“Sisters, sisters . . .

There were never such devoted sisters/never had to have a chaperone, no sir/I’m here to keep an eye on her.”

Oh, my gosh! What has happened? I sat down to write a brief post about our time in Sisters, Oregon, and, instead, I find myself in the middle of a Bing Crosby movie!  I must try to concentrate more. Focus, Virginia, focus.

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Welcome to Sisters. It isn’t quite this quiet; this is a side street.

Thursday, June 20, was a day of leisure; and, a day off for our driver. We wandered the streets of this high desert, western themed town, popping into one shop after another, seeing what was on offer.  We discovered beautiful scarves hand woven by the lovely shop’s equally lovely proprietor, weavin’ Stephen.  We found that items called antiques and collectibles in one store with prices to match might also be found in a charity shop with bargain basement prices. We admired gorgeous quilts at a large, bright, welcoming fabric store and cringed at a store called “Antler Art,” two words that should NEVER be placed together. I bought a bunch of 50 cent children’s books perfect for my little free library.

The only sour note on our perambulations was our luncheon choice: Bowls of soup at a little café that were permeated with a charred flavor. Perhaps the cook was of the “a watched pot never boils” school.  She or he should have taken a few classes from the “an unstirred pot of a cream based soup always burns” school.  However, the beauty of the mountains surrounding Sisters and the incredible freshness of its air soon drove away this minor luncheon misstep.

Afternoon spend in individual pursuits: Reading, resting, ruminating and cruising.

More happy hour in the lodge, dinner at the Sister’s Saloon (ribs for one, salads for others) and a pleasant stroll home over the petite, covered bridge, through the pines, past the massive recreational vehicles in the campground capped a lovely day.

Thanks to Heather and Judy for letting me use some of their photos.

 

 

 

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