Happy New Year

What happened to 2010?! I can't believe how quickly it flew by. I'd like to say that it is because Adam and I have been so busy, but I can't ignore the fact that years do seem to pass more quickly as we grow older.

To be honest, New Years has never really been that big of a deal for either of us. We don't go to New Years Eve parties, we have no "Bringing in the New Year" rituals, we don't make New Years resolutions and we have a hard time staying awake until midnight. Actually, I suppose that is only partially true. Adam once made a resolution to never make a resolution, and so far, he's kept it! The most significant impact New Years has on me is that fact that it takes me until March to remember to write the correct date in my check book.

Nevertheless, I'd like to wish everyone a wonderful 2011. May your year be mosquito, gnat and weed free. May it be filled with stunning, refreshing, summer thunderstorms, lush, plentiful gardens and amazing home-made, shell station chowder. May your commute be clear of rocks, ice, deer and late-to-work crazies and may we all take the time to enjoy the beauty around us that we so easily take for granted.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas!

If you're a performing musician or are married to one, you'll understand what I mean when I say that December is the crazy-busiest month of the year. After singing and playing in numerous concerts and directing school programs for my students, vacation has begun and I feel like I can finally slow down. I'm ready to kick back and start enjoying time with family and friends; exchanging gifts and eating too much food; watching movies and sleeping in. 

A very warm Merry Christmas to everyone! I hope that you also have the opportunity to relax and enjoy this season. 

Mocking the Townies

I absolutely love the snow, so Saturday's big snowstorm made me giddy! I grew a little concerned, though, as the snow piled higher and higher, wondering if I was going to make it to church in the morning. On any other weekend, I probably would have just hunkered down and stayed home, but Sunday was our big Christmas program and I was singing a solo! The weather reports stated that in Wenatchee the snow would turn to freezing rain over night causing extremely slick conditions and the snow in Waterville, which had already completely buried our Jeep, didn't appear to be slowing. A friend of mine who lives up the Colockum called with similar concerns and we agreed to keep in contact with each other in case we heard anything from the church.

Sunday morning, I hadn't heard anything, but the roads in town were being plowed and I knew that Pine Canyon was probably being plowed as well, so I resolved to make the trek down the hill. Unfortunately, Adam was sick, so I was going to have to go by myself. He used what little energy he had to shovel a path and disentomb the Jeep while I was getting ready and I set off early, driving slowly, hoping I wouldn't collect any impatient drivers behind me.

Thankfully, I was able to follow a snowplow down the canyon. It was extremely slick, as I expected, but by the time I reached Orondo, the roads were bare and wet! I easily made it to church in time for our final rehearsal as did my Colockum buddy! She told me that her drive was quite scary because she and her little Subaru Forester had to literally plow their own path for miles through two feet of snow before they reached the main road below. Another friend managed to arrive on time after driving all the way from Tall Timbers in Lake Wenatchee, which apparently has about seven feet of snow! Amazingly, several of the musicians who live in town arrived late due to the weather, which, as you can imagine, prompted a hearty mocking from us out-of-towners.

Snowmobiles

Nothing says winter like the sound of snowmobiles whizzing up and down the streets of Waterville in the evening. We were told before we moved here, that snowmobiles were an essential mode of transportation in the winter. This is our fourth winter here, and so far that hasn't exactly proven to be true. The only snowmobilers I have noticed are teenagers taking advantage of tall snowplow piles and the wide-open wheat fields. I've never snowmobiled myself but being a motorcycle rider, I can just imagine how much fun it must be to open'er up and fly through acres of untouched snow.

I often wondered, as I looked at their crisscrossing tracks... Do they ask permission before carving their paths through the farmers' wheat fields? I always assumed that they must. I couldn't imagine that anyone would recreate on someone else's property without asking first. That is until Adam and I came home to a tell-tale track right through the middle of our yard! We were not amused to say the least, though we were thankful that the culprit didn't ride over our water spigot. I guess, perhaps, we're going to need to invest in a fence.

