7th Fairway at Greenhorn Creek Golf Club
I needed a picture. Someone told me that there was a circa 1850s printing shop in the Historic Park of Columbia. I needed a photo of it for a project I am working on for the Angels Camp Museum. It is just a half hour jaunt from my front door, but I was resistant. It was Sunday. It had been a busy week and there was more work to do before the day was done. At 1:30 I agreed to a Sunday drive; over there, get the photo then home. I forgot how entrancing the autumn could be.
It started with the ride over to Columbia from Angels Camp. Like I said, only about a half an hour,
New Melones Lake
but the sun was out, and it warmed my face and legs as we drove through the brilliantly colored trees and bushes and over the reflective lake at New Melones. The radio played some 1940’s jazz, a perfect soundtrack to autumn’s fantasy. By the time we hit Parrots Ferry, there was a shift. Work? What work? I’d fallen victim to the magic of the autumn season and it’s spell had lulled me into it’s restful arms.
Fall Color
I think it was the colors. Red, yellow and shades of gold contrasted against the blue of the sky and the white puffy clouds. Green was already pushing through the remainders of beige summer grass, now left behind in summer land. Currier and Ives had come alive in the country roads ahead of me and in the fields to the left and the right. Bright squares of iridescent orange lit up the rolling hillside where grapes had recently been harvested. A white home on the hill, a red barn in the field, an old brown shed, created greeting cards as I passed by. The enchantment had begun.
We arrived in Columbia, a world all its own in any season with wooden sidewalks, 100-year-old buildings, employees in period costume and the occasional street musician, circa 1850. In autumn it somehow feels even more surreal. The trees that line the streets have seen the advent of winter well over 100 times. They have perfected their act, playing their part in autumn’s fantasy. Brilliant leaves, falling just slow enough to catch my gaze from beginning to end. Focus, I told myself. Where is the printing shop?
The Fallon House
I found the print shop just alongside the old Fallon House Play House. At this point my husband made the mistake of leaving me alone for a moment while he returned our dog to the car. There
was no hope for my wandering imagination now. The shop was closed, but I was able to snap a decent enough shot through the blurry, single paned glass of a building that must be at least 120 years old. I stood there. I felt the cool breeze of the November air on my neck and my chest. It was quite a contrast to the warm sun that
Print Shop in Columbia
was baking through my thick wool sweater. The print shop drew me further in. Wood floors, high ceilings and warm oak desks and chairs set the stage for someone. I waited for the ghosts to appear and perform their work. I waited. Then there they were. I envisioned a boy sweeping the floor wearing suspenders and heavy wool pants, his hair was shiny black against his soft tan shirt. A middle aged man sat at the desk in a crisp white shirt and small round glasses. His fingers moving small type set around fervently. I was officially a goner. My imagination was in full swing and there was no going back.
Walking next door to the play house, I planned of my next adventure to never-never land. I picked up tickets to Little Women for next Thursday. A Christmas treat to myself, I thought. My husband came back and found me there. He knew I was mush and he took advantage of it. Let’s stroll he said. The street was dusty as we entered it and the clicky clack of a horse drawn wagon snapped at me. I wanted to be in that wagon. We walked up the wooden side-walk, in and out of the assayer’s office, the Wells Fargo building and past the Old Saloon. Hungry. I convinced my husband to buy me lunch less he want a grumpy wife on his hands. I knew the perfect place.
My poor husband had no chance at this point. He was now a player in my magic-land
The tea house - Columbia Kate's
and I had my sites on a Tea House. He went along with it! I couldn’t believe it either as we entered what mimicked a little girl’s doll house, filled with many a breakable thing. They delivered the menus which consisted of over 70 teas and a few edible items. “They have homemade chicken pot pie”, I told him realizing that was about the only thing that might interest him. Salads and scones with cream, Quiche and a foo-foo sandwich or two, graced the menu. He asked for “Iced tea please”. “Which type?” asked the waitress. His look toward me was somewhat dismal, somewhat accusing, so I answered for him “Plain black, please”. His iced tea arrived at the table in a complicated system with hot tea in the top vessel, ice in the bottom vessel and a glass placed in front of him. Again the bewildered look lurched out. “It’s not as complicated as it looks” said the waitress. She sensed his surrender to the absurdity of it all and said “I’m sorry sir, you ARE in a Tea House”, at which he laughed and moved on. My hubby was in a compliant mood today…the Autumnal spell had gotten him too.
