Southern Oregon

The Last Colors of Fall… At Home in Southern Oregon

/ Curt Mekemson / 16 Comments
View from Curtis and Peggy Mekemson's patio in southern Oregon.

A view from the patio. Our white oaks provide a dash of golden orange to set off the green forests and blue mountains.

Several years ago Peggy and I were in the middle of a year off when we were treated to most of what America has to offer in fall’s brilliant display of leaves changing color. We began our adventure in late August. Our trip had taken us into Alaska and the weather was changing. The geese were getting restless, preparing for their journey south. We decided to migrate as well. Since our next scheduled stop was in Florida for Thanksgiving, we had three months to wander.

Our route took us down through the Yukon Territory and into British Columbia’s impressive national parks of Jasper and Banff in the northern Rockies. We then made our way east through Alberta and Saskatchewan, dropped down into North Dakota, and then traveled through Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York. We arrived in the New England states of Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine at the height of leaf peeping season. We then journeyed south through the Mid-Atlantic States into the Blue Ridge Mountains. The trees were spectacular the whole way. We were following fall, so to speak.

Photo by Curtis mekemson

Fall in the Rockies. I took this photo on the western side of the mountains in Colorado.

Fall photp of Blue Ridge Highway by Curtis Mekemson.

Fall along the Blue Ridge Highway.

Fall photo of Blue Ridge Mountains by Curtis Mekemson.

Fall view looking out on Blue Ridge Mountains.

Our rather mild weather in Southern Oregon doesn’t produce the magnificent colors of New England, but we get a decent showing. I kept promising myself I would get out and take photos but writing and procrastination interfered. When I finally managed to be out and about with my camera, there were more leaves on the ground than in the trees. I was left with the last colors of fall, but they were still impressive.

Southern oregon fall photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Trails snaking through our five acres are named after our grandsons. Connor’s Cutoff, hidden under leaves, does a good job of capturing fall colors.

Southern Oregon fall photo by Curtis Mekemson.

This photo follows our road down the hill and past the white oaks.

Oregon Maple photo by Curtis Mekemson.

An Oregon Maple adds a touch of yellow to our yard.

Photo of Oregon Maple by Curtis Mekemson.

A close up of the Oregon Maple. I like the contrast provided by the dark limbs.

These red berries decorated a neighbors yard. As I recall from my youth in California, we called them California Holly.

These red berries decorated a neighbor’s yard. As I recall from my youth in California, we called them California Holly.

Photo along Upper Applegate Road in Southern Oregon by Curtis Mekemson.

Our drive into the town of Jacksonville, Oregon provided more fall views.

Photo of fall view on Upper Applegate Road in Southern Oregon by Curtis Mekemson.

Another view along Upper Applegate Road on our way into Jacksonville.

Fall photo of the Applegate River by Curtis Mekemson.

Our property fronts on the beautiful Applegate River. I took this photo on one of the bridges across the river on Upper Applegate Road.

NEXT BLOG: We will visit one of America’s premier parks (where I happen to be as I type this), Pt. Reyes National Seashore, north of San Francisco, California.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When A Deer Looks In Your Window…

/ Curt Mekemson / 12 Comments
Oregon Black Tail Deer

I was working on my blog when this deer appeared at my window, five feet away. 

I was working on my blog about the Archeological Museum of Naples this morning when I looked up and saw a black tail deer staring in the window. She was about five feet away. I think she wanted to know what I was doing inside on a beautiful spring day.

Fortunately I had my camera next to me so I snapped her picture. Soon after she and two of her companions had bedded down in our back yard and were sniffing the daffodils.

Deer proof daffodil

A friend had given us daffodil bulbs and promised the deer wouldn’t eat them. So far, so good.

I decided she was right. What was I doing inside on a beautiful spring day? So I shut down my MacBook, grabbed my camera and went for a walk. The Archeological Museum could wait another day. I decided to blog about our home here in Southern Oregon.

Our front yard this morning on a beautiful spring day.

Our front yard this morning on a beautiful spring day.

