On Friday my husband and I and our two dogs are all piling into our car and heading north on the I-5 out of L.A., destination: Sisters, Oregon. We’re leaving at 5 A.M. (well, between 5 & 6) to avoid traffic and get through the hottest part of the state before noon. About half way through the day, when we get up near the Bay Area, we’ll take a left off the 5, go west on the 580 and stop in Pleasanton to pick up our son, who’ll be waiting at the BART station with his backpack to climb in and join the troop. By early evening we hope to reach our stop in Dunsmuir at the foot of Mt. Shasta and relax at the Cave Springs Resort (rather rustic, but right on the Sacramento River under some tall pines).

In the morning, after breakfast and the obligatory dog walk, we’ll keep driving north (with a possible detour for a dip in a hot springs), over the California-Oregon border, pass by Crater Lake and all the while more and more trees, more and more green and above—those clear, blue skies that just make ya wanna dance or sing or cry, depending on the moment. We should roll into Bend by about 3 or 4; hit the health food store to stock up for the weekend and then the last twenty miles west, where the mountains will rise into view with their white cover and startling majesty.

When we come into Sisters we’ll take a slow turn right onto Camp Polk Road, drive three miles past the Sisters airstrip on the right, Indian Ford Ranch on the left then curve right, turn left at Sage Meadows. We’ll pull up into the driveway, park the car under the Ponderosa Pines, with the aspens and wildflower meadow to greet us. The doors will open and the dogs and the three of us will pour out, exhausted and exalted. And, there we will rest for the week. And play. And walk. And watch for deer and geese and owls and eagles. And look up at a million stars at night. And breathe deeply. And be thankful. Be so thankful.

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Mt. Jefferson and the meadow from our yard.

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The house in Sage Meadows