Living Above the Clouds

The other day I was reminded just how gorgeous Waterville can be in the winter. During our drive home, I noticed a small window of sky peaking through the clouds to the northeast. As we ascended Pine Canyon, the clouds thinned, and we emerged from dark, dreary, cloudiness into blindingly sunny, blue skies shining on clean, sparkly snow-covered fields. After spending a day wrapped up in a Wenatchee winter inversion it is really a breathtaking experience. I love to pull over at the top of the canyon and look down at the clouds to see how they fill every crack and crevice below, covering the valley like a huge white blanket. It's amazing the difference a couple thousand feet can make!

Recycling

People in Waterville seem to be very resourceful. When we moved up here, the first project on my to-do list was the removal of an old wire fence which surrounded our yard. I couldn't wait to get rid of it, but once it was down, we were faced with a dilemma. What were we going to do with all of the metal posts and gnarled wire? Not a day later, a neighbor came by, asking if we still had the old fence, and if she could have it. Of course we gladly agreed and she took it all away, finding a use for it in her own yard!

We didn't think we'd ever get rid of an old heater fuel tank which was attached to the back of our garage, but another neighbor inquired about it, saying that he could really use it and, to our delight, he took it off our hands! He later arranged to have a bunch of old scrap metal, left by former tenants, hauled away for recycling and he found a use for a "worthless" pile of scrap wood and wooden fencing that had also been graciously gifted to us by the previous tenants.

We were told that people often ask around before disposing of things because you never know who might be able to use it. I'm learning that up here one man's junk truly is another man's treasure.

Road Hazards

People often express concern that I have to travel on "that horrible, windy road in the winter." I'll admit, it caused a genuine apprehension in me when we were considering moving to Waterville, but, you know, it really isn't that bad. The road crews do an excellent job of keeping the roadway clear. In fact, Pine Canyon, the road that is most feared by those who don't regularly navigate it, is usually better maintained than Highway 97 below!

My greatest Pine Canyon anxiety, until recently, was not actually the snow and ice, but rather the frequently falling rocks. We learned, very quickly, that we needed to be on high alert during and after a rainshower and when snow was melting. It is really scary to come around a corner and find that a large rock has plopped itself in the middle of your lane of travel. It is even more intensely frightening to be nearly assaulted by a St. Bernard-sized boulder falling directly from the cliffs above! (I hope my grandma isn't reading this one.) I remember seeing the huge rock detach and fall in slow motion as I swerved toward the shoulder. It smashed into the lane beside me, showering my vehicle with gravelly debris. Thankfully, conditions have improved since the rock slope stabilization project in 2009. I honestly didn't think it would make a big difference, but we rarely see rocks on the roadway now.

Now all we really have to be worried about is crazy, late-to-work drivers!

Hear them ring?

It is ten minutes to five and I am eagerly awaiting the top of the hour. I haven't heard the church bells in weeks and I'm hoping that it is just because I haven't been paying attention. They've always faithfully pealed on the hour, every hour between 8:00am and 8:00pm. I asked Adam yesterday if he had heard them recently and he admitted, puzzled, that he wasn't sure. It's funny to me that we can grow so accustomed to something that it can completely elude our notice.

I'm fairly certain they aren't real bells. I'm not sure how they could be, considering they can play a full diatonic scale and the bell tower at the Catholic church seems barely big enough to house a single bell. Real or not, though, I think the bells add to the homey, quaintness of Waterville. It is the perfect effect when you're out tending a garden or enjoying a warm, summer evening on the porch. I love to analyze to the overtones as the longer songs ring out. If you listen close and really zero in, you can hear that the overtones sound a little louder than the melody. It actually makes the song sound kind of strange.

