Cranes in Whitney Valley by Jon Remmerde

If you live in New England (or the northeast for that matter),
spring has been unkind this year - except to the ducks and frogs...
they are on her "favorites" list, obviously.
There's been a nor'easter spinning off our Atlantic
shores now for days and it's been annoying. Oh, I
love the rain, when it comes, does its job and departs.
But steady mist, drizzle and, at times, horizontal sheets
that cut like knives... well, be gone. However, being
cooped up inside HAS given me opportunity to enjoy
Jon Remmerde's essays (as he calls them) - more like short stories -
that he sends to appreciative folks every little while.
I'm posting one here, simply because I like his writing...
and it's good writing to share with your family... and he takes
us to some place in Oregon that I would like to visit.
But, second best is visiting that place through his stories.
Jon and his wife homeschooled/unschooled their two daughters.
Many of their learning adventures are reprinted on the web site:
http://www.homeeducator.com/FamilyTimes.
You can subscribe to his regular e-stories
by clicking on the linked title above and
visiting his web site.
Thanks Jon for brightening our days. - JB



Cranes in Whitney Valley
by Jon Remmerde
excerpted from the book, Somewhere in an Oregon Valley

I spaded the garden soil. Laura hung wet clothes on the clothesline below the garden. Juniper and Amanda swung in the swings I built for them the second year we lived in Whitney Valley. They sang and made up poems and laughed.
For the first time that spring, we heard the sandhill cranes. They called from up Camp Creek Valley, and their very loud trumpeting echoed across both valleys.
Then we saw the two birds. They flew toward us, close above the willows along Camp Creek. Majestic, grey, red-crowned birds, they powered their huge wings down in slow, curving strokes against the clear mountain air, stretched their necks straight, and trailed their long legs behind. They crossed the highway and flew above the barn and then over us, not more than twenty feet above us, calling all the way. They flew across the river and across the meadow and landed by the edge of the timber and fell silent as they began to eat.
It took us a while to remember what we were doing before we heard the cranes. Laura said, "They came to say hello, to let us know they're back." (Read more - click on title above.)