Izzy moved from Florida to Texas a few months back. Her momma thinks it's because when she was pregnant with Izzy she played Lyle Lovett songs all the time. I think it's just because Izzy likes wearing cowboy boots and Florida is a flip-flop state. It's going to be 93 degrees in Austin, today, where Izzy lives.

Here in Hermiston it's only going to reach in the mid-60s. It was a little warmer on Saturday when Tim, Shelby and I took a hike up at Emigrant Springs State Park. It's been dry here, like anywhere else, so the fall foliage isn't as spectacular as in past years. Still there were bright golds, flaming reds and emerald greens. Shelby and I, who were ahead of Tim and Poe on the trail, saw two large white-tailed deer sprinting up a hillside. Then later Shelby eyed a jackrabbit as it took cover.

We crossed a pasture path, and wound around a hill when we came upon an old farmstead. The logs, put together in that tongue-and-groove fashion, were gray, weathered, only a few left standing. Tim walked carefully around the boards with rusting nails to the chimney, built strong enough to weather winter's snowstorms and summer's fires. It was crafted from bricks and finished off with river rocks.

Who were the people who pulled off their boots and hung their coats around this fireplace? Who was the woman who sat in the rocker, nursing her babies, staring into the fire, dreaming of what? What did she dream of?

Did they keep photos there, upon the wide mantel? Or a kettle for tea? Did they hang an elk's head above it? Or a bear skin? Who were the children who took their baths in the tub filled with water warmed here? What stories were they told, living here on the mountain, far from libraries and schools?

Shelby picked through the lumber, layered like the pages of an unopened book. She found the shards of a ceramic coffee cup and a mattress. But no photos. No letters. Nothing to tell us who these people were and what had become of them. Except for a chimney crafted with care. Strong enough to weather the storms of life and death. And eye-pleasing enough to know that the family who made their home among the emerald trees and the white-tailed deer, and warmed themselves by these bricks and rocks sought out a life filled with beauty.