Discover Walla Walla

"They're not changing anything are they?"

"Don't know."

"I can't see what they're doing in there with all that brown paper in the windows. Why are they hiding what they're doing in there? Must be changing things. I'm not going in there if they change anything."

"Guess they don't want our advice."

"Shoot, I been in there every day for the past 20 years. You'd think they'd want to know what I think. I'd tell 'em if they asked. Yes, sir. I'd tell 'em not to change a thing. This place is an institution. Can't just go changing everything, you know."

"Nothing?"

"Well, they could update the bathrooms. Those need some work."

"That's all?"

"And some light upstairs. Can't see a thing up there. And the awning. It's seen better days. And I'd keep a good baker in there. I like the cinnamon rolls. You don't think they'll get rid of the cinnamon rolls, do you?"

"Don't know..."

"And they could do some repainting. And it'd be nice if they got rid of the yelling-that ‘Jack of Spades' stuff. Hurts my ears. And menus would be good. They better keep spaghetti night. I'm not going in there if they get rid of spaghetti night."

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A few weeks ago, on a beautiful sunny afternoon, I took the opportunity for an afternoon drive in the sunshine. The early signs of spring were all around me, including my own garden pushing up leaves that would soon belong to buds of daffodils and tulips.

My car headed south to the Washington/Oregon border and I let my car take me to the vineyards. I finally stopped at one of the first commercial vineyards in the Walla Walla Valley AVA. This large vineyard is also known as being one of the ten great vineyards in the world - the Seven Hills Vineyard. It was there, looking over a hillside of over 200-acres of vineyards, that I was assured that spring was definitely on the way. The old skeleton-like vines from last year's harvest had now been pruned and many more vines were waiting their turn. These newly pruned vines, with help from more rain and sunshine, will soon start bearing new spurs of vines, leaves and eventually, clusters of grapes.

During my drive I was reminded of the old Bible verse: "To every thing there is a season, ... a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted ..." I was also reminded that the wheat farmers would be planting soon and thought about the several generations of family wheat ranchers in the Walla Walla area. When the vineyards "came to town", they weren't exactly greeted with enthusiasm by everyone. In many ways it was reminiscent of the American west cattle and sheep range wars. Most of the dust has settled by now between wheat farmer and vineyard owner.

Like wheat farmers before, family owned vineyards are raising their own generations of caretakers for their crops. Don and Nicole Redman of Mannina Cellars, along with their children and dog, Lucy make pruning of Cabernet Sauvignon vines a weekend family event. Just the photo alone of the Redman family shows that in spite of the differences between vineyard owners and wheat farmers, they are still very much the same, after all.

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Matthew Palumbo carves a sharp figure as he thunderously strikes the ivory of the grand piano resting on the stage of the Melvin K. West Fine Arts Auditorium, the muscles on his sculpted forearms pulsating with each chord. The 21-year-old Palumbo, decked out fully in black --short sleeved shirt, tuxedo pants, shoes and socks to go with his jet black thatch hair, prior to his evening, has performed with Andre Watts, Van Cliburn, Alexander Kobrin and Yong Hi Moon, not to mention winning top prize at the Northwest Chopin Competition, Sherman Clay's Bach Competition and the Seattle Young Artists Music Festival.

Tonight, though, on the Spartan stage of the "West Fine Auditorium," Palumbo is performing his Junior Recital, as he continues to study at Walla Walla University under the tutelage of Dr. Leonard Richter, worlds away from large concert halls and renowned artists. Yet, Palumbo plays with such voraciousness that at times he runs his fingers along the ivory as if he can't devour the notes fast enough for his liking and his joy of playing is not linked to the size of the crowd or the presence of a virtuoso. No, Matthew Palumbo merely loves to play classical piano and the guests and family members gathered in this snug auditorium are lucky enough to be treated to a passion-filled hour that displays the full array of Mr. Palumbo's enormous talent.

Palumbo opens with Barber's Ballade, Op. 56, which perfectly matches his all black attire. After finishing the dark piece, Palumbo sits for several seconds, as if in a trance, as if he has entered Barber's world before awakening and rising from his bench to take his bow. Palumbo shows his impressive dexterity in the second piece, Bach's Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, but by the finish, this observer is wondering if there is any softness or delicacy to go along with these nimble fingers.

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After a brief hiatus, the Bürgermeister is happy to be back on the circuit, with a special report from Umapine, OR. Yes, it was time to revisit the Water Hole Tavern and sample the Big Beefy Burger once again.

For Walla Wallans who have been spoiled by the close proximity of everything, the Water Hole can seem like a trek. We'll get the directions out of the way: Take Highway 11 as if you're headed to Milton-Freewater, and make a right at Stateline. Continue on for five miles (you may suspect erroneous directions at this point in your journey, as even the farmhouses start to disappear and you are cruising through vistas of rolling farmland that do not bode well for the hungry), and look for a road on the lefthand side marked only with a green street sign that says "UMAPINE RD." (Now, Google Maps shows this as Umapine Stateline Highway, but we found no on-the-ground corroboration for this.)

Take this road south for two miles and you will find yourself at an intersection with a stop sign. On your far right is a beautiful old school building that, last we heard, was being converted into a foundry. On your left on the opposite side of the road you should be able to see Tate's Mercantile, and the Water Hole is directly on your left on the near side.

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So the groundhog saw his shadow this year, huh?  Six more weeks of winter.  Everyone cringes to hear it.  Even here in Walla Walla, where we’ve had one of the most mild winters since I’ve been here (which has now been nearly a decade; I can’t believe it!).  Lots of fog, yes.  A little rain, sure.  And even a bit of snow, albeit a tad less than usual.  But nothing hardcore; not even the temperatures gave us much to complain about this year. 

Me?  I don’t buy it.  First of all, we had several 60-degree days in mid-January.  I strode down the sidewalks without a jacket on and was comfortably warm, soaking up the sun. 

Secondly, I hear birds.  In the morning when I get up, there’s chirping.  The kingfisher is back, hunting for meals around the branch of the Little Walla Walla River that runs in front of my house.  Granted, I haven’t yet seen my first robin of the year, but I’m prepared to welcome her any day now. 

Thirdly, my bulbs are coming up.  The daffodils are frighteningly close to blooming, and I’m already greeted by deep purple crocuses every morning as I climb the steps to my office.

Really, what does a groundhog know, anyway?

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