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Sunday, July 19, 2020

News Trend Road Trip Sunset|Actual

^ Twilught skies over our first night?S stop in Butte, Montana

At the end of a long day on the road, maybe as I am shlepping in one last load from the car to the hotel room, or waking my stir-crazy dog around a grassy back field, or carrying bags full of take-out food up to my hungry family, I often get a chance to see the sunset.

And I think about how, for all the people who live in this place where I?M passing through, this is how a normal sunset looks.

Then I think of my sunsets at home, with towering, triangle-topped Douglas fir trees and the sunlight reflected on the waves of Puget Sound, lapping up on my rocky hometown beach, complete with a tiny lighthouse and a rumbling ferry boat.

I think how lucky I am to be me.

I wonder if the people in this place feel just as lucky to be who they are.

And I marvel at what an amazing thing it is to be alive and a part of this tilting planet.

And then, as the sun sinks low, dusk begins to gather, the bird calls quiet, and I realize it?S time to head inside, I think about how all that thinking cane from a simple road-trip sunset.

Crazy, right?

News Trend How We Roll|Actual

This photo was taken shortly after dawn this morning as we headed east through central South Dakota, the sun a tiny orange disk burning through the weight of distant wildfire smoke still hanging heavy in the sky.

But wait.

How is it that a delayed sleep phaser such as myself is on the road bright and early, when every ounce of my biology should be demanding that I sleep?

The answer to that question is perhaps the most amazing key to success for the Streicher Family Road Trip:

While I am an extreme night owl, my husband is a total lark.

Long ago, we perfected a system in which he gets up at the crack of some unholy predawn hour. He finalizes our route, arranges our maps, fills water jugs, and takes the dog out for a top o? The mornin? Stroll. Twenty minutes before he wants to leave, he calls me and my owl-leaning daughters out of our slumbers.

Just barely.

We don?T actually wake up. With eyes mostly closed, we toss on our clothes, do a bare minimum of personal grooming, zip our suitcases, and then sleepwalk out through the brisk Western morning air to the car. A pleasing array of pillows and blankets are waiting for us, and we snuggle in and drift back off to sleep.

My husband always, always drives the first shift.

Once I?Ve properly napped and tucked into a mid-morning breakfast, I?M ready to actually wake up. I take over the wheel around 10:30 or 11 a.M., a much more manageable time for me, and we roll on.

By mid-afternoon, the situation reverses. My husband finishes his post-lunch shift, slides to the passenger seat and zones out. I?M usually responsible for bringing us into the barn, and on the occasions when our schedule pushes us into driving after dark, there?S a 100% chance I?Ll be driving.

Thus from our two extreme sleeping preferences comes an ideal and mile-maximizing road-tripping dream team.

And that, quite literally, is how we roll.

Saturday, July 18, 2020

News Trend Destination: Family|Actual

Though there?S much to be said for an ambling circular ramble around the countryside, every Streicher Family Road Trip has a defined goal.

And ninety-nine times out of one hundred, the goal is family.

We are West Coast transplants; the rest of our extended families live east of the Mississippi; most of them in Michigan and Ohio.

And now even our second-born lives in Ohio.

So after our four-day 2400-mile road trip across the country, we pulled up, hopped out, and walked into our loved? Ones? Open arms.

^ Gracie knows how to work the pillows on my daughter?S couch to make herself feel right at home.

Specifically, our visits involved:

Hanging curtains, potting plants, and building furniture for my daughter?S apartment.

Browsing bougie plant stores.

Adoring Gracie as she flounced around every house she entered as if she were the queen of each castle. .

Marveling at my brother-in-law?S best-ever grilled flank steak.

Taking Gracie for dips in the neighborhood duck pond

And yes, watching with delight as my little grand-niece made friends with my big furry dog.

These are the moments for which we traveled all those miles across the country. And every single inch was worth it.

News Trend Welcome To Stump|Actual

Talk about gentrification. This gorgeous sleek store is literally surrounded by buildings slated for demolition. You do you, Stump, and let the neighborhood do whatever the heck it?S doing.

Ok, let me be honest. I love a bougie plant store more than I can say.

And even though we found plenty of healthy beautiful specimens at the local big box stores, my daughter suggested we check out a gorgeous and wildly aesthetic curated plant store called Stump.

