TOURIST IN MY OWN TOWN.

I feel fortunate that I have a friend who not only brings me brownies, but will, at the merest suggestion, drive me downtown Murphys where we pretend to be tourists. That is Jan Stewart. Always ready to seize the day.


I hadn't been to Hovey's tasting room in ages, nor had I seen this clever sign.


Inside I was pleased and surprised by the variety of craft beers they support. The public likes wine but they also like good beer.


Another sign drew us into Frog's Tooth, a wine I'd never sampled.


At 10:00 a.m. neither of us were in the mood for wine tasting, but they had a barrel full of good reds to be had for $12 a bottle.


Of course, because of Mark Twain, frogs are a prominent feature in Calaveras County, but what I liked here is the warmth and friendliness of the staff. A very inviting atmosphere.


This customer is wearing a shirt from a tasting room in  an old school-house, I believe she said in Grass Valley. It reflects the grammar school punishment of writing on the black board over and over again, I Promise Not To Hit Tommy, or some such. Cute.


Town was loaded with motorcycles, all coming for the "Jumps", as they relate to the Calaveras Fair and Frog Jumping Jubilee. Nationally famous after its small beginnings.  I remember a picture of Little Flower, Governor LaGuardia who attended the Jumps as fascination with jumping a frog spread far and wide.


Both bikers, the guy on the left hugged Jan and said,"I know you!"  He is her chimney sweep. His buddy said, "If anybody had told me I'd be a biker with multiple tattoos on my body, I'd have said yer crazy." I had to laugh to find they are locals from Murphys. Tourists just like us.


I liked this gal's leathers and took a picture and she said, "No, no. You caught me with a phone and I'm constantly pushing people I know to put their damned phone away and look up."  So, she posed for me on her bike.


Creative. Guess we can call her Spider Woman, and, by the way, she is from Murphys.


She looked askance at the big hogs lining the street and said, "If one of these guys tips his bike over, he will not be able to pick it up by himself."  We concluded they are for show and pride of ownership as well as performance.


There were some out-of-towners.


I wanted a picture of this guy's curled mustache because it reminded me of Joe Cardoza, a former neighbor and local character who grew his curled and waxed mustache about seven inches long for the local Whiskerino Contest. He had too much to drink and went for a haircut. Jack, the barber was a known prankster and cut half of his mustache off, I expect with Joe's consent. I thought it was cruel, even so.


There were street musicians.


The Murphys Hotel hired a band. The courtyard was packed with people eating, enjoying the music and even getting up to dance in the tight space around the musicians.


A couple local vets told us they placed 400 flags on veteran graves with Memorial Day coming up. They do it every year.

Among  those who served I knew Norm Tanner and a couple others. Norm was a good friend to my husband. I'll be sure to remember those close to me who were vets; I may not get to a grave, but there will be a knot in my heart has I put out the flag on my deck.

SIGNS OF HEALING FROM BUTTE FIRE.

The Resource and Recovery Center for the Butte Fire is all but closed. School children are still dropped off at the center where they can get a snack and wait for their parents to pick them up when they get off work. When we pulled in, this is what greeted us.
Two kids on the left are 5th graders, two on the right are 6th graders, enjoying some chips and dip. They told me they were building houses out of cardboard boxes.
A bit crowded to be sure. One girl held the flap open while I took the picture.
This is a two room house, they bragged.  I was impressed.
The 5th graders invited me into their house.
Roomy and cozy.
They had each made a cardboard bed with a cardboard stuffed pillow and an extra piece of cardboard for padding. Well done. I could see the signs of healing in their smiling faces.As we walked away from the kids, I saw a woman watching them and she was hanging back. I told her they were building houses. She said, “I’m so glad my son is building a house. He needs that right now.”  We both got a bit emotional. I could not have predicted how much this fire affected me from my house burning down when I was about the same age as these kids.
At the back of the Center is a tent city.
A huge truck with washing machines provides laundry. I didn’t see it yesterday, but did the day I had volunteered. A sign also announces the showers are available between 8 am to 8 pm, every day. There are portable toilets on the grounds as well. Not the way you choose to live, but a welcome necessity.
Stacks of rice straw are available to burn victims to distribute on their land to help prevent erosion during the coming rains of winter
We drove up toward Railroad Flat. Jim got a first hand look at the devastation. One property had a sign, Looters Will Be Shot. Since my son’s place was burglarized during the fire, I could understand their fears.
This picture really got to me. It was obvious at this site that the owners had gone through the wreckage and pulled things out and stacked them in painful little piles; a reminder of my folks doing the same thing. I remember searching for my rosary I’d just gotten for Christmas. My mother fascinated and tearful over a jar of change she’d been saving where coins and glass were melted together.
We were beyond Mountain Ranch and here the power lines in two or more places were still on the ground. You can see the line temporarily attached to a tree to keep it up off the road so cars could pass under. Most of the power poles themselves survived the fire. Jim was amazed that so many trees were still standing. He thought they would be flat on the ground. Of course, many standing will die and have to be removed. Trees with an X on them scheduled for removal. I only saw one large tree with an L on it for leave.  Then we visited the local VFW and quaffed a beer and washed away the imaginary ashes in our mouths.

