Saturday, October 10, 2009
Sutherlin, Oregon
Sunny, McD's
Well, here we are at our new house sitting assignment. We are going to be here until next June.... unbelievable! This is another house sitting assignment that we found at housecarers. Spent last evening with the homeowners. Had a wonderful roast beef dinner! We will feel lost for a few days. We must remember that and cut ourselves some slack - let ourselves settle in. We hare having coffee and giving the homeowners time to pack up. This seems like a much better location that Seattle and the house is very comfortable. The bed is great! That is a very important criteria for us AND the bedroom is very dark.... another nice plus. Guess we will spend time unpacking today. It always helps me to nest.
Showing posts with label housecarers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housecarers. Show all posts
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Summer In Suquamish
It is a lovely summer day in Suquamish. Just a few short months ago we wondered where we would be this summer of 2006 and then Karen came into our lives. Karen had an ad on housecarers. We responded and it was a real match for all of us. Karen is a lovely young woman. She is a merchant marine captain and she needed a housesitter for the summer. We are in a lovely spot surrounded by trees and just a 1/2 mile walk to the water where we look across to the skyline of Seattle. We are blessed indeed.
Charlotte
Charlotte
Friday, October 22, 2004
ET, Phone Home
by Larry
Someone asked us the other day if we were tired of traveling and didn't we need a home? It got me to thinking about roots. Roots means family, community and a historic home to me. Those ingredients become problematic when you are on the road as much as we are. Charlotte and I are essentially, vagabonds. Actually, we are professional house sitters which means that we live in lots of different places for one to three months at a time. In just the last 18 months, we have lived in British Columbia, Atlanta, GA., Portland and Cottage Grove, OR., Dallas, TX., Denver, CO and most recently are living in Sacramento, CA! Talk about diversity! House and farm sitting has provided us with a way to see the country and meet lots of interesting people. If you are ever interested in looking into this as a way to thee the country or the world you can find out more at housecarers.com.
Friendships are what holds us together and provides us with "family". Richard Bach says it best, "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each others life." As for a home where all our friends live, Bach again nails it: "Can miles truly separate us from friends? If we want to be with someone we love, aren't we already there?" In this manner, we carry our community with us.
Each new destination offers new opportunities to meet new friends, make lasting relationships, thereby expanding our family and growing our roots ever deeper into the rich tapestry of our lives.
by Larry
Someone asked us the other day if we were tired of traveling and didn't we need a home? It got me to thinking about roots. Roots means family, community and a historic home to me. Those ingredients become problematic when you are on the road as much as we are. Charlotte and I are essentially, vagabonds. Actually, we are professional house sitters which means that we live in lots of different places for one to three months at a time. In just the last 18 months, we have lived in British Columbia, Atlanta, GA., Portland and Cottage Grove, OR., Dallas, TX., Denver, CO and most recently are living in Sacramento, CA! Talk about diversity! House and farm sitting has provided us with a way to see the country and meet lots of interesting people. If you are ever interested in looking into this as a way to thee the country or the world you can find out more at housecarers.com.
Friendships are what holds us together and provides us with "family". Richard Bach says it best, "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each others life." As for a home where all our friends live, Bach again nails it: "Can miles truly separate us from friends? If we want to be with someone we love, aren't we already there?" In this manner, we carry our community with us.
Each new destination offers new opportunities to meet new friends, make lasting relationships, thereby expanding our family and growing our roots ever deeper into the rich tapestry of our lives.
The Detour (notes from our 2003 journals)
THE DETOUR (notes from our 2003 journals)
by Larry Bacon August 22, 2003
Well, here we are headed to our second assignment with housecarers (our new house sitting agency) in Beaverton, Oregon by way of a conference in Portland. I don't know about you but seldom does an everyday event slap me up along side of my head with a message that says, "Hey, Larry, are you paying attention? Do you get this or do you need some more glyconutrients?" Let me tell you what happened on the way to Portland, Oregon from Atlanta, GA by way of Gunnison, Colorado. Charlotte and I headed west from Atlanta having spent nearly three months with heat, humidity, cockroaches the size of mice and southern fried food. The farther west we drove, the lighter we became, both literally and figuratively. We could identify with the early pioneers - setting their sights on the Oregon Territory. Wild Indians, deserts or floods couldn't deter us from our destination! By the time we reached Colorado, I was soaring - in a frenzy to arrive on the west coast - home at last!
Early one morning, we dropped down from the continental divide on Monarch Pass and entered the pleasant community of Gunnison. It had been several days since we had checked our e-mail so we were anxious to locate the local library in order to access the internet. Over the next hour, three different individuals urged Charlotte to take a detour to Crested Butte. They said something about not missing such an opportunity since we were this close. I, on the other hand, was still eager to push on so the 30 mile detour represented way too much delay. Let us just say that against my opinion, we headed off in our new direction and I pouted my way up to Crested Butte.