And I fell madly in love.

Even as we crossed the street, wondering how our destination could possible be found in this ratty little heap of broken-down buildings, our eyes slowly tuned into the front windows of one that was filled with glossy, rich foliage. Inside, we noted the artisan crafted pots and legitimate, um, stumps upon which the plants posed.

And let me tell you right now, we were smitten.

The interior of the shop screamed quirky cool from every corner.

A black leather Chrsterfield couch lounging among the leaves.

Live edge floating wooden  shelves adorning the walls, overflowing with sparkling specimens in less-is-more pots

Clear glass cylinders hung here and there, showcasing air plants on crushed sandstone or leaves resting in crystal water.

Honestly, I was overwhelmed. Too awestruck to even point and click my camera.

Then I walked out on the back deck.

I ogled

I gaped.

I turned in giddy circles and snapped photos of everything in sight.

And I decided that surely this Stump store must be the cutest plant boutique ever

* * * * *

Not that I was exactly proven wrong, but a few days later, I was pleasantly surprised to find my conclusion challenged.

There are two Stump stores in Columbus

I had visited the one in Italian Village

There is another store  in German Village

(And a third in Philadelphia. But that one is off my grid for the time being.)

Needless to say, it wasn?T long before we headed to German Village to check out this second Stump.

I hope you will not be shocked to hear it was an equally gorgeous experience.

Just look. I have no words.

Again, my camera roll failed to capture the essence of this magical place.

All I can say is, if you ever find yourself in Columbus (or apparently Philadelphia), check out the beauty that is Stump.

And I will say, you?Re welcome.

News Trend Cleveland Beer and Coffee|Actual

We were making plans for our last day in Cleveland when I had a big idea, “Can we do something Cleveland-y?”

For all the times I’ve visited my family in the area, there have been precious few outings around town. Mostly my time here has been spent in my mother-in-law’s kitchen, chatting on backyard patios, and hanging out at the pool. Finally we parents had some time to ourselves.

So my brother- and sister-in-law put their heads together and came up with a great plan.

^ First stop: Edgewater Park

This gorgeous crescent of shady grass and sandy beach swoops along the shoreline of Lake Erie just west of downtown Cleveland. The script letters have been positioned just so for a perfect capture of the skyline and the effect is irresistible. We called some strangers over to work the cameras and rocked our best Cleveland pose.

^ Second stop: West Side Market

Tucked up close to -you guessed it- the west side of the city stands this gem of a farmers’ market. Offering fruits, veggies, meats, cheeses, baked goods, pastries, candies and who knows what all else, the market has been a center of deliciousness since 1840.

I was overwhelmed by the incredible magnitude of food options - my husband picked out a vendor and suggested we buy some of his beef jerky. “You pick the flavor,” he said. There were at least a dozen.

So I calmed myself by taking photos of the pleasingly symmetrical and sedately ornate ceiling.

^Third stop: Great Lakes Brewing Company

Near the market, in the quickly gentrifying Ohio City neighborhood, we stopped for a bite to eat. Despite the 90 degree temperatures and 90 percent humidity, our outdoor table was cool and breezy and a perfect place for a Midwest lunch.

^ My salmon BLT was delicious and a lot to eat on such a hot day. I savored every single bite anyway.

^ And this little princess sat quietly between our chairs as we ate, relaxing in her little puddle of shade and watching the people passing by just inches from her resting place.

Our wait staff served Gracie a bowl of fresh cool water...in an upside down red plastic Cleveland Indians batting helmet. How cute was that.

^ The flower baskets near our table were absolutely exploding with lush summer color.

^ As we reluctantly left our comfortable seats and headed back into the glaring sun, my sister-in-law found this sign and quickly claimed the quote as our new family motto.

And while I don’t really drink much beer or coffee, I love our new mottto. Because I am definitely all about good ideas and getting them done.

Friday, July 17, 2020

News Trend Blackberry Adventures|Actual

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we are enjoying the height of wild blackberry seasons. Along any sunny strip of untended earth shoot cascades of prickly, thick-leaved vines. All summer long, the tiny clumps of berries have been ripening, first tiny and green then slowly softening red and eventually rich and decadent deep purpley-black.

