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I know the words to the first verse of our National Anthem having been taught them in grade school, along with all the patriotic songs and military theme songs. I like to sing them. Every year at a big Veteran’s Day concert here, all the military songs are played and you are asked to stand during any service branch that your family had veterans in. I always stand for the Caisson Song and a few tears appear as I remember Daddy.

But back to the National Anthem, now that I think about it, I’m a little unclear why it is sung before sporting events these days. This started during WWII when it roused patriotism and unity during a terrifying time in our history. Then everyone, even the athletes, knew the words and stood and sang them. Now, no one seems to know the admittedly strange words to the first verse let along the very troublesome words to the other verses. The only one who sings is a warbling popular vocalist who butchers the music. Standing had become a tradition, not a requirement. As a child of WWII, I will always stand and sing, but I have never seen kneeling as disrespectful.

Summer in Oregon is beautiful. I have often said I wish I could just stay here all summer, and this year, I did. Didn’t leave the state the entire time.

It was all about enjoying friends and family and lots and lots of smooth kayaking on our beautiful rivers.

Well, things started out with a bit of a tumble when my dear friend Roxanne ended up here after a day of kayaking:

It was quite an ordeal and she continues to recover. I am so grateful we have such a large, excellent hospital in the neighborhood. (I was back there yesterday for my annual mammogram, but I digress.)

Some minor but very sweet things: The tiny yellow rose Meg bought me when she came here from Maui for daughterly nursing duties re-bloomed.

A colorful family moved into the neighborhood and often walk to the little park up the hill.

Roxie missed out on a lot of the kayaking trips this season while keeping her wound dry following a little surgery. She often has to compete with the lap top for her favorite position on my lap.

So many beautiful places to paddle. This is a stretch of the Santiam between Foster Reservoir and Green Peter.

My faithful, long-time paddling buddy, Dave, and I enjoyed cooling off on some unusually hot days.

This is one of Dave’s favorite ways to cool off:

That sweet dog Jack came to visit a couple of times. He brings his own bed; however, as you can see, he and Roxie prefer each other’s.

I think this shot of a back alley in my neighborhood is iconic of our diversity: A Prius and some jet skis charging up side by side:

Needless to say, the highlight of the summer here at the 45th parallel north was the total eclipse of the sun

even though the crowds that were much over-hyped to descend and clog up our valley, that did not occur.

Some campers did set up their tents at the Minto the night before for a good early-morning view.

Boo and Roxie tried out their viewing glasses the day before.

And Boo set up her tripod to get some amazing shots.

This one is particularly amazing:

We decided to honor the feminine moon’s part in this event by decorating the table with womanly objects:

Then we popped open a bottle of champagne:

We did find time for Elizabeth to paddle three rivers all in one day.

After which we revived ourselves with our traditional “cake for dinner” foray from Konditorei. This is my personal fave.

Not everyone was blessed with our lovely Oregon weather. Tragedy struck our southern shores with horrific weather. Of all the pictures I saw of Harvey and Irma, this one touched me the most — a mother put her babe in a tiny waterproof ark. A modern-day Moses waiting to be rescued.

Now, here in mid-September, the temps are down just a bit and the first fall showers are predicted for next week. And annual end- of-summer events took place.

Mass on the Grass with Brass at St.Paul’s.

Football games near and far. I am the only one on my block who does not hang out either a green and gold or orange and black wind sock:

Here neighbors begin to arrive in front of 1880 for our annual block party:

We can often keep paddling well into October, but this spot is a favorite after all the campers have gone home. This site, sometimes referred to as Horton Pond, Hult Marsh, Hult Reservoir, or Mill Pond, was developed in the early 1900s for logging operations. The reservoir and surrounding wetland is about 40 acres and supports a rich diversity of wildlife, fish, and plant species. I know that some places 40 acres would be referred to as a lake, but not here. It took us less than three hours to paddle the circumference at a leisurely pace.

Not much wildlife this time, but we did spot a beaver and some of his recent efforts.

Back home, the roses are showing off what might be their last bloom of the year and the Handsome Man is once again resuming his rain gauge duties.

As for me, my early fall duties include going back to choir practice and turning off the sprinklers as some showers are predicted tomorrow. In an attempt to conserve water, I let much of the lawn go brown this year anyway. And I no longer do the windows myself since one of my daughters suggested that perhaps I should stay off ladders. So I had Krista come over and do it. They are so clean, I feel like I am seeing the world in HD.