Sadly, 5:00 has come and passed and I still don't know if the bells have rung! Just as the hour changed, a massive Dodge Ram drove by, drowning out all but its own sound. I poked my head out of the window in hopes that I could hear beyond the sharp diesel clatter, but to no avail. Maybe I'll be able to hear them tomorrow as I spend some time outside, packing up my soaker hoses for the winter.

Old Pine Canyon

I love to learn about local history. I'm fascinated by abandoned homesteads, historical buildings and old roads. Since moving to Waterville, I've heard quite a few stories about the old Pine Canyon road. People say that it was so steep and treacherous that the old Model Ts had to navigate it backward. Apparently, the cars had more traction when running in reverse, but the most important reason for backward driving was the fact that the gravity feed gas tank was situated behind the engine. If the driver were to go forward up the steep grade, the gas tank would tilt below the engine and the car would stall! That's a bad situation when there's nowhere to turn around!

There are more stories that tell of car races, snow storms and a catastrophic flood; stories which fueled my already overactive curiosity. I became determined to find out where the original road was. I could see parts of it deep in the floor of the canyon as we drove up the hill but I wasn't sure if it was still accessible from the top. Adam and I decided to begin our search on a mystery road, one that I had been curious about for quite some time, and to my excitement, it turned out to be the old highway! We drove until we reached a roadblock and then continued down the hill on foot. It was fun to imagine, as we hiked, the tiny old cars puttering around the hairpin turns, yet it was somewhat sad to see a little piece of history eroding away. We made our way down to where the old road meets the new and upon losing the trail, headed back for home. Now, in order to appease my nearly-satisfied curiosity, I need to figure out how to access the lower portion of the road.

Traffic Jam

I used to think it was hilarious that my dad lived in a town with only one traffic light. I marveled at the fact that I could take a trip to the store and encounter less than ten people on the journey to and fro and I couldn't understand how anyone could stand living in a small town with so little activity. Little did I know that one day I'd move to a zero traffic light town and that my perspective would change so drastically. Westport, Washington is not nearly as tiny as I once supposed, and Wenatchee is practically a booming metropolis. Adam and I have grown so accustomed to the lack of traffic in this town that when we have to wait at a stop sign for two or three cars to pass we joke that we've just experienced a traffic jam. Now, the feeling I experience when driving in Wenatchee is not dissimilar to the feelings I have when I cross over the Cascades into Seattle.

Here in Waterville people tend to go out of their way to be courteous, allowing others to go first, even if it causes a two or three-way standstill. Drivers will stop for a single pedestrian even if they're the only vehicle within miles and even if it would be more time-efficient to proceed and allow the pedestrian to cross after. In Wenatchee, sometimes it feels like pedestrian is a four-letter word. People take their lives in their hands when they grab that little orange flag and step off the curb. On the Sellar bridge, it's every man for himself; don't you dare get in the way, and good luck getting out of a parking lot on North Wenatchee Avenue during rush hour! I realize I'm beginning to sound a little like an old codger musing about the "old days." I guess living up here is a little like a time-warp, but that's another article altogether.

Home Cookin' at the Gas Station?

The last thing I imagined, when a friend offered to take Adam and me to lunch at the Shell station, was that It would become one of my favorite places to eat. I accepted the offer reluctantly; quite unenthusiastic about the prospect of eating gas station burritos or vacuume packed sandwiches. As we entered the store, we were guided past the chip aisles and past the heat lamped burritos to a small set of tables next to a kitchen in the back. To my surprise, there were several people back there, chatting at the tables, enjoying lunch. Adam quickly stepped up to the counter and ordered a burger and fries, but I, feeling snobbishly leery of the quality of food (specifically beef) one could get in the back of a Waterville gas station, opted for a tuna melt. I don't know what she did, but the lady in the kitchen worked some serious tuna melting magic. It was good! So good, in fact, that I bravely decided to try a bite of Adam's burger, which also turned out to be quite excellent.