Our back yard this morning.

Our backyard this morning.

We live about 30 miles west of Medford and five miles north of the California border, out in the woods, so to speak.  The Red Buttes of the Siskiyou Mountain Range and the beautiful Applegate River are out front. Our property borders on close to a million acres of national forest land and wilderness in back.

Red Buttes of Siskiyou Mountains on Southern Oregon border.

The view of the Red Buttes from our patio and front room. They are still snow-covered.

Applegate River

The beautiful Applegate River flows through our front yard. This is a fall picture.

Our elevation is 2000 feet, just high enough for three or four snowstorms that always manage to melt off in a day or two. Our five acres are totally wooded and include Ponderosa Pines, White Oaks, Red Cedars, Madrone, and Douglas Fir. A small spring provides water for the wildlife in summer.

Deer, fox, skunks and a multitude of squirrels consider our property home. An occasional bear drops by and my neighbors tell me that a cougar comes down off the mountain on occasion. A couple of months ago a coyote checked us out.

Yesterday we watched a Red Tailed Hawk pick up a small ground squirrel. (Peggy squealed so loud in delight, the hawk dropped the squirrel.) Last fall I watched a Golden Eagle grab a snake in our front yard.  A pair of Bald Eagles nest near by and a large Pileated Woodpecker makes the forest ring with his pounding. Numerous species of birds either live here year around or migrate through in the spring and fall.

If I seem to be in love with the area, I am. Peggy and I moved here two years ago after wrapping up a three-year exploration of North America in a 22-foot RV. I don’t think we’ll be moving again. (grin) Here are some more photos taken at various times of the year.

A large Douglas Fir covered with a fresh coating of snow lives in our front yard.

A large Douglas Fir covered with a fresh coating of snow lives in our front yard.

Southern Oregon Forest

Another view of the Oregon forest from our bedroom.

One of the bucks that considers our property part of his territory.

One of the bucks that considers our property part of his territory. This is a fall photo.

Interesting clouds over Red Buttes

Sunset over the Red Buttes.

NEXT BLOG: Back to Naples and the Archeological Museum (Unless it is too nice outside.)

 

 

 

At Home in the Woods of Southern Oregon

/ Curt Mekemson / 7 Comments

 

This view from our patio features the first snow of the year. You are looking south at the Red Buttes, which are part of the Siskiyou Mountains that form the border between California and Oregon.

Two years ago Peggy and I decided to ‘settle down’ in Southern Oregon after travelling around North America for three years in our small RV. It was a good decision. We ended up purchasing five acres of property. The beautiful Applegate River flows in front of our house. Our back property line is the gateway to over a million acres of National Forest land.

The Applegate River, in front of our property, displays fall colors.

Walking out the back door and up our road leads to over a million acres of National Forest Land.

This graceful Madrone with its strange, pealing bark, provides shade for our home. It is one of numerous trees on our property. Other trees include Douglas Fir, Ponderosa Pine, White Oak and Red Cedar.

Morning mist outlines one of the Douglas Firs.

The same Douglas Fir, this time set off by the evening sky.

Peggy loves rivers and I love wilderness. It is a perfect match. Every morning we wake up with smiles on our faces.

Deer, bear, squirrels, foxes and numerous species of birds consider our property as part of their territory or at least a convenient stop off place. Last year a bear tipped over our bar-b-que. A couple of weeks ago a skunk let go under our house. This summer Peggy waged an unceasing war against ground squirrels that discovered her garden.

It all comes with country living. Mainly, we are amused by the antics of our furred and feathered friends.

Which way is the garden?

Is it here on your back porch? ( Junior has a better idea about where to find food.)

Surely you can’t resist feeding me? “Our” deer herd has trails running all over the property. Every day we get to see bucks, does, fawns and teenagers go about their lives.

At 2000 feet, we don’t get much snow… just enough to create a beautiful white wonderland. The deer, BTW, are Black Tail Deer. (Note the far deer.)