GIRLS AND BEER.

I am very ambivalent about birthdays. I don’t celebrate my own, nor others, normally. Other people remember mine. I often don’t. But, Margo on the right, was also not celebrating her birthday, but here we are having a birthday get together for Margo. Basically just an excuse to have a girls night out. Amanda, on the left, is new in town and works at Quyle pottery. A new Brewery in town, we decided to try their beers. But, check out the glasses, Amanda’s glass is tall, Margo has a mug.


Pam and I each have a heavy “brandy” style glass?  Beats me. We ordered a taster and my favorite beer is Black Butte Porter. This brewing company doesn’t make a porter, but their stout was excellent and the rest of their beers were too. Glad we went, but, just a pass on the food. So, go for the beer.

Pam Quyle runs a pottery in Murphys that started with her parents 61 years ago. We’ve been long time friends and Pam decided we will have dinner at my house in February. She is the organizer so, now I know what kind of beer everyone likes. February it is. Maybe we’ll  not celebrate another birthday if we can find a friend born in February? I gave Margo the best card. We’re all single. On the front it reads, “I was trying to find a man for you.” On the inside it read, “But, why get something so useless.”

I know, its bad. I was the fourth recipient of that card. I scratched my name out and put in Margo’s. It’s a girl thing. It went well with the beer.

MURHYS FREE CONCERT IN THE PARK.

The first Friday of each month, the Business People/Community Club host a free concert in the park. A local caterer provides a meal to buy, or you can bring your own food and drink and just enjoy the burbling creek, a bit of sunshine, the company of your neighbors and friends and have a good time dancing or just listening to the music.  I love Murphys. Above is Glorious Gloria and Dennis Graves listening to someone who stopped by our table to visit.


Jan brought a pesto cheese bread to snack on that was super delicious. She was about to take off her sweater and go swimming in the creek, I think.


The kids love it at the creek and don't hesitate to jump in. How many towns have a creek flowing through the middle of it for all to enjoy?


And Donna, with the cutest hat.


The Reagans, I never see anymore except at events like this. It is my fault because I travel so much.


I didn't dance this time, but, when I do get home, I'm soooo glad I live in Murphys.

MY FIRST DUTY HOME.

I love being on the road. And, I had to come home, but my first duty home was to stop by my local grocery and grab a six-pack of Black Butte Porter. I was only out for a short stay but a girl's gotta have access to a decent dark, chewy, hoppy beer once in awhile.  (Jim calls it motor oil.) Even the stores where we shopped didn't have a decent craft beer I could buy.


Another thing they didn't have was an olive bar. Those little French picholines, dark green, spiced Scicilians, Greek, kalamatas,  Spanish sevillanos, luccas, manzanillos,  yummmy.

My trip home was smooth. My cameras was deep in my carry on and I didn't take pictures from the plane, but the rice fields and canals and flooded fields from the air, gave the impression there is no water shortage in California. All the lakes and reservoirs had yellow soil lines showing how low the levels are. We had never heard of a 500 year drought record until this year. Now we know what it is like. Summer in winter. Not good. So little snow.
 Time to deepen my well.  Get ready to pay higher food prices as the drought continues.
A group of Churches and faith healers are up on a nearby  peak as I write to send up prayers for rain today. I'm not a believer in such things, but I don't oppose the effort. Jim's son is quite willing to send some snow our way, but, as we know that doesn't work either. Time to move to Alaska, but they don't have olive bars or BBP there. Whatsa girl to do?

BOONEVILLE, CALIFORNIA

We left Mendocino late in the day with plans to have a beer at the Anderson Valley Brewing Company. I had never visited the small town of Booneville, but I had tasted their awesome beers. As in most craft breweries, they have offerings you cannot buy bottled at your local store.  The place was ten deep at the bar and Jim impatient to move on. (He isn’t a fan of craft brews.)
I believe this is the only North American town that has its own folk language called Boontling. Since he had never heard of Boontling, I thought maybe some of you may not have. The beer labels have this to say in Boontling:  “It’s bahl hornin’”   Which means, it’s good drinking.
An explanation of Boontling  from the Boonville Historical Society:

Boontling

A Little Boont

Boontling has received worldwide interest as a linguistic phenomenon. A few of the words you might see or hear while in Anderson Valley include: bahl gorms (good food), buckey walter (pay phone), pike (to walk or travel), rookie-to (quail), harp (to talk or speak), horn of zeese (cup of coffee) and Boont (Boonville).
Around the turn of the century, Anderson Valley was a very isolated farming and logging community. To pass the time (and have a little fun at it), the locals began to use self-developed terms. The language originated with the women and children workers in the hop fields and eventually spread to become the spoken word for most valley residents. Today, with most fluent “boonters” in their elder years, the Boonting Club, Historical Society and many local businesses work to keep the language alive. Listed below are some common Boontling Terms:

• Aplenty Bahl Steinber Horn: Really great beer.
• Apple Head: A girl friend.
• Bahlest: excellent or great
• Bahl Hornin’: good drinking
• Barney Flats: Hendy Woods National Forest. A spectacular forest of virgin redwoods, located in Anderson Valley.
• Belk Region: Bell Valley. A scenic valley located just beyond the baldies, northeast of Boonville. It was here in the hop fields, during the turn of the century, that the language of Boontling originated.
• Boont: Boonville. The largest community and focal center of Anderson Valley. The town where the language of Boontling originated. Now famous for its local brewery.
• Bucky: A nickel (A politically incorrect reference to the Indian head).
• Bucky Walter: A telephone
• Charlie Ball: To embarrass (A local indian of this name was easily embarrassed).
• Deep Enders: Residents of the town of Navarro, located due west of Anderson Valley and bordering the Pacific Coast.
• Heelch: A large quantity.
• High Rollers: Residents of the town of Yorkville, the smallest town in Anderson Valley. Located 10 miles east of Boonville.
• Horn: A drink; to drink. (Dialectal.)
• Jeffer: A large fire. (A Boonter named Jeff built large fires in his fireplace.)
• Shoveltooth: A doctor; an M.D. (A local doctor was so nicknamed because he had protruding teeth.)
• It’s not just shy sluggin’ gorms neemer: It’s not just for breakfast anymore.
• It’s a slow lope’n a beeson tree: Literally a comfortable pace on a horse, while sitting on a very comfortable saddle. Commonly referred to mean “a mellow ride.”
• Pike: A hike or stroll
• Poleeko: Philo. The second largest town in Anderson Valley, located 6 miles west of Boonville.
• Rudy nebs: pristine, mineral rich, well water.
• Tidrik: A party; a social gathering. (Probably from “tea drink,” a dialectal expression meaning the same thing.)
• Zeese: Coffee. (A local hunter-camp cook nicknamed Zeese, from his initials Z.C., made bitterly strong coffee.

At one time, people would stop at a Booneville Cafe, or the gas station, and hear this strange language  and wonder if the town’s people were  a bit daft. While they are quite comfortable among themselves with their lingo,  some folks admitted  to “putting  it on”  a bit for the tourists.  It must have helped. The lingo put Boonville forever in the history books as a unique place.
I’ve read of instances of children forming their own personal language. And folk languages are fairly common in other countries, Australia, and Germany,  to name two.  When Jim and I traveled last year through southern Louisiana, the Cajun French is  clearly an adapted form of French, English and German, a living language particular to that region. Living language changes within our lifetimes and it makes me wonder about the proclivities of texting, and computer short-speak.  How will it affect our language?  Pity the French. They have a language minister whose job it is to protect the language from being bastardized. A losing battle in my opinion.

CHEHALIS, WASHINGTON

Chehalis, the town, has a very historic feel to it, yet prosperous and friendly.

Triangle buildings. The St. Helen’ s Hotel. Now refurbished as apartments. The cross walks all have garden meridians and marble insets right in town. The town was founded in 1873.

Jim and I wondered if this building was up to code?

I like old buildings and there were many of them here. I stopped a woman on the street and asked her:  What is your favorite place in Chehalis?
She hemmed a bit. Sweet Inspirations, a restaurant came to mind. “Good food, good people, and they have a bathroom now,” she added.

Old wood, brick. Charming.

Another thing about the commercial buildings on the highway through town is the depth. Buildings here suggest a former thriving city.
“The Bakery,” the best, she said.

It smelled great when we walked by. "Oh, no, my very favorite place is the old mercantile. They’ve turned it into this fabulous gift shop. I’m in there looking every time I come to town." She explained to me that she was born and raised in Chehalis and went off to college and came back because she loved it here, even though there aren’t many high paying jobs. “Amend that to NO high paying jobs,” she laughed.  She explained that it has a small town feel. Everyone knows everyone. The business people are friendly and helpful. It’s a great place to live and raise children.

An independent book store, with a whole line of art supplies  that’s been open for at least 30 years. I value independent book stores over the chains.

I spotted a Pub And Grill and thought maybe they made home-brew. It wasn’t open, but M & K next door was. His barrel suggests he has 101 different kinds of wine. He said, “Oh, that was last year, I have more now. I just haven’t changed the sign.”

He has a good selection of craft beers.

He carries  mint products made in Chehalis. Candy, snacks and drinks, some alcoholic.

I didn’t much care for the gift shop, but the town as a whole looks cared for and happy.

This building was once a car dealership. Hard to imagine.

On the next street over “downtown” continued with more modern buildings if you call that old Zenith sign Modern. Nice town. Beauty shops, computer repair, huge hardware, anything you need. It sits halfway between Olympia and Portland and me thinks they get plenty of “tourists”.