Red Ridge Farms

(why you will wish you lived here)

Last summer I took off on my scooter one afternoon to get out on the open road like a real American and waste gas for the fun of it. The open road, as it turned out, was a curvaceous affair with a high wind factor and even though I could keep up with the traffic just fine, every time another vehicle passed me on the road I could feel the sheer power of them shake up my little 150cc motor. When I want thrills I move to a whole new state, I don't look for danger. I got just past Lafayette when I started looking hungrily for a turnoff to a country road. The kind of road that no one goes on unless they have to. I found it right before Dayton.

I drove down a road surrounded on both sides by high banks of blackberries which I could smell ripening in the sun even as I buzzed past them breaking the pretty quiet like the scourge I am. I climbed the road as it headed up a hill covered in vineyards. Near the top I saw a sign for Red Ridge Farms and it was so charming, I had to stop. I must note that the driveway was loose gravel and I almost hurled myself, vehicle and all, off the edge of their driveway down into the valley of lavender they had planted below. Not exactly an elegant entrance.

I spent an enchanted forty five minutes exploring their nursery and their store which is filled with wonderful books on cooking with herbs, wonderful home accents in aged iron (I know, very predictable to fall for aged iron, but so what?) They have gorgeous soaps, cards, tea pots, and even some teas made by the farm itself. Very posh, very relaxing, very much a warm and wonderful place to daydream.

When I told my mom about it she said she had to see it. So today, after an hour of working very hard packing up merchandise in the store, we headed out to Dayton. It didn't disappoint her I'm happy to say. It's one of those places that make you glad you live here, if you do, and wish you lived here if you don't.

One of their big projects is growing olives here in the Pacific Northwest. They only grow Arbequinas and I was naturally very interested in this since I come from Northern California where it was my dream to grow a couple of olive trees for curing the fruits. I let go of my olive dreams when we moved to the Pacific Northwest because olives like it hot and DRY. While it does get quite hot here, it is only dry for a few months. Some people like to say it is never dry here, but those people are mean and just don't want you to move here because it's the best place on earth. Apparently Arbequinas can tolerate our cooler wetter climate.

They had some olive oil out for tasting made from Arbequinas grown in California. It was very green and grassy. I prefer my olive oils to be buttery and rich. We got to talking to the very friendly staff (and possibly one or two of the owners...who can tell?) and they really didn't have their olive-speak down. We asked what Arbequinas are like to eat cured? They had no idea how to describe any olive flavor let alone one olive compared to another one.

I don't hold it against them though. You can't really hold anything against anyone in a landscape like this, can you? I know I can't. This is their knot garden full of herbs and flowers. They had a huge bed of echinacea, an even bigger bed of calendula, and (of course) lavender.

You have to breath deeply in a spot like this. The flowers make you do it whether you are an anxious person prone to shallow breathing or not. You do it because when your eye takes in this incredible color and beauty your lungs, heart, and blood want some of the action too.

Don't you love what a zoom lens will reveal? I really enjoyed seeing these weeds cropping up into the gorgeousness because too much beauty and order in one place is obnoxious. I always love the little element that delivers me back to earth. There's the ugly squished in with the gorgeous, which is exactly as life is in my opinion. Better to see the evils than have them be silent and invisible.

I bought a jar of Arbequina olives cured in brine, a bath sachet (for study and for use), and a bar of Pre De Provence soap- one of my favorite brands.