The Dalles

You are currently browsing articles tagged The Dalles.

When I filmed this on Monday, there was indeed a red flag fire warning for our vineyard area. Today, Thursday, there is none. This does not eliminate the actuality of fire occurring, just lessens the chances, for NOW. And I have no idea why I blink like a fish. I guess I’m tired. Blame it on the heat. For sure it’s not because of anything else in my life, since it IS so leisurely…

Tags: , , , , ,

It’s been a busy morning. Busy weekend, really, that seems to continue into the work week. This morning we had a house inspection; put an offer on a much bigger house not too far from where we currently live – we love the neighborhood so, North Portland, the last outpost of the city where you can find affordable housing in a spot that feels at times like a small mountain town. Views of Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens are the norm, as well as the running backdrop of Forest Park, the largest urban woodland park in the contiguous US. Would rather that we were putting an offer on a house in The Dalles, or better yet, building our own out there next to the vineyard, or at least down the hill aways – because NOTHING compares to that view, in my opinion (stay tuned for video post to see what I’m talking about).

Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

HIGHLIGHTS: Architects Meet Us On the Hilltop. Building-Wise, What Do We Really Need Now? Fan Keeps Up Much Needed Urging. Moving Along: To Do List.

COUNTDOWN: 35 WEEKS

Now that eight weeks of The Little House On the Hilltop (TLHOTH) project have come and gone, let me share what’s happened since the last post:

Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , ,

There a few things I hope to accomplish in 2010:

  • Work on that attitude of mine;
  • Establish a horseshoe pit;
  • Get our wine sold;
  • Submit another story (or two, but one’s a start);
  • Build some shelter on our hilltop.

Each one you’ll most likely hear something about here at The Uncultivated Life, but it is to the last, the shelter on our hilltop, that I now write because seriously, enough is enough.

Almost four years into this, we need something on our hilltop other than our camper. Just a small something where someone like you, dear Reader, can come out and kick back; to sit and survey, look out and see and enjoy the quiet and the expanse, like a small oasis from the rest of the busy world. And someplace where the dreamer inside can go free. (Not to mention, we also need a place to store our farming gear, get that cute little tractor out of the elements, and clean up the clutter that drives me NUTso). As much as we may have started this for ourselves, it’s always been our hope to share it with other individuals who get it: the inherent beauty of a Western landscape; the timeless, intrinsic connection shared between the earth, its bounty, and the people who work it; the idea of possibility and the determination to go for it; the appreciation of the simple and authentic.

Right now, the camper is probably too simple. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hooray! The Dalles has been named a “True Western Town” in True West Magazine’s top 10 list of, you guessed it, “True Western Towns” for 2010.

I’ve always had the feeling, from the first time we showed up and actually spent some time in The Dalles looking for vineyard ground—instead of simply rumbling by on 84 as I imagine most do, because honestly, from a car window, The Dalles kind of shows its ass to the world and who would want to stop? The auto repair and RV spots, the strip malls and former old rundown Aluminum factory site now razed to a bunch of bare earth and that’s probably enough—that it was, at its soul, a quiet, Western town. And it is: at its center you’ll find restored, 19th century Victorians; one-way down-town streets lined with high-windowed brick buildings; farm rigs and big hats going by; cowboy boots and western wear; plus all what the article in True West speaks of. And all against the backdrop of enormous, grassy hills that echo Connemara to me—or pictures I’ve seen of New Zealand—on the Washington side, and heights of basalt outcroppings with scrub oak and sage on the Oregon side; the Western character is hard to miss. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

You know how when you meet someone and you immediately bristle with dislike? The very next morning after our Ireland return, greatly jetlagged yet fresh-faced, we would drive out to meet the person potentially interested in selling us some land, Old Wise All. At that time, he would be our only chance because from all the ground Scott had identified as prime for our venture, he was the only landowner who would show any interest in letting some go. Scott would have the vineyard fever in him, and somehow it would feel like we had crossed a now-or-never threshold. Whatever it took.

Of course our budget would determine just how far we could go. And Old Wise All would be privy to the numbers; his interest in our budget and Scott’s willingness to hand it over land (physically) unseen, man unmet, would put me on high alert towards the whole deal from the get go: why would someone just interested in selling land want to know our entire budget for the endeavor? And why would Scott hand that over to a stranger?

Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Newer entries »