I about skipped posting again today, then considered more colorful, unique places we have been. Still, it seemed reasonable to continue with last week’s meander. It was a satisfying outing despite variable light and chilliness. And the funeral is over for our granddaughter. Marc and I go forward a bit more each day, with the telltale heaviness of sorrow. We hiked-at a snail’s pace-over the week-end, visited at a coffee shop outside with family, played with twin toddler granddaughters at a river park. There are yet blessings noted in the midst of the wrenching away of Krystal from our family. (I suspect she’d demand no more drama or long interruptions; she was tough, frank–and vivacious, bright and adventurous. She would move on, too–and it seems as if she has. I no longer feel her slipping about at odd hours, in various places. I hope that doesn’t unnerve too much–it is a familiar experience for me when people pass on.)

But: our walks… They go a long way toward making life more orderly, inspiring, instructive and sweet. And keep the blood flowing. And keep body, mind and spirit in much better balance.

Though the Jenkins Estate buildings were closed due to the pandemic, it was pleasing to explore what we could. The main house architecture seems quintessential Pacific Northwestern, unassuming with simple lines, sturdy and well designed, a lodge-like feel to it–and blends with nature’s palette. My kind of style. It certainly would have been an impressive home and acreage in 1912. Several outbuildings were homey and well built. It is a loss that so many Dutch elms have gone, as noted below, but there are plenty of other NW trees.

We wound out way around the immediate landscapes, enjoyed rhododendrons, azaleas, and other assorted flowers here and there. There were not as many blooms as expected but spring has been fitful, and not enough rain for April/May yet–a surprise in Oregon.

From here, we mosied over to the Gate House of the estate, a lovely place. Please click to view the slideshow.

Though grief stills everything inside and out, it also leaves room for beauty that remains of our earth– and of those we have loved and lost to a far greater mystery than we comprehend.

Blessings on you all.