles--packed a little bit heavier--we maneuvered down the hill and towards the Blue Mountains, Pendleton, Portland and beyond.