I used a Have-a-Heart trap to catch the ground squirrels and founded a new colony down the road and across the river on BLM land. The little buggers always went for the zucchini bait. I told them Peggy would be much less merciful. She was starting to practice with her pellet pistol.

We have been enjoying a beautiful fall and feel a slight tinge of regret that we are leaving to travel. I suspect the cruise of the Mediterranean with its extensive stop offs will make up for any regrets. Peggy and I do love to wander.

Gorgeous fall colors keep me running outside with my camera. I am admiring this beautiful Oregon Maple out the window as I type this post.

Another view from my writing chair. With fall arriving and temperatures dropping to freezing, this Geranium is one of Peggy’s last flowers of the season.

I thought about blogging while in Europe but I want to spend my time exploring.

So I’ve decided to focus my blog, Wandering in Time and Place, on my experience as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Liberia, West Africa. The stories are already written. Every other day I will post a new one chronologically in chapter format. When I get back in two months, I intend to publish the tales both digitally and in print as a book.

In the stories you will meet Boy the Bad Dog who ends up as guest of honor at a village feast, learn how to wage war against Army Ants, attend the hot machete trial of the Woman Who Wore No Underpants, and discover why the Liberian government felt the second grade reader I wrote was a dangerous revolutionary document. And that’s only the beginning…

I hope you will join me on the adventure.

The main street of Gbarnga, Liberia in West Africa where I served as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Your Mama Was a Ground Squirrel… A Journal Entry

/ Curt Mekemson / 1 Comment

It's a random morning as I look out my window at the woods surrounding our home in Southern Oregon and am amused by the wildlife. A Steller Jay scolds me with a staccato comment. Apparently the bird feeder is running low on sunflower seeds.

I plug along, seeking a different perspective for my morning journal. CT runs by. “Your mama was a ground squirrel,” I yell after him. I am probably not being PC. He can’t help it if he has an ugly little crooked tail when all of his gray squirrel relatives have big bushy ones.

A dove lands under the madrone. She is as round as she is long. An elderly friend of mine would say, “Wow she is fat!” in a voice loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. It’s the privilege of old age, calling things as you see them. But I think the dove has fluffed her feathers out to stay warm on this 38-degree morning. Or possibly she is pregnant… very pregnant. Or she’s fat.

Random thoughts, random mind.

My computer tells me ‘random thoughts, random mind’ is not a complete sentence. There is nothing random about my computer. It lives by the rules. A fragment is a fragment is a fragment. I tell the software to get lost. I will write what I want. It’s a random morning and I am feeling like Jack Kerouac. Let the thoughts flow where they will.

But still I write in sentences with punctuation and paragraphs with themes. I can’t escape the discipline of writing. But I can play. We are far too serious in this world. We would rather bump each other off than laugh at our foolishness, which makes us all fools but not fool enough.

Whoa, where did that come from? “Gibberish,” you say, and gibberish it is but those are the rules of random. I write sentences but they don’t have to make sense. Or do they?

A Steller Jay interrupts my thoughts with his staccato complaints. Apparently the bird feeder is running low on sunflower seeds. It’s back to the basics.

Two tom turkeys come by, fluff out their feathers, and do the Turkey Two Step. It’s a fan dance. They have a harem of hens to convince of their masculinity. “Take me, baby!” But first they have to convince each other. It’s a dance as old as time.

Are these two tom turkeys putting on a show for their lady loves? Or is it each other?

And what is the hornless buck doing licking his nose with his bright pink tongue. “Ah,” I think to myself, “He is going after a bit of breakfast that has escaped his mouth.” I can identify. I stuck out my tongue frog-like this morning to capture a piece of scone that was charging down my sweatshirt. “Escapee!” my mind screamed.

Lip smacking good. The pink tongue says it all on this buck who is just starting to grow a new set of horns.

And thus my daily journal goes this third day of April in 2012 as I write from my home in the woods of Southern Oregon. I’ve been filling pages with the minutia of my life for 12 years now. It’s how I kick off my day, an old friend, as comfortable as the chair I sit in. I write for me. Occasionally I’ll share.