It's quite a common sight to see people pausing along the walkways to pick and devour these wild tidbits, eating them as fast as they can pick them. And some forward thinkers even bring along a container to pick enough to take home.

My fourth-born and I occasionally fall into this latter category. The other day, we headed off to the most remote part of my daily walking route, along an unkempt section of forest behind a building I think of as my secret place. There the berries were flourishing and with Gracie tied off on her long leash where she could conduct a leisurely inspection of her favorite squirrel-hunting grounds, we set to work.

Picking blackberries is not for the faint of heart. In order to actually get your hands round a clump of ripe berries, one must navigate safely past the long thorny tentacles that grow out onto the sunny ground. Other vines arc down from the top of the plant; together, these unproductive obstacles slash and snag at shoe laces and sweatshirt hoods and heaven forbid, bare skin. Spiders spin their webs here and there among the vines, and an unaware outstretched hand can just as easily grab at an innocent arachnid as a cluster of fruit.

But the best berries are always worth the effort, and in the late afternoon sunshine, we stretched and stooped, twisted and turned in pursuit of the ripest and juiciest morsels.

* * * * *

After a steady half-hour of picking, my daughter and I snapped the lids on our full containers, exhaled with satisfaction and relief, then turned to head towards home.

And at that instant, an unholy racket rent the skies.

A screech.

A scream.

A rasping riot of noise.

We stopped dead in our tracks.

As a wave of fear rippled over me from head to toe, my daughter said, "It's an owl."

Yes.

Several times during my twilight walks, I've seen owls soar through the darkening skies right in this little patch of woods. The experience has moved me deeply.

But seeing an owl fly silently overhead and hearing one at close range are two very different things.

In this same split second, I saw a flutter of grey through the trees. The owl was no more than ten feet away, flitting from one perch to the next around the perimeter of a small pond that lay just beyond our blackberry brambles.

We stood frozen in place, waiting for whatever might happen next.

All was quiet and still.

And so we continued toward home.

* * * * *

2 C flour

dua/tiga C shortening

A few tablespoons of cold water.

Use a pastry cutter to blend the shortening into the flour, then add the water and lightly mix together with your fingers until the dough holds together.

Flip the ball out onto the counter or a floured breadboard, and gently roll out to a circle larger than your pie plate.

Delicately fold in half, and then half again. Pick up the resulting triangle and lay in one corner of the pie plate.

Gently unfold the pastry and voila! Your pie has been born.

My daughter baked us a pie full of the blackberries we had picked, and when I took my first bite, I was reminded of all we went through.

I saw the clusters of berries hanging tantalizingly just out of reach.

I smelled the earthy late summer smells of the forest, leaves beginning to drop and decay.

I felt the thorny vines snagging my skin.

I heard that wild owl screeching down at us.

I tasted the sweet tang of the berries, bursting with summer sun.

And I savored every delicious bite of our blackberry adventures.

* * * * *

Here are a few other stories about my adventures in the woods

Camping: It's All About The Memories

My Secret Place

The Woods

Adventures In The Woods

Wilderness Adventure: Part 1

I Heart My Secret Place

News Trend Adventures At The Pond|Actual

My husband?S youngest sister has lived in the same lovely Cleveland-area suburban neighborhood for twenty years now. We?Ve visited many times and strolled often along the sidewalks and around the community pool.

But it was only this past weekend that the thought dawned on me to walk my dog over to the neighborhood pond.

Gracie quickly went all in with my idea. As usual, when she is presented with any body of water larger than, well, her body, she rushed right in, lay down in the shallows and began lapping up the water with gusto.

She doesn?T really care to swim per se, but boy, does Gracie love to lie in water and lap.

Now this particular pond is well populated with ducks and Canada geese. For the most part, the water fowl kept their distance from us. Each day, they waddled out from under their shade tree as Gracie happily approached, and paddled off to the far side of the pond.

But on one of the days we visited, a small contingent of female ducks organized a counterattack. Almost in military formation, they pursued my amiable redhead, quacking their indignation and clearly attempting to scare her off their turf.

You can see the effect of their intimidation campaign on Gracie.

Ha.

Because there is nothing - not even a fleet of angry mama ducks -  that is going to ruin my dog’s happy adventures at the pond.