The Bridge Of Which I Speak Let me first say, that if you click on the title of this post you will be treated to a panoramic view as if you were standing on my very bridge. From there you can go to lots of places on the coast and see what I see everyday. You might find it a little fun.

In my previous post I perhaps led people to believe that the charming bridge picture in my most recent post "my secret place" was my namesake, actually my namesake is this bridge below. This photo was taken during the construction in 1927.



If you look to the top of the bridge and to the left you'll see an old building. That building is still there and houses a famous restaurant called the "Spouting Horn." Below is the bridge on a beautiful day welcoming a charter fishing boat, The Kingfisher. Please excuse the post card image as that's all I could find for now.



Below is a view of the same bridge looking from the harbor side. I'm much more partial to the harbor side of things as I prefer calm waters to the turbulent waves that crash constantly.



This town and bridge were named after William Charles Depoe an Indian Tribal Chief and Judge.



If you click here you can get a small history of the Siletz Indians who are made up of over 20 original bands. They suffered their own Trail of Tears, thanks again to the United States Government and their Treaties. Also reading Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee gives you a lot of background on the government policies when dealing with Indian Nations. Basically we suck at keeping promises. To put it mildly.


Above picture is Boiler Bay

But that is not what this post is about. I did want to cover a little history though, as history is what makes a place very interesting. Depoe Bay sits between what is known as Boiler Bay, which got it's name from a very large boiler, all that remains of a Schooner called "J. Morhoffer." Apparently the ship caught fire and sank in this small inlet in 1910. If we have an exceptionally low tide you might be able to catch a glimpse of it. To the north is what is lovingly called "Cape Foulweather." Captain James Cook named this spot in 1778 for obvious reasons, but this is where he first glanced American soil. It's been rumored for centuries that there is pirate treasure somewhere in the cliffs along the coast between Boiler Bay and Cape Foulweather. For us locals it means going from sea level to 1099" elevation in 2 miles. In the winter that means going from rain to snow. On the other side of Cape Foulweather is where I do all of my meanderings and errands. When ever I drive over the Cape it reminds me of taking off in a small plane. You see the waves slowly give way to the trees, as if your standing in the middle of a forest, then you tower over those very trees and where, if you wish you can go to the look out post. Then you start your decline where you will be subject to the constant road improvement as this stretch of road is famous for flooding out and sinking into the nether regions. The last time the road sunk people were pointed to a detour that involved three hours of driving as you had to go to the valley before you could come back to the coast.

If you have ever seen the movie Sometimes a Great Notion you will see the area in which I live. The great white house the family lived in sits on the Siltez River and the picnic they have at the beach is Fogarty Creek, which I believe I've written about. This is where my husband takes the dogs after work everyday.

Every year Depoe Bay has a Salmon Bake, I have yet to go to one but here is a lovely picture to show you what it looks like.



Fresh Salmon and Fresh Halibut are my favorite foods, unfortunately they are also very expensive. But if you ever get a chance to try it, by all means try it. I just love them both cooked in butter with salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon. Yumm. Now don't mistake farmed salmon for the original as they truly have a different flavor. Also there is a big difference between Atlantic and Pacific Salmon. Choose Pacific if you can.

I think for now I've covered enough information. I will probably add to this at a later date but I have much to do and just wanted to share with you the Bridge of Which I Speak.  ¶ 4/22/2005 08:15:00 AM 6 comments

  My Secret Place


This beautiful picture is taken at "my secret place". I'm not telling anybody where this is, some of you might have guessed and some of you might have gone there with me. I love it here and so do my dogs. And please park lovers don't get mad at me, I do carry my little doggie doo doo bags! My neighbor who used to be the harbor master is now the Park Maintenance Man so I know HE really appreciates it!

But isn't this just lovely. Of course I'd love to ruin this picture by putting a little house out there by the bridge. Cut off all contact from the outside world and just live happily there with my dogs. But I'm sure that's not going to happen so rest assured.

Thanks Cliff for checking on me. I do appreciate that. I've been awfully busy getting by. But I just wanted everyone to know I'm still here and still reading blogs. I'll write more, but I think my dogs have a hankering to go to this secret place and are driving me nuts in the process!  ¶ 4/19/2005 10:36:00 AM 3 comments

  Imagine ~ Knowledge is limited; but imagination encircles the world ~
Albert Einstein
German-American physicist, Nobel Prize for Physics in 1921, 1879-1955  ¶ 4/12/2005 07:36:00 AM 6 comments

  Lightly Fanciful

  ¶ 4/09/2005 06:52:00 AM 9 comments

  Some other things A couple of days ago Jessie, one of my daughters calls me on the phone. "Mom!! you're selling that vase Grama gave me!". Yes I had to confess I was selling it on ebay. She was very upset with me about that. We talked awhile about all the crap I have around here, and if you want all the stuff that grama gave you you've got to come and get it. I'm not kidding when I say I have lots of stuff around here that does not belong to me. Sometimes I can't keep track of whose is whose. That spelling doesn't look right, but anyway, in an earlier post I wrote about my storage rental that's also full of everybody else's stuff too.