Just like a doll house
An old barn in Columbia
We stepped out into the crisp air, bright sun and a completely clear sky. More strolling was in order. The old bowling alley sent the sounds of crashing wood and cheering players into the air. Two young boys playing hide and go seek were off to the left, one counting very loudly. The Blacksmith’s shop was open and we wondered in. The railings, shelves and ground were adorned with interesting iron gifts. A heart shaped horseshoe and a nicely made hoof pick caught my eye; more Christmas gift possibilities for later.
Candy Heaven!
One last stop was in order. Nelson’s Candies is a regular visit every time we go to Columbia. The smell when you walk in is intoxicating enough. But the visual puts Santa’s Workshop to shame. A 2″ snow man-made out of white chocolate and fondant, filled with cream caught my eye. The cabinets are crammed with sugar transformed into every type of shape, color, size, smell and flavor. Chocolate creams, nut encrusted toffee, gummy chews, fudge in white, brown, and rocky road all line up like soldiers in a chess game. Breath. The floors squeak under my feet as I try to take it all in. It’s not so much the tasting as it is the anticipation of it all; even thought it is absurdly delicious. We had been there alone for a few moments. Then someone else entered, intruding on daydreaming. Time to pick, purchase and indulge I thought.
We head back to the car and my dog wants to smell every inch of me. He wants to know where I’ve been, what I’ve eaten, what I’ve brought back. Not much for the dog I’m afraid. A pocket full of memories, a few photos and these chocolate creams, of which you are getting zero bud, I thought. We pull out and begin our drive back. The 1940’s jazz is still playing on NPR. As we drive home I am amazed at the beauty passing by my window. We are quiet all the way home. Taking it all in I suppose. Resting our souls on beauty’s shoulder.
Coming into Angels Camp - North East
The dreamy drive down the hillside, over the bridge and back into Angels Camp was sublime. The town looks inviting as we enter over the scenic by-pass. A sea of green is mixed with spots of yellow, orange, and red, as we pass by over the tree tops looking south. Home. I love this place. My trip down the rabbit hole was a brief respite from the cares of the world. But also a refreshment that reminded me of all I love about this place I live in. Enchanting autumn will stay here for a few more weeks. Then winter will impose bringing it’s own magic, wonder and beauty. But the delightful backdrop of these beautiful Foothills will be ever waiting for any season that enfolds it. And I will be mindful to allow the luxury of indulging myself in all its mysteries again soon.
cocktails on Saturday night. I may mean eliminating the excuse of the fitness center being too far away and creating an opportunity to keep your fitness commitments. It can also mean you may find yourself bouncing to a canned version of “Celebrate” at 10 p.m. from weekend weddings at the club. Or, it could mean very little privacy as everyone heads toward the club for early morning tee times just as you are picking up your paper from the driveway in your robe (need I mention in ‘morning hair?). When home shopping, check out the orientation in relationship to the club house and pro shop; you may be a social butterfly and love the morning and evening interaction the location provides but keep this in mind if you want to be off the beaten path.
the pool doesn’t have to be a problem either. Smart builders will orient the home correctly for peace and privacy and place garages and landscaping between you and the pool. This provides privacy and quiet while keeping your premier access to the summer cool-off spot at a premium. Be careful of front or back doors facing toward the pool or the pool’s parking lot…this can allow sound to travel right in to the home.
home. Some pointers to remember are; sound loves to travel up. Tall homes that line the fairway can make a tunnel of sound bouncing right into your home. When searching for a home on the course, find one that doesn’t have homes right on the other side of the fairway. Or, find a fairway with no homes on the other side; maybe there is a green belt or band of trees on the other side to help absorb sound? Also a single story home that is lower to the ground offers more quietude. A few trees and bushes strategically placed can also buffer sound.
Over the weekend of July 4th, my husband and I joined a few old friends and took off for the high country for a commemorative hike into the 
s winter/spring, I was daunted by the almost immediate ascent of about 200 feet. Heart pumping and gasping for air, we reached a summit and some one in our group wondered ” Is there a view over that granite boulder?” Well, after that much exertion, I was not about to miss a view if it was there to be had. Up I went, another 20 feet, and shouted back…”Oh, yeah!”
