Did you think I had retired from blogging? I feel like it's been ages since I last posted. I finally have internet service and am settled into my new place just enough to be able to get back into my blogging routine.
Moving was chaotic, to put it mildly. The packing, the figuring out what to take, what to get rid of...oh, all of it was just...well, overwhelming. But, once it was done, the movers arrived and loaded my belongings and it was time to leave. I was more than ready for this part of the move.
The drive up to the Portland area was split into two travel days. We (the Sewing Queen of northern Nevada, my oldest daughter, Moose and myself) drove basically halfway the first day, to Medford, Oregon. My daughter is working at a hospital there temporarily and so we stayed at her place there in Medford that night.
Once we arrived and got cleaned up, we took a short drive to the most charming little town of Jacksonville, Oregon, just about 10 miles or so away from Medford. Oh. My. Gosh.
What a little jewel of a town it is! Bed and Breakfast Inns, churches, Wine shops, Antique Stores, historic homes...the perfect spot for a weekend getaway. (Of course, we were only there for dinner, but I will remember this for future reference)
The neatest thing about this adorable little community was that very nearly every home or shop had some sort of charming fence around it. So much so, that I took pictures to share. Here are just a few of the fences....
Oh! And the restaurant we dined at that evening....mmmmm, such good food, (blueberry and peaches foster for desert!) in a fabulous giant old home. The yard was filled with red Adirondack chairs, and I cannot think of anything more relaxing than spending an afternoon in one of them, reading and watching the world go by.
After dinner we all headed to bed, and before daylight, the Sewing Queen, Moose and I were back on the road. I must say that the best way I can describe what it's like to drive a 26 foot UHaul truck is that it felt to me exactly the way I imagine trying to steer a runaway stage coach would be. By noon we had made our way to Camas, and I became a Washingtonian.
I still cannot quite believe I am really here. For good. Somebody pinch me.