I was on a tuna a melt kick for a long time after that first visit. I wouldn't order anything else because I knew I liked it and I didn't want to risk ordering something I might enjoy less. Then one day, we discovered the soup.

I had always ignored the little crock pot sitting on the counter, figuring it was probably just warm canned soup. Adam decided to try it first, and as soon as he dipped the ladle we realized that we had been missing out. It was not just chicken noodle soup. It was obviously made from scratch, with hand-made noodles and it tasted just like my grandma's chicken and dumplin's! I should have ordered my own cup because after several "just one more" bites, Adam's portion had been reduced by half! We discovered later that the clam chowder is even more amazing than the chicken noodle soup! Next on the "need to try list..." biscuits and gravy!

"Poop Trucks"

That's what Adam and I call them anyway. The smelly double-trailer trucks travel slowly up and down Pine Canyon every day. I think they average about 20mph on a good day during their uphill journey, creating quite an annoyance for the locals, many of whom are accustomed to flying around the curves at 55+. The truck drivers are always nice enough to pull off the road when the shoulder is wide enough, but some people don't bother waiting. As soon as they have more than 20 ft of visibility, ZOOM! they pass, whether they're in a legal passing zone or not!

We've heard that the trucks haul waste sewage from the Seattle area and dump it in a field somewhere on the Plateau, but we're not sure where. For some reason, this has been an intriguing mystery to Adam and me. Where exactly do to they drop their load? Is the waste they're hauling wet; solid; dried; gelatinized? One of these days, we're going to follow one. We're hoping the driver will be willing to fill us in on the ins and out of hauling Seattle pooh. We get quite a kick out of what we imagine his reaction will be when we ask if we can watch. I seriously wonder if anyone else ever thinks of things like this.

I'm pretty sure my home does exist!

I don't know if anyone else has this problem, but for me, since moving to Waterville, online shopping has become a bit of a challenge. The issue stems from the fact that there is no home to home mail delivery service here. Our homes don't even have mailboxes! Instead, everyone in town has a PO Box and has to travel to the local post office to pick up their mail. Honestly, this isn't really that big of a deal considering the fact that everything in Waterville is a just a couple of blocks from anywhere. The problem is that our home address is not always recognized as "valid."

I know that there won't be a problem if the company will be shipping via UPS. I think UPS would ship to a street corner if I gave good enough directions. Some companies don't specify their shipping method so I automatically enter my PO Box address first, in hopes that they'll be able to send my purchased item through the mail. Frustration sets in, though, as soon as I receive the message, "We're sorry, we are unable to deliver to a Post Office Box. Please enter your home address." Well, that would be just fine if the US Postal Service recognized my home address! Unfortunately, many online merchant sites automatically scan the USPS database to verify that you have entered a "valid" address, and our home is not in the USPS database! Nevertheless, I obediently enter my home address and click submit over and over, hoping the system will have pity on me and stop saying "Please enter a valid address!" Alas, my efforts at annoying the automated system ultimately fail and I end up having to ship my item to Adam's parent's home in Malaga.

Wheat Fields

Yet another reminder that summer is over: all of the wheat has been cut leaving acres of unsightly golden stubble. It is the only time that I find the fields to be particularly unattractive. I wonder how many non wheat farmers really take the time to notice all of the different kinds of beauty that can be seen throughout the year in the wheat fields. When the ground is bare, I think it looks a little like a Japanese garden, intricately decorated with parallel grooves that swirl in patterns across the rolling hills. As the wheat seedlings begin to grow, if the sunlight is just right, the fields glow bright green. I think the fields are the most beautiful, though, when the wheat is fully grown and has changed from green to gold.

This year I noticed for the first time how the wheat moves as the wind swoops through the fields. It looks like yellow ocean waves. It was fascinating to be able to "see" the wind in that way and to realize just how unevenly it blows. Of course, for days after that I had the lyrics "Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain" stuck in my head. How cheesy is that? I must be a music teacher.