The reason I'm writing this is because, I had to laugh when I told Jessie, that I most certainly take after my mother in the fact that I sell things that I've given to my children, or what they're grandmother gave them as is the case here. Alot of times in the past when my mother lacked for funds, she would pluck something out of her antique store and give them as presents for birthdays, Christmas, whatever. Months might pass before she would be back searching for such items.

Now this is very comical, we always had a good laugh about this. Say she was over after dinner, and we'd be doing the dishes and she'd come across something in the cupboard she'd say, "Pamela, this is so pretty! Where did you get it?". "Mom", I'd say, "you gave that to me for my birthday!". Next thing you know it's sitting down there in her store again! There were never any hard feelings involved in this, it was just understood ya know, that these were things that had no sentimental value, they were just things. She would always give you something else much better down the road.

So I told Jessie, I couldn't take it off the auction, I just couldn't. I told her she would have to bid on it. So she is. So who ever reads this, do not bid on that purple vase, if you do and if you win, Jessie and I will be very mad and we'll have to come to your house and take it back! And if I get there first, well it's going back on the auction block.

Let me say this one more time to all my children out there: If you want your stuff, you must come and get it.  ¶ 4/03/2005 09:57:00 AM 2 comments

  My Mother My Hero Strong title for sure. Having just replied to a comment Cliff left I felt some memories flood my brain. My mother. As a child I worshipped the ground she walked on. She was my knight in shining white armor. She was a nurse. Remember the days when nurses wore their stiffly starched white uniforms? Their crisply pressed absolutely shocking white caps? The white tights, and white nurses shoes? That's how I think of my mother often.



My mother had a very traumatic childhood which left her scarred and broken most of her life. As a single mother of three, most of her adult years she struggled not only to survive financially but emotionally as well. She was on the run and in hiding from the man who was our father. The man who did not want to pay child support, who wanted to gain custody of us so that he might put us up for adoption. This is the man who committed her to an asylum before she had me, and was sickly proud of the fact, that I was conceived in such a place. I was witness to many breakdowns, many weeks when she would not leave her room. We went through alcoholic episodes and violent meltdowns together. She suffered through bipolar episodes and clinical depression her whole life. All this said is not an attempt to degrade her or diminish her in anyone's eyes but to form a foundation from which she rose.

Some of my happiest memories are with my mother. Gardening out in the yard. Sharing the Sunday morning paper. She loved learning. I read the comics. My mother had strong opinions about everything. She could hold her own in any intellectual conversation taking place and new what was going on just about anywhere in the world. She helped me appreciate the flowers blooming, the smell of honeysuckle and citrus blossoms. She helped me understand that books held the world in between their covers and anyone no matter how poor could escape to exciting places at the opening of a book.

My mother did not like children's books, so when my babies were little she read them National Geographic, she didn't think you could ever spoil a baby, so she carried mine on her hips to keep them from crying.

When I was little she sewed not so much because she liked to, but because it was the only way she could put us in clothes. I had some of the most beautiful Pollyanna dresses you could find back then. I remember when she made my sisters homecoming dress, there were yards and yards of white satin flowing under her little singer featherweight sewing machine. I still have it by the way. When my babies were born, she sewed them their total wardrobes. Their tiny sacked flannel sleepwear. Their blankies and dresses.


She could cook like nobody's business. On special occasions we were presented with extraordinary roast beef dinners with Yorkshire pudding. Mexican dishes, Desserts to curb anyone's diet and the many ways to create pasta and potatoes.

When I turned 18 and fled the confines of my youth, my mother took this as a time to branch out. She traveled to Egypt, Rome and Mexico. She rode camels and took up parasailing. All the while still dealing with her bipolar and depression episodes.



Though our travels together were very rocky, full of emotional outbursts on both sides, we still held a very tight and somewhat twisted bond and I knew her love for me was strong.

My mother was as the song goes, "The wind beneath my wings". She was always encouraging, always up front, honest and forthright with me. She wasn't always on my side, but she helped me to realize I wasn't always right either. She was a great defender of childhood, she was the fiercest mother lion if anyone crossed or threatened her family. She always marveled at my children, how smart and incredible they were. She never once compared one to the other. She encouraged their individuality and was proud of them no matter what they wore or how they did their hair. Each child a crowning achievement in their own right.

I know I could go on and on, and I probably will somewhere down the road, but I think for now that says enough.  ¶ 4/02/2005 09:50:00 AM 3 comments

  Crowded

This is a doodle I did for Illustration Friday's, something I found out about from Aravis' blog. I sketched this while waiting for my computer to scan for bugs or virus' or whatever. Nightmare!!! My computer is so slow, the pop ups are asaulting me constantly! I hate it. Anyway the assignment was for "Crowded" I think this works don't you? My kitchen is so small, "how small is it?" , well it's so small you can walk into it to get a glass of water and it looks like this when you walk out. That's how small it is. Remember those brownies we learned about in Girl Scouts? Where did they all move to?  ¶ 4/01/2005 10:21:00 AM 4 comments