A Slower Life

 

We have lived in our current house for 11 years now, on almost 10 acres of creek front in a forested canyon. The longest amount of time spent in any one house outside my childhood home, and for my military husband the longest he has been in one house, ever. This place has not just become a house or a place to stop along our journey, this has become home.

 

When my husband received his military notification of being transferred to Eastern Oregon, I was devastated at the thought of leaving the temperate, water drenched lifestyle of the urban Pacific Northwest. I thought I had everything I could want there. Great growing season, a nice quirky house, and a vibrant community who embraced passion and diversity. I was happy, almost, but we seemed to be missing something important. The speed of our daily lives showed no signs of slowing down, we were constantly busy, traffic had become unbearable and my husband’s commute became longer and longer. We hoped that a small town would give us a slower and more connected life with each other and our 4 children.

So in one weekend, we changed our lives, we jumped in our car and drove the 5 hours to our new home. As we crossed the dry dustiness of north-central Oregon and left my beloved Columbia River behind I was nervous and unsettled. Where was this place without any trees, and why was there a sign stating 40 miles of blowing dust?

 

As we approached a mountain pass (disturbingly called Deadman Pass) just past Pendleton, Oregon (At least I knew where Pendleton was, didn’t they make trendy wool blankets?) trees suddenly appeared and the world grew green again and I am pretty sure we both sighed in relief. Just for clarification, I have driven across the state several times before that moment, but it is a very different experience when you are going to make that said place your new home. When driving through, 40 miles of blowing dust and ominous road signs are just part of the scenery.

We had found a charming 1930s house with enough character to appease my Portland eye and close to the schools and the lively little downtown. I was in awe of this place we now called home, there was so much openness. On the west side of the state, the endless moisture and mild temperatures caused everything to grow lush and close, you were always cradled by trees and vegetation. When you drove down a street or highway the trees pressed close and visibility was about 5 feet. In this new place, the space between the trees was visible and beckoned you to look closer, to explore a little deeper. The town magically ended because a mountain was there, all of sudden there were no more houses or roads. Drive to the opposite side of town and you end up on gravel roads and in farmers fields, an endless palette of growing things. No sprawl, no traffic, no congestion, and clutter. Just space, space to breathe, and space to grow.

With all this space and openness I wanted a piece of that too, (turns out I’m a bit greedy) I would look outside my cute bungalow window, set in a pretty little town and knew I could have more. After a year of looking for the right place for the right price my hopes paid off and we found a fixer-upper on almost ten acres with a barn, yes you heard me right, a freaking barn!!!!!! Well needless to say I have spent the last 11 years filling that barn!