As I type this the last few flushes of grape stompers are trying their toes at the annual Willamette Valley Vineyards Grape Stomp down in Turner, OR.

The grape stomp is one of those Oregon activities you have to do once in your lifetime. I’ve had it on my list for quite a while, but until now I’ve always been too tired, too pregnant, or too not-in-town to participate.

This year was different. I had some grape plans to bone up on my stomping skills in preparation for this year’s event. You see, we have some liabilities as stompers to begin with. For one, I wear a size 6.5 shoe. Without webbed feet, or larger feet, I’d surely be at a disadvantage.

I’d like to say that I was listening to the theme song from Rocky to prepare, pretending to run the steps of the Philadephia Museum of Art to get my legs pumping in just the right foot-to-grape ratio. But we pretty much rolled up the hill at the last possible moment for our 11:00 flush. There were about a dozen other teams already in their barrels and one lonely barrel left in the middle of the row. I jumped in and Adam squatted down near the pipe to swab the opening and catch this juice.

This would be our big mistake — choosing this particular barrel.

I thought maybe I’d be caught up in the thrill of it, that the stompers aside me would throw my competitive bent into overdrive. But really, it was strangely meditative. I had my hands on my husband’s shoulders for support and we were working together like a machine. The grapes were soft and juice and popped easily under pressure. Within a few minutes I had stomped through them and all that was left was pulpy grape skin.

Adam noticed a tad late that the swabber has another job.

“Hey, that guy has his hands in the barrel!” he said.

Sure enough, the swabber’s role, it seems, is also to press the grapes out and usher the juice to the hole, not just catch the juice, as we had been told.

Yes, we lost, by a very large number. But at least we got to see a couple people get disqualified for not pulling their jugs awaywhen the ending whistle blew. Eat it suckers!

So, for your next grape stomp, may I propose some Strategic Tactics that do not Involve Listening to “Stomp!”

1. Arrive early and choose your barrel stratically
2. Have the person with larger feet do the stomping
3. Keep as much pulp as possible from going through your hole (the pulp gets funneled out before the juice gets weighed)
4. Don’t get yourself disqualified by doing something as stupid as not following directions
5. Don’t follow directions and have your swabber press out the juice and move it towards the hole
6. Have fun!

We certainly managed #6.

My friend Chris says this image of our neighbor’s leftover grapes looks like the world (our barrel barely had anything left in it; no joke).

Adam getting our juice weighed after the stomp. We already knew we had lost, but not going through procedure would just be sour grapes.

My feet after the stomp. It wasn’t as messy as I had anticipated. Also, wine glass for tasting wines afterwards comes with the $10 entry fee. May I suggest the Willamette Valley Vineyards Elton Estate for your next big event?

Besides all of the great times, I got this wonderful graphic from my friend Ryan Rogers, who told me that pic of me in the barrel makes me look like some kind of Award Ceremony statuette. He promptly put together a golden statuette Emily graphic. Yes, my week is made. Now, to figure out what kind of achievement the “Emily” would honor… it’s certainly not for grape stomping!

Here’s a preview of the new tasting room at the cider house Wandering Aengus is opening early next month as well as some pics of sexy cider apples. Would that I could be a cider apple pressed and fermented with some of my friends.

Kevin Zielinski walks his orchard at E.Z. Orchards. He’s growing a number of heirloom cider apple varieties, including Muscadet de Dieppe, Domaine, St. Martin, Champagne Reinette, Douce Moen, Marie Menard, Muscadet de Lense, Muscadet de Bernay, Marin Oufroy, Roxbury Russet and Yarlington Mill.

The cider making book I was reading was written by Annie Proulx of all people. I couldn’t quit it.

I love these cider apples, blushing and soft on the outside, bitter and caustic to the tongue!

Meet Bob, who won Best in Show at the first West Coast meeting of the American Peony Society in Wilsonville this weekend.

I didn’t make it to Wilsonville, but I met him at Brooks Gardens this morning, where his owner is delightfully showing him off with his Blue Ribbon prize.

This one, Sunny Girl, took a second award in the competition.

Callie’s Memory, above, took a first award.