Needless to say, I was excited to see a downhill jaunt in front of me that led to a level soft dirt path for about the next 1/2 mile. We inched up, then down again, meandering along several creeks and streams that just mesmerized me with their soft, rhythmical gurglings. Over logs, over rocks, pooling here and there; the water seems to wander purposefully with bustles and respites along the way. Evidence of snow was also still present as we walked along the trail. With silly curiosity, I rubbed a piece of left over snow and some how found myself surprised it felt cold! What was I thinking!
of hiking up hill; pair up with someone talkative, ask open ended extensional questions, and enjoy the 20 minute answers as you pant your way up hill! Instant talk radio! what a concept. This practice quickly filled our 3+ mile hike up to 
The climb was exactly what I expected it to be…hard. We split into groups; the hikers, the trailers and the laggers. I was in the trailer group, keeping my eye on the lagger, my hubby, to be sure he was still with us. Each step up was about 12″ high over wobbling, slippery rocks. A view popped up here and there, and suddenly an Eden of a pond appeared from nowhere; just a glimpse of what was to come at our destination. 
burning. Then a few last steps and the view opened up to a large glistening lake surrounded by large granite boulders, tall pines and a backdrop of snow sprinkled majestic Sierras. We perched on a peice of the mountain, lakeside. Off came my shoes and immediately they were submerged in the icey cold, but very refreshing high Sierra water. We sat there lakeside for about an hour and enjoyed the views, the rest, the sun, the cool breeze, our simple but yummy lunches and each other. 
were breathtakingas we headed West with the headwaters of the Stanislaus river on our left. Going down into the canyon allowed us to be accompanied by smaller rivers making their way to join up the larger one. Then all of a sudden, the meadows open up. The meadows are green, lush and the perfect place to be if you’re a cow! 
I think this could have been the muse for the ”Happy Cows” commercials. There weren’t any there today, but the 
Camping this time of year in the Calaveras District of the Stanislaus National Forest is amazing! There are plenty of high country lakes, trails, streams and beauty. Here is a link to all the camp sites, fees, maps, elevations and all the good stuff you need to know to prepare for your trip!
Hi friends! Thanks for visiting my blog! Here I will post helpful information on the market in Calaveras County, fun and interesting things about the area, and the general wanderings of my mind..just a warning. I have lived in Calaveras County since 1996; moving here to raise my 2 now teenage children that began kindergarten then. This was the best thing I have ever done for my family and myself. Living in Calaveras County has been an adventure, an adjustment, an amazing place to raise my kids and a lesson in kindness and friendships.
and noisy cars, to cows and rustling leaves ( no really – this happens). I remember the first time I travelled to a mall after about my first year in the Foothills. The filters I had used to protect my senses had disappeared and within about 1/2 an hour I felt sick to my stomach, much like a baby with sensory overload! It’s amazing how up in the hills, your body learns to take everything in, verses shut out all the garbage that comes at you daily. Once you get over mall withdrawal, you start to see all there is to do that you may have been missing! There is hiking, and strolling, caves to visit, 
lakes to ski on, fish on and sunbathe at. We are spotted with golf courses, great restaurants, zip lines, ranches with real horses and cows, ice cream shops, movies, fine arts, incredible history (jumping frog story – thanks, Mark Twain) fine clothing stores, and so much more.
More information on this is found at www.gocalaveras.org. The community is dotted with vineyards and wineries. Just drive along the meandering Hwy 4 between Angels Camp and Murphys and you can find about 23 wineries! Each one has it’s own personality from a rubber chicken theme (Twisted Oak) to a grand estate with concerts and car shows ( Ironstone). The wines are sublime. We grow some very nice Sauvignon Blancs and the red blends are to die for! Some say Chardonnay doesn’t grow well here, but I have tasted some of the best grown in a friends back yard. We all seem to do the grape dance around here. We love our grapes, vineyards, wineries and wine. The events are filled with friends and fantastic food. The winemakers are truly artists and the marketing can be a lot of fun!
freedom, struggle, and love of the hills. The natural beauty around us brings us together in parks, wineries, hiking trails, little quaint towns, lakes, open air restaurants, and hillside on the slopes of Bear Valley. We circle around the schools, raise our kids together, compete against one another, make wine together, argue over stoplights and bridges and roads, attend funerals together, party together, and enjoy the quiet together.
the way to mountain cabins in the snow. You can be in the open rolling hills one minute and 10 minutes later in the thick of cedars and pines or walking distance to a quaint little town and then poof out in the middle of no where. It’s fun, quirky, simple to elegant, unique and mostly peaceful. I have been serving the real estate community here since I moved here and became licensed in 1994. I started my career in Tracy, CA. You can tell by the dates, that my timing was terrible, beginning in the middle of a really bad recession. But, that taught me how to sell and how to last. The 
economy recently has mirrored that and although scary temporarily, I have seen it turn around before and know it will this time too. Calaveras County is located just 2 hours from San Fransisco Bay Area up Hwy 4. I invite you to come and explore this place I love and call home. It will awaken your senses, touch your heart and win your admiration.
