We go to the farm on Wednesdays because we don’t have gym that day, don’t have banjo, don’t have golf, and it feels like a weekend. Road trip! There’s always something to do now, although it isn’t yet something we have to do. That day’s coming, by the way.

So we’re off. Coffee first from the Safeway at Starbucks, where Larry has his barista girlfriends. Down I-5, listening to NPR. At about Wilsonville we turn off the radio and just drive. Not yet time for the story we’re listening to, nor is the the scenery yet seductive, so we just exist, sipping the last of our coffee, passing trucks, maybe talking, maybe not.

This particular Wednesday’s chores begin at Del’s Farm store in Philomath where we buy a roll of woven fencing wire. We’d been cautioned by Vik and Gordon that our fledgling lilac would be one-bite dessert to some passing deer. Then friend Nancy chimed in, confirming same, adding the observation that folks near Twickenham protect their lilacs by caging them in wire mesh. We add a couple of stakes and plastic clips to the purchase, hoping the deer have given us another week to come to our senses. Here’s to friends!

The main event of the day was a ramble about our property looking for wild flowers with our consultant, Steve Smith. We set off on a tour, aided by the stick Larry had crafted to get us across the hot-wire fence without incident. Unfortunately, I left my iMini behind, so didn’t photograph the splendor of woodland buttercup and camas in bloom. Yellow and purple under the new-fledged oak and ash. I may have been more enchanted, had not our herd of cows been so eager to greet us, to surround us. What on earth were we there for, if not to feed them something delicious? We put the fence between us and them, hoping the silly little two strands of wire would be enough to deter them if they were really really hungry.

We hadn’t been on this bit of land before, erroneously thinking our property ended at the oxbow of the creek. But now that the water has receded, we stepped across into magic. The creek rushes by, we saw a fish rise, and all those flowers! Steve insists that there are cutthroat there for the taking. I suggested that Larry might invite Robb to go fishing Sunday instead of playing their usual round of golf. He said he’d have to catch one first. Sorry Robb!

Steve had arranged for us to visit the neighboring property, Tyee Vinyards, where they’ve been working on wetlands conservation with Fish and Wildlife for years now. We might see what could be possible for us. Pulled on our boots and were on the way down Bell Fountain Road. (At first, we insisted on pronouncing it “Belle Fontaine” but have had to get real. Look at how it’s spelled. Duh.)

At first I’m thinking “You should be here! This is amazing!” Taking photos, because you aren’t here, are you? First we walk through an ancient filbert orchard, carpeted with flowers whose name, of course, I can’t remember just now.

Then it got a little dicey. Humphrey Bogart and the African Queen around the next corner. And are there snakes in here?

Or maybe even alligators? No, just birdsong, the crunch of rye grass underfoot. And then, finally, there was Bob, just where we’d parked him. Whew. Tyee hosts musical events in the summer. A stage, bands, picnics. Got to check this out!

On Saturday, if things line up, we’ll visit another property where the owners manage grazing in a way that we might emulate. As cows seem to be in our future. Steve has been working with Fish and Wildlife to generate a conservation plan that we can use to guide us on this beautiful piece of land we’ve stumbled into owning. This evening, we got a phone call from The Godsend, Paul, who’s kite-boarding somewhere in Texas. We had a silly little question about the orchard, shot him an email, and he responds. In the middle of his vacation. In Texas. Wow.