Today is totally different: Musings on weather differences between Talent and La Pine

Last winter, white was all I could see for MILES. Literally. I never dealt with snow as a child, not unless we drove up to Mt Ashland for an afternoon of sledding.
My street -

From snow day

My back porch last winter.

It seem to me that the lovely, peaceful, even inspiring winter days are in December. They can be totally silent and white, every flaw and bump are smoothed over in white. It looks clean, pristine, untouched.
By the end of February here, it's as though Winter has suddenly realized Spring is trying to sneak it's way in and fights back violently. Stiff winds are bending the giant pines, whipping pellets of snow around in frenzied flurries, and forcing a chill into any opening of your clothes, no matter how small and seemingly well covered.
I grew up in the Rogue Valley, where winter is wet and dropping below 20 degrees is unusual and even exciting. Snow falls are a thing of wonder there. The soil is black, fertile, and thick like clay and things are always growing. Even if you want them to die.
Now I live in High Desert, 200 miles further north and I am fascinated by the differences. It's cooler here in the summer, has the shortest growing period of any place south of Alaska and the soil is more like the beach. It brings to mind the differences of my childhood home and my hew home in La Pine.
In Talent, I used to watch for the beautiful blooming of the orchards in spring, I remember the smoke from the heaters under the trees and the sounds of the wind machines being started up. Here, Spring doesn't make itself known til much later and it's not unusual to see a snowfall as late as the beginning of June. Oh yes, last year and the year before - JUNE.
The wildlife are different as well. Back home, I saw swallows and scrub jays everywhere, even the occasional gull, some cranes living in the marshy areas around the ponds, possum and racoons near the many creeks and small farms around the outer edges of town. Coyotes yipping at night in the hills to the south end of the valley, deer eating early buds and flower bulbs.

Here, I see deer as well, lots of them, along with some elk. But I have also seen foxes, bold, scolding silver squirrels as large as a housecat, heard mountain lions and coyotes, and spotted this weird critter called a rock chuck. I have yet to see any swallows, but I've seen masses of tittering finches and graceful doves, as well as quail by the dozens.
The flowering plants and greenery may be more rare here, but the colors are amazing, so many shades of red, blue, yellow and white, some determined and hardy bushes and flowers growing right out of volcanic rock... amazing to me.
Don't get me wrong. I will always long for the black soil and wild growth of greenery everywhere. Nothing takes my breath away quite as much as standing in acres of pear orchards among the blowing petals or picking elderberries or murels among the ferns in the mountains, standing on the soft, spongy loam in a deep green forest, breathing in the mixed scents of fresh water, pine, oak, and fertile earth.
But our home now holds a special place in my heart. I've come to love the cool breezes off the river in the middle of the summer heat, the long sunny days, the dry heat, the suddeness with which life springs up after a rain. Unless I'm are in Bend, the feeling here has always been so free and roomy to me, and even in Bend there are parks and playgrounds everywhere and even the malls are outdoor and open-air.
My heart will always belong to my beloved Rogue Valley, but I have learned to love the high desert as well and I am very happy here.
Here is a picture of Talent taken by a paraglider ( I found it on a blog)

And a pear orchard in bloom

Near my home in La Pine, of the Deschutes river fog. I drive through there every time I come home and I found this gorgeous picture on a blog as well.