If you have ever driven along the Gunnison River, you will know how hard it was for me to maintain my aloof disdain for such a journey. Each turn of the road brought new vistas of still pools, rapids and the occasional fly fisherman wading in the shallows, stalking the wary trout.
By the time we drove into the tiny, magical village of Crested Butte, my spirits had been restored. It is nestled in a valley, high up in the Rockies. We were greeted by masses of flowers growing everywhere - baskets, barrels, buckets, boxes, beds and mounds. The air was crystal clear, warm in the sun but cool in the shade. We were even entertained by a distant thunder storm. The long three blocks of multi-colored businesses reminded us of North Lake Tahoe in California back in the 60s. We walked the length of town on the lookout for a place to eat lunch. The young man who took our order for a gargantuan Mexican style wrap, urged us to continue over Kebler Pass. He assured us that we wouldn't regret our decision to do so and the road came out in Delta, CO, our destination anyway. A lady in the visitor center said that by coming to Crested Butte, we had contracted the Ute curse – we would always have to return. When we asked her how many times she had been to Crested Butte, she replied that she had just moved back for the third time. Oh sure! One more detour! But by this time, I was beginning to get the picture.
We topped out quickly at Kebler Pass where we walked over to an old pioneer cemetery. That was the beginning of one of the most awesome sights I have ever experienced. The well maintained gravel road undulated and meandered along the top of the Rocky Mountains through an endless, dense grove of Aspens. You could hardly see through the stark white trunks, the trees were so thick. Dark storm clouds contrasted with the stark blue of the sky and the pale gleam of the looming peaks. It was just like being immersed in a Bev Doolittle painting! Where were the Indian spirits or the hiding bears? Were we to become her next camouflaged subject? (Look very closely at the picture of the aspens) Reluctantly, we left the Aspen forest behind and descended to the interstate to continue our journey. Returning to our original course, I realized how much I would have missed had I not taken that detour. I was struck in a powerful way by the metaphor this represented in my life. How many "detours" have I ignored, denying myself unexplored experiences and adventures? How often have I been so focused on my path that I missed doors along the way? My lesson for the day was to proceed a little slower, watching more closely for those delights along the side of the road (and to appreciate Charlotte’s wisdom more often.)
by Larry Bacon August 22, 2003
Well, here we are headed to our second assignment with housecarers (our new house sitting agency) in Beaverton, Oregon by way of a conference in Portland. I don't know about you but seldom does an everyday event slap me up along side of my head with a message that says, "Hey, Larry, are you paying attention? Do you get this or do you need some more glyconutrients?" Let me tell you what happened on the way to Portland, Oregon from Atlanta, GA by way of Gunnison, Colorado. Charlotte and I headed west from Atlanta having spent nearly three months with heat, humidity, cockroaches the size of mice and southern fried food. The farther west we drove, the lighter we became, both literally and figuratively. We could identify with the early pioneers - setting their sights on the Oregon Territory. Wild Indians, deserts or floods couldn't deter us from our destination! By the time we reached Colorado, I was soaring - in a frenzy to arrive on the west coast - home at last!
Early one morning, we dropped down from the continental divide on Monarch Pass and entered the pleasant community of Gunnison. It had been several days since we had checked our e-mail so we were anxious to locate the local library in order to access the internet. Over the next hour, three different individuals urged Charlotte to take a detour to Crested Butte. They said something about not missing such an opportunity since we were this close. I, on the other hand, was still eager to push on so the 30 mile detour represented way too much delay. Let us just say that against my opinion, we headed off in our new direction and I pouted my way up to Crested Butte.
If you have ever driven along the Gunnison River, you will know how hard it was for me to maintain my aloof disdain for such a journey. Each turn of the road brought new vistas of still pools, rapids and the occasional fly fisherman wading in the shallows, stalking the wary trout.
We topped out quickly at Kebler Pass where we walked over to an old pioneer cemetery. That was the beginning of one of the most awesome sights I have ever experienced. The well maintained gravel road undulated and meandered along the top of the Rocky Mountains through an endless, dense grove of Aspens. You could hardly see through the stark white trunks, the trees were so thick. Dark storm clouds contrasted with the stark blue of the sky and the pale gleam of the looming peaks. It was just like being immersed in a Bev Doolittle painting! Where were the Indian spirits or the hiding bears? Were we to become her next camouflaged subject? (Look very closely at the picture of the aspens) Reluctantly, we left the Aspen forest behind and descended to the interstate to continue our journey. Returning to our original course, I realized how much I would have missed had I not taken that detour. I was struck in a powerful way by the metaphor this represented in my life. How many "detours" have I ignored, denying myself unexplored experiences and adventures? How often have I been so focused on my path that I missed doors along the way? My lesson for the day was to proceed a little slower, watching more closely for those delights along the side of the road (and to appreciate Charlotte’s wisdom more often.)
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