As we headed north, the sun was hot. The golden hillsides attested to that.
Orchards and crops lined the roads. Strange crops that I had not see before. The brilliant yellow fields were too bright for the grains I know. Eventually, I learned it was rice. Rice. Admittedly, I thought rice only grew in wet places which California is not! I learned that now only does rice grow in here, California is the second top producer of rice in the United States.
Orchards filled with nuts, olives, and fruit also abounded, but figuring out what was growing on the trees was tricky.
Red Bluff, California was our destination.
In 1958 my father looked out over this valley. His aunt and her family had just built their home on the hill.
Now his cousin lives here. He welcomed us warmly though we had never met him. I just had his name when I called a year ago as I was trying to uncover family history. He answered and confirmed he was my grandfather's nephew.
He shared stores and memories.
Ice skates. He still has his mother's ice skates. I loved this story. Grandpa loved to ice skate. He grew up skating on Owl Creek (which meanders through the family homestead) with his sisters. His oldest sister never parted with her ice skates although she lived in California where the water never freezes. I suspect fond childhood memories kept the skates in a special place all these years and now the next generation honors that place too wondering what story those skates could tell...but without words they merely tantalize the imagination of a mother's Dakota prairie childhood.
More local family members trickled in to meet us and share glimpses of their lives. It is time for a family reunion...to bring us all together...and bring the stories together...
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