Escape from Horrors of the "Real World"

For the record:  I do think about ebola and ISIS (or whatever it is) and racial violence and upcoming elections. 

In fact, I spend way too much time thinking about all the above and whole lot of other ugly, mean or horrific stuff happening in the world outside of our peaceful abode where pretty autumn leaves flutter in the breeze.

So, I work even harder to forget it all.

Thank God for my camera and our lovely weather and a relative sense of freedom---all of which allow me the opportunity to forget the images and revelations I see and hear on the news.

The worse things that happened in my day yesterday:   

1.      Missing the moon eclipse cuz I read the wrong time for the event
2.        Thinking the Kubota tractor had run out of diesel only to learn that one must disengage the brush hog for the tractor to start.
3.        Catching three deer—that would be Mama and her twins---stealing apples from our tree in the north lawn. 

Guilty buggers, I’ll tell you. They ran as soon as I pointed the camera at them.

What would I do without my camera!

Well, yesterday, after all the bad stuff happened (‘cept the apple thievery) and after putting in another morning of hard work prepping the garden for next year, I climbed into the Suburu, with my trusty camera at my side, and headed for Talache.

Just the mention of the name Talache takes me back to a time when I was about 4 years old.

Our Uncle George Brown and his wife came west from Chicago to buy a rail car full of lumber for his business called Brown Wood Products.  They were rich.  She wore a mink stoll.

And, being rich, they took us to dinner at Talache.  I don’t remember much about the evening or the restaurant scene, but I do know that it was THE place to dine at the time.

It’s a vague memory tucked far away in my mind, but until I did some research about Talache a few years ago, it was enough for me to know that the area out south of Sagle was a special place back in the day.

It still is, but the grandeur of a dining establishment where Hollywood stars came for fine food and fishing exists in memoirs and probably in the minds of a few families around this area who were associated with or freqented the place.

My other memory of Talache came several years later when Florence Carter, our neighbor on North Boyer and former City Clerk, arranged a yard-work job for Willie and Annie.

I drove them out there to a lady’s house, which was located right on the lake shore and just off the main road.  With that brief visit, I remember the white caps and the grandeur of yet another beautiful spot along Lake Pend Oreille.

I think the kids enjoyed their time out there and especially appreciated the money they earned.

Yesterday, I took a few side trips on my way to Talache, including Shepherd Lake for a nice stroll through the campground, to East Dufort Road where I stopped at the  Fish and Game Wildlife Management area and alongside the road to snap a barn picture or two.  I also turned off on Ponderosa Road, a dead-ender off the Talache Road, which I’d never driven before.

Once at Talache, I met with some disappointment, as the day had turned hazy, so grand and glorious photos of the expansive lake were not to be.

Still, it was peaceful and quiet.  In fact, I disturbed the peace and quiet of a lone fisherman sitting in a chair along the shore.  Oh, his dog Rusty helped rouse him from his nap by barking at me.

I moved on down the shore, loving the clankng sound of rocks beneath my Tevos.  The Tevos weren’t the greatest for walking up the steep trail overlooking a rock outcrop, but I took it anyway, figuring I could always slide down on my rear if the descent turned too steep.

Once up on the perch overlooking the lake, I heard something rustling in the bushes behind me.  Turning around toward the noise, 

I saw a group of turkeys, totally oblivious of my presence and feeding off whatever turkeys find on steep hillsides. 

Taking careful steps on my way down, I remained upright clear back to the shoreline.

On my way back to the car, I visited briefly with the fisherman, who I learned was the father of two rather successful young women I know. 

Then, I promised to leave him in his tranquil setting and head on.   Once home,  I saw the thieves at the apple tree and chuckled as they raced off and then stood at the edge of our lawn, deciding when the best time is for three deer to cross the road.

Seems a lot of deer don’t take that time for contemplation.

It was another pleasant day of escaping the hideous things happening in the world, and from what I heard as Bill went out the door this morning, we’ll go on another escape this afternoon---to a spot we dearly love:  Boulder Meadows. 

We’ve never been there in the fall, so it should be a great adventure.

Happy Thursday.