Why so serious? This one, Joker, didn’t take any awards but is still a beaut.

Lois Choice, above, chooses colors that look like a Barbie dress I once had.

Thought about taking this one home with me. Husband says: Absolutely not.

Remember that post I did a while back about how I’m Only Happy When It Rains? Turns out that was a bunch of bunk. I’ve had three winters here now and they have gone like this:

2009: Moved to a new city, made some new friends, started a blog, read inside and drank coffee while it drizzled politely

2010: Had a baby. Fed baby. Changed baby. Repeat. Did it rain? I don’t even remember.

2011: Stuck inside with toddler. Rain. More rain. Sunshi— Oh wait, no, more rain. Killer cold that lasts two months.24-hour vomiting flu. Lost my sense of smell. Got my Vitamin D levels checked. Started taking 20,000 units a day of Vitamin D.

If you’ve stepped outside you know that we are almost through the long dark rainy winter.

So this month, in my Statesman-Journal column, I give you an appreciation. The turning of the seasons. A new leaf. A love letter to cherry trees. Out with the old, in with the new.

By the way, some of you have asked how you are to know that the column is running, so I’ll give you an easy answer. First Friday of every month! You might also remember this as the same day of the month that the Matthew Price Band plays their gig at Seven Brides in Silverton.

Lots of shout-outs in the Oregonian today by my friend Rachel Bucci, who penned a travel story about Salem for the Oregonian. It’s kind of a get-off-the-highway-you-lazy-travelers take on the things to do in the area for travelers.

Venti’s, Bubble Rooms, Little Cannoli Bakery, they’re all there.

Perhaps not surprisingly for a story appearing in our neighbor to the north, the comments are a tad uglier than the story, pointing out the lack of public transportation on weekends and holidays and suggesting that what you will really encounter in the state capital is illegal immigrants.

I’m glad Rachel alerted the big O’s reader’s to La Capitale, but Portlanders are certainly hearing a lot about it these days. Just last fall, Willamette Week did a road trip featuring La Cap that praised the restaurant for being the  “the closest you’ll come to a Portland-style restaurant or French bistro in the state capital.”

Um… since when is anything exceptional “Portland-style?”

I’m going to start calling everything good I find in the state “Salem-style” and see where it gets me.

It’s that time again — time to honor the best and most exciting blog posts of the past month emerging from the Salem blogging scene.

Don’t hate me for being the curator. Just do it faster, better, harder!

1. EatSalem. I always tell my journalism students: “You can’t judge the success of a blog by its comments.”

Psshaw!

If your post gets 50+ comments, some level of success must be acknowledged. EatSalem posted this month about some changes to the Salem dining scene and got, in return, a fascinating, interactive conversation about the plight of the restaurateur and some insight into the fickle relationship between the Salem foodies and the businesses that serve them. And it was just a list!

2. Poetry and Popular Culture. Professor Mike posted what is perhaps the most interesting preview of the first-ever Salem Beer and Cider Festival. Far from just a be there, do this, see that kind of preview, his post was a homage to the natural connection between beer and poetry. And he makes the case for why Salem is actually reclaiming its beer culture mojo (with special thanks to Capital Taps for scaring up some of the history).

3. Creative Concepts and Contracting. If you are knew to the intricacies of selling real estate — or if you don’t watch HGTV — you will want to read this local business’s excellent blog about what it does to make messes into eye candy. Even better? Start with the recent post on stripping. That’s right, I said stripping. Margaret gets this month’s vote for “Post Most Likely to Be Read by New Readers.”

4. The Pringle Creek Community blog. If you’ve been following the news about Solarize Salem, you definitely want to check out this preview for the Salem Green + Solar Tour 2010. Among the projects featured in the tour, happening this Saturday, is Oregon’s first Passive House. This is something to be actively excited about.

5. Salem Treasure. Stuck in an office? The rainy season has started? Need some mid-day Zen but can’t get out? When the walls start to close in, turn to Salem Treasure for a play-by-play of a walk along Mill Creek. With ducks.

