Dispatch from Dog Bar: Part I

Dog Bar is the name of the main road that snakes through my new neighborhood here in Grass Valley.  It has a history that goes back to at least 1850 as one of the main turnpikes into the gold fields and it was probably named for the dog-leg bend in the nearby Bear River.  I see it as good omen for my relocation of Dog Art Today, and I love that I can see the Dog Bar Road signpost as I look out my window and attempt to capture what it feels like to live up here in Gold Country.  A wormhole (a hypothetical tunnel connecting two different parts in spacetime) is the best analogy I have come up with.  But I still can't decide if I have gone back in time to wood-burning stoves or forward in time to post-apocalyptic self-sufficiency.  Or perhaps I have simply popped up in a parallel universe.  Needless to say, I am still getting my bearings.

Overall I love it here.  Things are quiet, but intense.  There is so much activity that I have joked that I need to get back to the city to find some relaxation.  You see people here are "do-ers."  For example on July 4th they don't serve hot dogs and hamburgers, they roast a whole pig or a side of beef.  There are farmers' markets every two days and a street fair once a week.  Swimming in the river or a hike in the mines might fill up a slow morning.

Sometimes I can't help but feeling like a lazy barbarian with my Saran Wrap and my desire to have heat installed before the first frost.  I step on the hose when I water, and I am not sure what to do with the compost pile accumulating in my back yard.  I had a meltdown at K-Mart when I had to choose a nozzle.  The nozzle, you see, is a very personal decision each gardener must make for herself.  I call myself a gardener because yesterday I planted eight tomato seedlings.  They were given to me by my neighbor who has a magnificent garden, but one day aspires to farm several acres using a horse and plow — can you see my confusion about which direction I have traveled?

The above photo was taken Saturday night at the Naggiar Winery, several miles up the road.  I went with my sister and brother-in-law to a screening of "Bottle Shock", a film about the 1976 triumph of California wines at a blind tasting in Paris.  We picnicked, enjoyed discovering our new favorite white wine (Viognier) and oooooed and ahhhed at the double rainbows arcing above us.  I felt like I was in Italy.  But it was better than Italy, because I was home.

Once I find my camera in the boxes still to be unpacked, Darby and I will head out on some adventures and post about them here in my new series, "Dispatches from Dog Bar."  Any tips from local readers would be greatly appreciated.