The Ranch in Potter Valley, California will always be a place of beauty filled with love and peaceful memories. Looking back at our little valley I can see a pallet of colors and a diversity of seasons that I miss living in the desert. The desert does have a rugged, patient, time earned beauty that demands respect, but there are times I long for:

Spring in Potter Valley: I miss seeing the baby lambs spring about. Just the thought of those little babies bounding about over the green pastures with their high pitched baby baaa brings a smile to my face. Remember the old Gramma sheep with the really sick sounding BAAAA!!?

I remember how we would spend hours decorating Easter baskets with flowers. There was a fabulous diversity of flowers in the spring - daffodils,lavender, iris, red bud, California poppies, little yellow flowers we called scrambled eggs, and a wide variety of other dainty little flowers displayed over the landscape. I remember Easter Eggs and "The HUNT".

I remember lush blue green grass and velvet-like moss that clung to the north sides of great oak trees and how slippery that moss was on the ledges of our Rock Castles. We nearly gave Nancy a heart attack one day when she saw Clarke, Kally and me scampering over moss covered, three inch ledges like mountain goats! And, of course, I don't think any of us will forget all of our wonderful adventures of "The Knights Of The Round Table" and our Rock Castles. Our imagination turned sticks into swords, rocks into thrones and created a dungeon at the base of the lower Castle.

I fondly remember the times Nancy would walk up the creek with us. The creek was such a quiet, peaceful escape where sunlight filtered down through a canopy of trees and the clear creek weaved, bubbled, and gurgled its way over mossy rocks, logs, and gravel beds. There were a few waterfalls and pools but none were more than wading pools. We would sometimes collected Maiden Hair Ferns to transplant back at the house. I remember one time we came upon a cobweb. If Nancy had not have stop and pointed it out "one of natures tiny works of art" would have been overlooked. We were awed by the beauty of dew drops, hundreds of tiny little pin-head sized points of water that glistened and twinkled magically on a spider's web delicately suspended between a twig and a rock. I remember the dark backdrop of the brown earth behind the web which set off the glistening drops perfectly.

Summer in Potter Valley: Summers were lazy afternoons on the lawn swing under the trellis covered with violet-blue wisteria. I remember quiet moments in the hammock under those awesome Catalpa trees with the afternoon sun filtering through and illuminating their large, bold heart-shaped leaves. Above the leaves were clusters of pure white, trumpet-shaped flowers. The flowers had very interesting Tiger-Lilly-like markings. It was the most perfect place to share dreams.

I remember the smell of the tree roses and fresh cut grass (and hay fever!). Every morning in the summer, before it got too hot, we would go out to the garden or in the front yard and weed (the roses and the Canna Lillies were beautiful, but a pain to weed) or we would pick fresh "veggies" for canning or for dinner that night. I miss the taste of warm, juicy tomatoes fresh off the vine and the sweet taste of raw corn. I don't miss all those awful weeds that made my eyes swell and my skin and throat itch like I had gotten into a patch of poison oak (my blessed hay fever). Remember those huge, hundred year old grape "trees" that produced the most wonderful table grapes. I remember the sad day the road crew dug them out to widen the road.

The 4th of July was always fun. Judy got to celebrate her birthday on that day. Nancy would always make a red, white and blue cake. I remember one year that we had fire- works. Fred Burns (or was it Brian Short) brought them back from somewhere where fireworks were legal. I remember the field was set ablaze and Clarke hurdling a barbed-wire fence and jumping into flames thigh high to put out the blaze. Nancy ran to the barn to get burlap sacks, she got them wet, then ran out to help Clarke.

And what would summer in Potter be without Three Rocks and those wonderful huge inner tubes we had. We really were quite talented at standing up on them. And remember how we would brace our feet on the tube, hold hands and rock back and forth sometimes with two persons sometimes with three all rocking on one tube. I even think we got Nancy to rock with us once or twice. Remember skinny-dipping and leaving our swim suits too far up on the rock!?

Autumn in Potter Valley: Autumn meant going back to school and a trip to Santa Rosa to buy new clothes! That was always something to look forward to. Seventh and Eighth grade were a time of innocence and puppy love. Nancy would drive Kally, Clarke, and me all over Mendocino and Lake county in the "Ambulance" for sporting events. Mendocino and the Basketball tournament was one of my favorite memories for that time and place. I wonder if Nancy ever knew that while she was busy driving Steve Shepard and I would be in the back kissing and snuggling. Like I said, it was a time of innocence and puppy love.

I love the vineyards in Autumn. The hillsides turn to such a tapestry of fall colors --vibrant reds, bold oranges, brilliant yellows, and rich browns. I think that Autumn is one of the seasons I miss the most living in the desert. Even though the Sonoran desert does have spectacular display of blooms in the spring - the only thing that changes color out here in the fall is the Bermuda grass. It goes dormant and it turns a yucky straw color.

Winter in Potter Valley: Winters were mostly muddy and dull. I remember how when we were eating breakfast, Eric (Dads dog) would look at us so pathetically, and he would whimper and shiver and shake at the dinning room window until we would feel we were abusive if we didn't let him in. We would liven things up on rainy days with our marathon Easy Money games, or sometimes Nancy would make a pot of hot cocoa, build a nice warm fire in the den, and read to all of us -- Call of the Wild and Tom Sawyer were two of my favorites.

I remember one morning we were on our way into Potter for something, and Nancy and I noticed the landscape. It was as if we had entered into a Winter Wonderland. The naked branches were covered with so much ice and frost that they were white. The sun reflected, glistened and sparked off everything like jewels. The steam was rising from the river and created a magical mist. It seemed that everything was make of crystal, and if the wind blew, the branches would tinkle like a glass wind chime.

All the beauty of the ranch in Potter Valley would have meant nothing me if it wasn't for the unconditional love, acceptance and freedom to just be a kid. Dad and Nancy created the near perfect haven for children to grow and develop their own potential.