Deer Crossing

I used to have a much better opinion of deer, but daily pre-dawn driving on Hwy 97 has completely ruined my appreciation for them. My official distaste for the pea-brained creatures took root a couple of summers ago during the big repaving project. We were cruising along the freshly grooved pavement when Adam and I spotted the herd in front of us. I remember both of us letting out a startled shout as Adam hit the brakes and the tires began to screech! We skidded for what seemed like forever before finally coming to a stop, smoke billowing from the tires, just a few inches from several crossing deer. As we sat there holding our hearts in our chests, the deer continued across the road, without so much as a flinch, dopily ambling their way to the other side. Wouldn't you think they'd be a little frightened by the noise and commotion? It was as if they didn't even know we were there.

This was just one of many near-misses we have experienced during our early morning commute to Wenatchee. The deer on this side of the river seem to have become very accustomed to traffic and the multitudes of carcasses littering the roadway certainly don't deter them. It is interesting to me that you never seem to hear about the Hwy 97 deer hazard on local radio, yet there is always talk of the big horned sheep that love to hang out on the shoulders of 97A. I really hope it isn't "just a matter of time" before we actually hit one.

Horse Racing in Waterville?

I wonder how many people don't realize that there is horse racing in Waterville during the fair? And, by horse racing I mean the tiny saddles, knees to the chest, real jockeys kind of horse racing! We had no idea until we moved up here.

I remember going to the fair that first year and being disappointed at how tiny it was. Of course, I should have expected it. I mean, how big did I really think a fair in Waterville would be? Adam and I slowly browsed the exhibits, stopped to hear a little live music, looked at all of the animals and before we knew it, within minutes it seemed, we had seen everything there was to see! Or so we thought...

We learned that there was a rodeo/horse race scheduled for later that afternoon, so we decided to hang around. I had expected it to be very small and amateurish but it turns out, we've got an actual rodeo up here! It was so exciting! There were broncs and bulls, calves and steers and even some impressive barrel racing! The most thrilling thing for me, though, was when they guided the first set of horse racers onto the track. I remember grabbing Adam's arm and squealing, "Oh my gosh! THEY'RE ACTUAL JOCKEYS!!" I had never been to a "real" horse race before and I was absolutely giddy! Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, they topped the evening off with a crazy horse race that I had never heard of, the Indian Relay. One rider and three bareback horses per team. It was amazing to me how the riders could leap off one extremely tall horse and onto another so quickly!

The Big Bend Roundup and Horse Race, like the demolition derby, is an event that Adam and I look forward to every year. We were so disappointed, this year, because while we made it to the Saturday show, we neglected to double check the schedule and ended up missing the Sunday show completely! Oh well, there's always next year, right?

Want to meet new people? Paint your house!

In this town, old houses are often referred to by the names of their long-time owners or their former owners. Ours, built in 1910, is known as Old Mrs. Petesorich's house. How sad that a neat old home, worthy of its own personal identity, could be given over to long-term neglect and abuse. 

We were told that the person who sold the house was essentially a salvage-lord who bought dumpy homes and either rented them out cheaply or sold them for much more than they were worth. It made me sad, because Adam and I could see potential that nobody else seemed to be able to see and I thought, even with all of the work it would require, it was worth every penny. We didn't realize, when we bought the home, that fixing it up would evoke a sense of pride in those who knew and remembered it's former owner. 

 Little by little, Adam and I began making improvements. We started with some minor low-cost interior projects, just to make the place livable and planned to save the more expensive exterior projects for later. Unfortunately, we sprung a major leak in our roof, quickly forcing our attention outside. We reluctantly had our roof replaced which, to our surprise, made a huge improvement to the appearance of our home. It also exposed, in more detail, just how wretched the exterior paint job was. We decided then that we would devote the following summer to painting our house. 

