Entries from May 2013
-
Queen Bee
“She’s a working cat,” I tell visitors when they ask about the brownish black furball lounging on the front mat. “She has to stay outside.” But beyond that, no rules apply to Queen Bee. The outdoors is her realm, and she does what she wants. Her job is to protect the property from rodents, which never feels like work to her, and when she’s off duty, she’s parked in the middle of the front mat awaiting her due affection. Most people coming and going stoop to give her a few strokes, but some sit right down on the courtyard cobblestones and dote on her. One day, a man backing out the front door with a wine-laden handcart nearly stepped on her, and she darted out from under his heel and gave him an indignant glare. The man laughed and said, “I see why she got her name.”
-
Staring
The first thing visitors do here is stare. They get out of their cars, walk straight to the edge of the patio or the nearest window, and just stare. I do it, too, every day. The view is mesmerizing. A recent guest described it as “exquisite and never-ending.” The view never gets old because the landscape is always changing – the colors shifting with the light from neon green to dusky blue, the vineyard rows growing thicker each day with leaves, the mountains disappearing and reappearing as the clouds roll in and out with the whims of May. Sometimes thin fingers of fog curl over the hilltops or a grey sheet of rain walks across the distant valley floor, but that’s less frequent these days. More often now we feel warm breezes smelling like soil and cut meadow grass and watch hawks hover over the vineyards. I’m lucky – I get to spend almost every day here, studying the perfect curve of Prince Hill and the slow progression of spring up the western slopes of Mt. Hood. It can be rare in our busy lives that we get time and space to simply stare at something beautiful, but at the Black Walnut, it’s a daily routine.
-
The Best Commute Ever
Most people aren't excited about driving to work, but because I work at the Black Walnut, my morning commute is one of the best parts of my day. I drive up Worden Hill Road from Dundee, and as I climb up out of town, Mt. Hood peeks into my rear view mirror. I drive past the tasting rooms and rolling vineyards, past the bright orange poppies on the roadside, and past the occasional brave soul out for a morning stroll on the narrow road. The road rushes down the hills and gathers in the woods, where I turn onto the Inn’s driveway, downshift, and begin the steep climb up the one-lane drive through the forest, my engine churning in second gear. Sometimes I swing around a turn and have to stop for wide-eyed and startled deer. As I finally climb up out of the woods and crest the hill, I see the Inn, ivy-clad and rosy in the early light. It crowns the hill, overlooking the vineyards and valley, Mt. Hood, and the snowy tip of Mt. Jefferson peeking out over the blue Cascades. If there was a contest for best commute, I'd win.