Oregon's Christmas Tree District

The East Willamette Valley. East of I-5, from Oregon City south to Stayton. Molalla, Marquam, Scotts Mills, Mt. Angel, Silverton, Sublimity, Aumsville. In the hallowed halls of Salem they may refer to this as the Christmas Tree District, but with eleven wineries on a sunny Tuesday for a fortieth birthday, we referred to it as paradise.

Any party worth attending begins with careful planning. Some emails and phone calls went unanswered, which was to be expected. Who would want to open their doors for four thirty-somethings on a weekday? The first email response came from AlexEli. Is 9:30 a.m. too early? I inquired. Absolutely not! was the response. Men after my own heart. Two brothers bought Marquam Hill Vineyard & Winery and renamed it using their middle names.

When we arrived, their mom was our hostess, and after tasting and talking, the girls took their glasses out onto the patio. Vineyards behind us, sun shining down on us--The Birthday Girl remarked at the guilty pleasure of no kids and a full glass of wine! We toasted to a fabulous 40th year! Next time we'll make time hit the lake and bring a picnic. But this party planner was cracking the whip and we had ample time, which allowed us to detour into Scotts Mills.

After picking up refreshments at the General Store, where we checked out their wine selection, we stopped long enough to see the sites in town: the church bell, the yard decor of a baby doll in a toilet, and the real toilet across the street, labelled "Farmer's Toilet Co." Is it a toilet only for farmers?

Then it was a climb, climb up sunshine mountain, to the top where "abundant sunshine and caressing winds coax extraordinary flavors into the grapes" at Abiqua Wind Vineyard. Our host was Pete, the most delightful character. Each of their wines is named after a family member: daughter, son, grandkids--and his descriptions were no less unique. "Most pinots," Pete explained "are like a boxer. They hit you right in the face. Our pinot is more like a ballerina. Elegant and graceful."

We agreed and loaded up the car with three cases and promised to visit Pete and his wife at the Thursday farmer's market in the Pearl. On our way out, we stopped for the photo op--a little awkward since we had to pose in a ditch that was sloping downward! But after much laughter the shot was "in the can" and we meandered back down the hill.

When you put a penny in a meter and get 12 minutes, you know you're in a special place. I shouldn't tell you where it is, but then you would be deprived of a great downtown district complete with historic buildings, outstanding city park facilities and businesses with back decks overlooking Silver Creek. This would be Silverton, the "Gateway to Silver Falls" but this day it was the "Gateway to Nourishment for Hungry Girls" and we sat outside over Silver Creek and devoured lunch with a birthday gift of more wine, followed by more photo ops and more laughter!

We wanted to stay and shop, but we had an appointment at Silver Falls Vineyards, south of Silverton in Stayton. A beautiful 100 acre farm, we were hosted by Duane the owner, and we had some yummy pinot noirs and bought glasses from their fun gift shop. We sat outside under the tree and read from the Oregon Bible (Oregon Geographic Names) the origins of places we had been so far that day.

Marquam, such an exotic name, was just named for a settler in 1889.

Scotts Mills, named two Scotts that had a sawmill and a flour mill. Not Scot as in Scot, but Scott as in a last name. Makes sense now why both words are plural. Two Scotts and two mills, 1866.

Abiqua is of course a Native American name, the meaning of which is lost to assimilation.

Silverton was of course named for Silver Creek. Silver Creek most likely was named for James "Silver" Smith when he brought a bushel of silver dollars to the area. The better story is that a traveler on horseback tried to ford the stream near where Silverton now stands and lost his saddle packs, silver and all.

After another photo op we were headed to Pudding River Wine Cellars. The winemaker has a short commute, as lives and works on the property. Pudding River is a multi-generational community. Grandpa toured us and when we left, the winemaker son-in-law was in the yard playing catch with his girls. The wine was fantastic, but the idea of a truly family run enterprise made it that more enjoyable!

Reading on the origin of Pudding River is not as enjoyable--the story has to do with blood pudding and I'll just leave it at that! It's better in the original French: Riviere au Boudin. (The Pudding River joins with the Mollala River and then empties into the Willamette, which is the longest river with its beginning and ending inside the state.)

At the end of the day the count was: Sisters, 3; Souvenior wine glasses, 4; Bottles of wine, dozens!; Photo ops, hundreds; Oregon places visited, 7. Nineteen down, 81 to go!

(Photos top: Grass burning near Pratum, stained glass at Silver Falls Vineyard, aieral view of Abiqua Wind's vineyards with a cool reflection of their award ribbons on the opposite wall.