We were amazed at how people came out of the woodwork to see what we were up to and to watch our progress. Daily, people would slowly drive by and give us thumbs-ups. Many people rolled their windows down to shout compliments while others simply walked up to offer their praise. Now, here's where the story gets really, awesomely small-townish: People we don't even know, talked about our paint job to other people we don't know (who apparently know us), who told Adam's sister that she had to come up and see it! She thought it was hilarious that everyone in Waterville seemed to be interested in the fact that we were painting our house! We even got a visit from the Mayor! (It was very nice to meet you Mr. DeVaney!) 

Thank you for all of the encouragement, everyone. You made the tedious task of house painting really fun for us and we are truly glad that you approve!

Weeds!

Why must there be Morning Glory and Creeping Charlie absolutely everywhere, and who decided that the things that are the easiest to grow are the things we don't want in our yard?

After more than two years, we finally have some grass growing in our yard! From a distance, when it has been freshly mowed, one might think that we have a fairly lush lawn. However, at closer glance one can see that a majority of what is green are weeds. They relentlessly creep their way throughout our yard, spewing their ugly vines into my flower beds. They thrive under the leaves of my veggie plants and reproduce at an obscene rate. I pull them, Preen them, hoe them and blast them with Roundup, yet they always return in greater volume than before. I know that it will be years before I make any real headway in this weed war.

Adam and I visited Ace the other day to pick up some supplies and noticed that there were flower seed packets for sale at the checkout stand. There I saw, to my amazement, prominently displayed on the top of the pile, a packet of Morning Glory seeds! Here I am trying to get rid of the awful stuff, and there are people out there who actually plant it on purpose?! Really?! People, take my advice. If you know what's good for you, never buy those seeds!

Listen and Learn

Note to Self: Listen to the locals and take to heart what they say.

I decided to try my hand at a vegetable garden this year after having wild success last year with a couple of zucchini and tomato plants. I began tilling the soil fairly early in April because the weather was so unseasonably warm and I just couldn't wait to get planting! As I was digging, hoeing and sifting, a neighbor stopped by, and said, "Looks like you're going to have quite a garden here! You know, it's still a little too early to plant. Up here, people usually wait until around the 10th of May to avoid the threat of frost." I smiled and nodded, but I had a hard time believing that Waterville's planting season could be so far offset from Wenatchee's. I did consider her advice, knowing that she would obviously know better than I, but ultimately I made the decision to plant a little early, thinking that this year, as warm as it had been, would be different.

I planted corn, beans, peas, tomatoes, sunflowers, blueberries, lettuce, broccoli, onions, carrots, squash and pumpkins! I eagerly watered and watched over the next couple of weeks as little sprouts began to emerge. Things seemed to be growing beautifully in my proud little garden until the first week of May when lo and behold... we were hit with frost! The little frostbitten leaves wilted and the stems withered leaving brown sticks where many of my baby plants had been. I was able to nurse a few back to life but ended up having to do a lot of replanting.

In short, my hastiness did not pay off. Thankfully, I now have a pretty decently thriving garden, but taking my neighbor's advice would have saved me quite a bit of work! Lesson learned. Next year, I'm picking up a Farmer's Almanac and I'll wait until the 10th of May no matter how deceptively warm and beautiful the weather happens to be!

Summer Thunderstorms

I wasn't always a thunderstorm lover. I remember being very afraid of them when I was little. I don't know when I crossed over from being a "storm avoider" to a borderline storm chaser but if there's a storm nearby, I pretty much drop everything to go and watch it.

Living in Wenatchee, I felt a little deprived because most of the good storms seemed to slide around us. Imagine my disappointment, Wednesday night, when I hopped on Facebook to find that Wenatchee was being pelted by a direct-hit severe thunderstorm! I wallowed in jealousy for a short time, thinking that once again, I had missed a big one when in the distance I heard the thunder. I must say, though it did not hit us with the ferocity that it did Wenatchee, it was a pretty fantastic storm. We experienced two more thunderstorms over the next three days, which was like heaven on Earth for me!

