Saturday, June 11
The photos in today’s post show scenes the crew and I encountered as we strolled the streets of Green Valley in the early evening. Green Valley is between The Dalles and Bend, Oregon, east of the Cascades.
“How ’bout a walk around town, punkins?”
Bridget, Reggie, and I set out from our campsite at Green Valley RV Park. It’s about 7 p.m. on a Saturday and the town is very quiet.
Along the main street, which is Route 97, the sidewalks are almost empty. Very old buildings sit vacant.
This plant with purple-flowers (photo below) reaches out from a crack in the foundation, as if to say . . .
I pinch a sprig and smell mint. (Readers tell me the plant is Russian sage. I thought it smelled like mint. Oh, well!)
Reggie sprays some liquid fertilizer and we continue on our way.
The grocery store is closed.
Not because it’s late Saturday. Because it’s shut down.
I dumped most of my refrigerated groceries due to the electrical problem. Finding the only grocery store for many miles has been shut down is a disappointment. For many of the residents of Grass Valley, however, it’s more than a temporary inconvenience.
“Where do people get groceries around here?”
“Well, the store in town closed recently,” he remarks sadly. “You can go up to Wasco (about 18 miles to the north). They don’t have meat though, just hot dogs and that kind of stuff.”
Oh my, living here without a car . . . a hundred miles round trip by bus, toting groceries on the return. There’s a trade-off for quiet, rural living.
We stop while I admire the house across the street with its charming porch and flowers.
The house in the photo above is located right along the sidewalk on the main street which is Route 97, an important north-south corridor from California to Washington, second only to Interstate 5.
The flowers between sidewalk and porch nod and sway as RVs, semi-trucks, and other vehicles pass by, their drivers too intent on destinations to absorb the gentle cheer offered by the colorful blooms.
I wonder how Roadhouse 97 is doing for business these days . . . .
Standing on tiptoes, I peer through a window.
The church has been stripped of its pews. The spirit of a congregation remains. I imagine I hear singing and recall an old hymn . . . . “Standing on the promises of Christ my King, Through eternal ages let His praises ring, Glory in the highest, I will shout and sing, Standing on the promises of God. ”
All those folks have moved on . . . .
Reggie commences to bark.
“Oh, wow… That’s a big, scary horse, Reg!”
“Uh-oh, Reggie. Now there are TWO horses! We’d better retreat, doncha’ think?”
Fire suppression is important for a place named Grass Valley!
One of the trucks has a compartment open. I walk over to investigate.
They’re busy cleaning up a flower bed. The woman looks up from her weeding.
“Hello!” I call out. “You have a lovely flower garden!”
“It’s not ours. It’s Grandma’s,” she replies.
“Is it okay if I take a photo of the birdhouse tree?”
“Sure, go ahead,” she responds, smiling as she dumps weeds in a wheelbarrow.
Bridget and Reggie are enjoying this leisurely stroll.
Bridget makes sure she stays out of the photos!
“That’s okay, Bridgie. I’m not going to force you . . . “
Back at the BLT, I get out the Oregon Benchmark Atlas.
Now where’s a good camp next to a town with a grocery store, a store that sells inverters, an RV repair shop . . . . Hmm . . . This might be a possibility . . . .
In the next post the crew and I move to a new camp!
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