Discover Walla Walla

Living in the Pacific Northwest has really opened my eyes to a lot of things I probably wouldn't otherwise have thought of. Being this close to Portland, Ore., which is probably one of the "green"-est cities in the country, makes it difficult to not consider the environment in nearly everything I do. And fortunately, the residents of the Walla Walla Valley do a fabulous job of following the larger city's example.

I've written in the past about the wind turbines that have made the hills to the west of the valley iconic. While it is of course on a much smaller scale than Portland, the Walla Walla Valley is continually taking steps toward becoming as "green" as it can be, and this is just one more reason I love being able to call this valley home.

With the warmer weather in the spring and summer come not only lovebirds and lilacs, but also bicycles on nearly every artery and side street in the valley. I frequently see parents pulling kids in bike trailers, couples biking down a country road, groups of street bike racers in colourful jerseys, and college students with Wal-Mart bags swinging from their handlebars. I also know several people who regularly opt for the two-wheel option when headed to work, leaving their cars at home.

Wind turbines, public transportation, green space, recycling programs, an environmentally conscious public... We may not be a big city, but we can make a big difference by the choices we make. Walla Walla, you're doing it right.

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When I was in college, I made a list of things I want to do before I die.  There are simple things, such as stop by the large antiques and fruit stand on the freeway between Walla Walla and Yakima, or driving a tractor.  Then there are things I’ve already done, such as visit London, or become a mother.  And finally, there are the complicated things; things that may or may not present an opportunity between now and when I’m laid to rest.  Things like riding in a hot air balloon.

The Walla Walla Balloon Stampede is one of those traditions that’s been around longer than I have.  It’s an automatic mood-lifter to head to work and discover two dozen hot air balloons watching your commute from the clouds.  As you get closer to them, the colours stand out: Bright blues, brilliant reds, stunning greens, cheerful yellows, royal purples and shimmering golds.

I always wonder about the people in the baskets beneath those bewitching orbs drifting high above my head.  How old are they?  How many are in each one?  Where are they from?  What made them buy a balloon?  Where did they learn to fly one?  How do they know each other?  When will they take me up?

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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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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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Every time I drive through downtown Walla Walla I'm scared I'll get into an accident.  That may not sound like a pleasant introduction to this wonderful little city, but let me explain.

Walla Walla is one of the most beautiful little towns I've ever experienced and every time I drive through its charming downtown (especially Main Street) I'm struck by its simple elegance and preserved history.

Then there are the people.

While stopped at one of many stoplights, I note two gentlemen on the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to allow them to proceed.  They're as different as can be.  One is older, perhaps 60, experienced in life and ready to relax and enjoy a slower pace.  His walking shoes are worn and his simple garb includes a black windbreaker and a plain black baseball cap.  He didn't bother to shave this morning.

The other is closer to my age, probably not yet 30, clean-shaven, gelled hair, brand new tie flapping in the breeze.  His hands are stuffed into his suit coat pockets (probably to ward off the chill of the winter wind), and his shiny businessman shoes are stylish and classy.

The light turns green.  I press on the gas pedal, the two men start across the road, one significantly more hurried than the other.

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Perhaps it's because I'm an Anglophile, or maybe it's the other way around, but I am certainly a true Pacific Northwesterner. I love fog.

While a lot of Walla Walla residents revel in the summer sun (albeit most often from their air conditioned homes, cars and offices), they often grumble about the winter weather. What, you don't like soggy pant cuffs and spotted glasses? You don't enjoy digging your car out of several inches of ice-encrusted snow at 7:30 a.m.?

Yeah, me neither. But the fog...I must admit it generally makes me smile.

I think it's the mystery of it all: How it turns the once-familiar world around me into a dreamy, fairy cloud-land; how it transforms the stark, leafless trees into regal statues, stretching high above me and disappearing into the mist; how the edges of the fields are softened and the hills surrounding them rise into the unknown.

Or maybe it's just the warm fuzzy feeling I get from looking out my window and daydreaming about a cozy fire, a good book and a hot mug of tea - or better yet, the days when that can be reality! After, all, that's what winter is all about.

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It was a chilly fall morning in Walla Walla.  At six a.m. I donned my jogging pants, thick socks, and a jacket, tied my jogging shoes, and slipped quietly out the front door.  The yard, still shaded from the morning sun by my house and a few yellowing trees, crunched under my steps.  My shoes left footprints in the frosty grass.

I took a deep breath of the autumn air and thought to myself that although it was cliché, it was true - the air was crisp.  It was probably 20 degrees outside, and though it was a weekday, there were surprisingly few people up and about that early.

As I worked up to a slow jog, I plotted my path for the morning.  I had started walking and jogging only a couple of months prior, and was up to about a two-mile loop.  I enjoyed morning walks the best; it was quiet and somehow inspirational. 

My route took me across one of the busiest roads in town, past some well-manicured lawns and browning flowerbeds, along a gurgling roadside creek, and past an apartment I'd lived in just after college. 

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I'm an amateur photographer.  Or maybe I should make that a wannabe photographer.  I love taking pictures, but I really know nothing about photography.  So when I get a nice shot, it's probably more luck than anything, especially with my little point-and-shoot digital camera. 

One of my favorite places to take pictures is on Main Street.  The street is lined with beautiful old renovated buildings with lots of character.  Our Macy's is actually an old theatre, with sloped floors and tall ceilings.   Some of the buildings still have traces of the original shop name painted on the bricks.  Others house shops that have been in business for decades, such as Bright's Candies, a fabulous little candy shop that sells chocolates, ice cream, Jelly Belly candy, and more.

There are two prime times for walking and taking pictures downtown.  Christmas is an obvious one, with all the warm lights and festive window displays.  The other is right about now: Autumn.  The trees are turning color and losing their leaves, the sky is ever-changing, and the atmosphere is cozy and homey.  

The best way to enjoy a stroll along Main Street in the fall is to start at the west end and make your way east to Starbucks.  Stop inside for your favorite hot beverage and then take it with you as you continue your tour of one of the busiest streets in the Walla Walla valley. 

But most of all, take your time.  And don't forget to look up.

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Like eating a good meal, riding a bicycle can be a savory experience. Autumn in the Walla Walla Valley offers its special entrees.

The local trees and foliage provide wonderful fall colors like those of a carefully crafted meal. No need to travel to New England for postcard perfect pictures. Touring neighborhoods in and around Walla Walla from a bike can provide you with a seat at the ‘Chef's Table.'

Easy rides from town with varying mileage will take the cyclist on roads through harvested fields. Local crops include wheat, Walla Walla sweet onions and grapes. Most of the fields are freshly harvested, leaving behind pleasant aromas for the touring cyclist.

The wildlife is resplendent in the fall. White tail and mule deer are common. Practiced eyes can spot owls and other raptors. Coyotes, fox and even black bear are occasional sitings.

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A little while ago, Annie came out on the porch to sit with me. We're drinking a glass of good Walla Walla wine, eating a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs-Annie's favorite meal-and watching the light change as the sun goes down.

Annie just noticed some new lights on the ridge south of us and got the binoculars.

"Another dern house," she said. "Lordy, Lordy, Lordy. We moved out here on the prairie to get away from the crowds and here folks come, moving in around us. We might have to move further out if this keeps up."

"Hmm," I thought. "That's interesting."

As the crow flies that new house is at least three miles from here. We can't see it without the binoculars.

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