I, apparently, am not the only storm lover up here. Adam and I noticed that each time a storm hit, traffic in town increased. People all over town hop in their cars and drive to the outskirts in order to find a nice wheat field road parking spot, taking advantage of the endless, treeless plateau view. It's like a massive, panoramic drive-in theater.

One of these days I'm going to have to take a trip to Colorado so I can experience a "real" plains thunderstorm. I've been told that not even the most magnificent Northwest storm can compare.

Fruit Flies, Mosquitoes and Gnats (Oh My!)

It's a big dispute every year: to spray, or not to spray. There are some who argue that malathion, an agricultural/residential pesticide, is toxic to the human body and should not be sprayed residentially, and others who dismiss those claims and welcome the aerial application of the funky smelling spray. As for me, I haven't really had a strong opinion either way. I've just figured, "Well, I've been sprayed a few times now and it hasn't killed me, let them spray if they think it's necessary." Recent encounters, however, have me changing my tune.

Mosquitoes: Those little buggers know just how to ruin a perfectly lovely, musical evening on the front porch. I kick back in my chair to enjoy the warm summer evening and the sound of Adam's guitar when "zzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeee!" You know the sound; that horrific little high-pitched foreboding that announces the presence of those nasty winged vampires. Within minutes I'm covered in welts, flailing about, dousing myself in insect repellent. Adam, on the other hand, escapes relatively unscathed... that is, until the bike ride...

It was the perfect evening for a ride. The air was warm, the sun was setting and everything was peaceful. We hopped on our bikes to take a stroll around Waterville, finding it curious that there were no kids riding around the neighborhood. We rounded the first corner, picked up some speed and plowed face-first into a massive swarm of tiny flying insects. They covered our arms, weaved their way into our hair, flew up our noses and decorated our teeth. Adam was unamused, to say the least, and I am sure I didn't help matters much, considering that I kept riding, trying to enjoy myself in spite of the buggy horde. Later he pleaded, as he plucked the bugs from his hair, "Could we maybe we could go earlier in the evening or in the morning, next time?"

So, what is this new tune I sing, you may ask? It goes something like this: "SPRAY THEM! SPRAY THEM ALL!" Now it's personal!

Dear Mr. Helicopter Pilot, next time you do your early morning malathion fly-by, I'll be the one waving and dancing in my front yard! In the meantime, I'll do my best not to burn down the porch with tiki torches and citronella candles.

Small Town Noobs

The first thing most people say when they learn that Adam and I live in Waterville is "Why?!" (imagine a slight tinge of disgust in the tone;) to which I usually jokingly reply, "The house was cheap!" Truth be told, that actually IS the reason we ended up moving to Waterville. We began house hunting in 2007, soon after Adam received the news that his place of employment had been sold, and along with it, our job-perk apartment. We didn't want to have to scrape for pennies in order to make ends meet, so we purposely set our budget low, making it pretty much impossible to find something in Wenatchee that didn't require a bulldozer. Reluctantly, we decided to take a look at a house for sale in Waterville.

I immediately fell in love with the old, beater of a house, not only because the price was right, but also because I could see serious cute-house potential beneath many layers of renter abuse. Adam and I discovered quickly that Waterville was not the 3rd world, foreign country many people made it out to be, but that it was actually a rather nice little town.

Contrary to the advice and opinions of many of our friends and family, we made the seemingly irrational decision to buy the old fixer-upper and move to the tiny, "po-dunk" town. Now here we are, a couple of Waterville newbies; the ones nobody really knows but that most everyone has noticed.

Through this column, you can join us on our journey, as we discover the ups and downs of life in a small town.

Waterville Days

Well, I think Adam and I can officially call ourselves "locals," considering that it is our third summer living in Waterville and we finally made it to Waterville Days! It's an event that we've been meaning to attend since we moved here, but we seem to forget about it every year. Honestly, we would have missed it again this year, but we just happened to be home, working outside when we noticed that there was quite a bit of traffic in town. 