One of the downtown VISION 2020 Wayfinding and Entryway Task Force projects that has been proposed is a sign system that will connect people and businesses to the places they are to where they might want to be in downtown Salem.

At an August 26 meeting the task force submitted request for funds for new downtown signs, which includes pole signage, “You Are Here,” and minor entrance way signs.

The image above is a visual of the proposed signage system, which committee members have hailed as “whimsical, color, fun and interesting.” (Click on it for a larger view).

With all due respect to Rick Yurk at BAM!, who put together this (actually very endearing) mock-up of possible signs for the proposed downtown signage, I offer an alternative guide to the much-needed, proposed Salem signs:

• Fishway to Heaven
• This way to the Martini Drink Cart
• Beware of open manhole covers
• Exploding Eye Syndrome Awareness Block
• Caution: these buntings steal babies
• Jagged little dog crossing (okay, I got nuthin’).

I wonder what those signposts actually stand for.

Seriously, writing this post was better than trying to do that back-page New Yorker comic caption contest.

I think I’ll have that martini now.

It is called the “destination farm stand” (as someone who once attended a destination wedding, I can attest that this offers the far better travel itinerary).

I was thinking about this yesterday when I visited Elizabeth Miller of Minto Island Growers at the family’s new farm stand in South Salem on Brown Island Road.

Being able to drive literally a block beyond a busy road and find yourself out in the country is pretty much my favorite thing about Salem. Say what you will about the Portland food scene — unless you’re raising produce in your backyard, it is rare to be so close to the people growing your food.

We have that here — and now, we have that more.

Indeed, it’s practically a staycation.

“No no, this will not do,” Elizabeth said as she discovered that a head of lettuce had begun wilting in the mid-day heat. She promptly picked it up and stuffed it in a cooler below the table.

The stand was just going up. The site was alive with people getting things done — which in this case, included prep work at the family’s new food cart, located on site.

You heard it here. FOOD CART!

The Miller’s plan is to use the food cart as a vehicle for showcasing the farm’s produce and fruit.

Thank heavens for that.

Only a few people in town do vegetable-based dishes very well –  La Capitale’s trio salads come to mind (not incidentally, David Rosales uses produce from Minto Island Growers) — and I’m curious to see what the Millers come up with.

If the lime-Serrano ice pop I ate there yesterday is any indication, we should brace ourselves to be surprised.

But you can see from this pic this is also a classic stand offering the freshly-harvested fruits of the farm, which in this case includes many of the items currently available in MIG’s CSA boxes: red lettuce, rainbow carrots, onions, garlic, dragon tongue beans, tomatoes, and potatoes.

By the way, I’ve started a new feature on this blog where I give you an Easter egg on the photos. Just troll that cursor over the image and you’ll see how this works.

Happy travels!

The woman who lived in our house before us loved roses and planted eight of them on our property. Every day when my husband comes home from work, he picks one and brings it to me.

Adam’s a plant guy, and he has spent the past two weeks potting succulents, the only plants our cat won’t eat. He’s not big on flowers and last night I found out why.

“Look at those poppies on the table,” he said, pointing to the orange poppies he recently picked from a ditch here in town. “They look so happy. They don’t even know that they are dying.”

I’ve always kind of felt that way about roses. They are so Miss Havisham.

Even growing up in Pennsylvania’s Red Rose City, I always knew that their beauty was lost on me.

But not here!

The roses in our neighborhood here in Salem are heavy with blossoms at this point – droopy heads bending over to reach the grass. But all across the micro-hood we call home, roses are doing their languid burlesque.

My neighbor has a red rose growing on her front wall, the Ingrid Bergman rose, that has blooms larger than my baby’s head. We have roses woven through the fence in our back patio that bloom and rebloom for several weeks each summer — sure puts those ideas about temporality to shame. And now I’ve discovered this rose, which reminds me of an 1980s dress one might wear while roller skating, at the Portland International Rose Test Garden.

Even if you don’t love roses. Even if you think that the scent of a rose reminds you of the toilette of an 115-year-old woman. Even if No rose has ever smelled as sweet. It is almost impossible not to be happy when you’re surrounded by these gently unfolding pink ladies.