We made our way across the street just in time to see the parade come through. I giggled uncontrollably as the procession of mini-tractors and lawnmowers began to pass, followed by a single horseback rider and a pretty cool old John Deere. Other entries included Steven Jenkins, Candidate for Douglas County Commissioner, Waterville Family Grocery, the Waterville Ambulance and, of course, what parade would be complete without the fire trucks! It was a tiny, twice-around-the-block kind of parade, quaintly executed in true small-town style!

After the parade, Adam and I took some time to peruse the vendors in the park exhibiting various wares for sale and we took a stroll through a small car show featuring several antique and some not-so-antique automobiles. It really didn't take long for us to see everything there was to see, so we sat in the grass for a while, enjoying a sno-cone and some pretty excellent live entertainment before heading home.

It was a fun little event and I'm glad we didn't miss it completely this year. Hopefully next year we'll be a little more on-the-ball so we can experience the early morning Fly-In Breakfast (I have no idea what that is) and the Horseshoe Tournament.

Waterville Demolition Derby

    I don't know what it is about the Demolition Derby that makes me feel so excited. Maybe it's the hilariously beat-up cars, or the absolutely whipped sound of their engines. I suppose it could be the fact that the Town of Waterville practically empties out as folks funnel into the fairgrounds or the announcer with the endless supply of corny jokes. Whatever the draw, I look forward to the derby every year.

    The festivities begin with a visual showcase. Five or six 'lovely' cars line up in front of the grand stands along with their sponsors and pit crew members, and the crowd has the opportunity to vote for their favorite. The judges determine the showcase winner based on the loudness of the crowd's applause. Cars are eliminated, one by one, until only two cars remain. This year it was a close competition between a ridiculously beat-up Ford pick-up, which was obviously a derby veteran, and a Chevy truck, which was nicely painted Orange with the Unocal 76 logo. The 76 truck won, of course. (The orange 76-mobiles seem to dominate every year.)

    The showcase is followed by a series of races. I crack up every time the officials wave the green flag and the drivers floor it, causing an eruption of totally unnecessary engine noise. They whip around corners flinging dirt in every direction, deliberately ramming disabled cars and diverting any leaders within bumping distance. You can't really see the drivers so, for me, each car takes on its own personality. I find myself feeling bad for the poor cars that get stuck or that break down in the middle of a race. This year it seemed like every race had a tire casualty! Many tires simply went flat, while others shredded to pieces. One tire exploded so loudly it startled the crowd and another cleanly detached itself from the wheel plopping itself right in the middle of the track. Nevertheless, each driver continued on, spinning their naked wheels as fast as their smoking engines would carry them. In the final race, one car lost its rear passenger wheel and as the driver continued around the track, the entire driver side rear wheel and axle assembly flew out of the side of the car prompting a hearty laughing fit from my friends and me.

    The final, most anticipated event is the demolition derby. It is an uproarious free-for-all, in which each participating driver makes their best attempt to disable the other vehicles in the arena. The last car running wins. Unfortunately, this year's demolition derby ended far too quickly. One car never even got rolling and a single high-speed ram from car number 27 took three others out in the first fifteen seconds. Another high speed crash caused an engine fire, which stopped the action briefly, and sadly within a few short minutes the demolition derby was over. Car 27 celebrated its victory with a final crunching blow to its only lasting competitor, a nicely painted car resembling the American flag.

 
    The evening ended with an awesome fireworks display accompanied by patriotic country music. I absolutely love 4th of July (or in this case, 3rd of July) fireworks. There's just something about the patriotism that is invoked and the feeling of unity that stirs in me a sense of pride and thankfulness. I am thankful for those who served and for those who died and I am proud of our current service men and women who risk their lives to protect our freedom. Thank you so much, Waterville, for a wonderful evening. I'm already looking forward to next year!