Each year at this time, my bedroom window fills with a cherry blossom pink bouquet just outside. I love spring. It may be overtaking autumn for first place as my seasonal favorite. Spring brings such a promise of abundant life and good things. It’s an open gate.

It’s also the most confoundingly unpredictable time of year.

Earlier this month, Denise the birthday maven, and I had planned a jaunt up I-5 to the historic Wolf Creek Inn and Tavern. Well, it snowed and slobbered all over the highway making it a risky bit of business. A few days earlier the sun had shone, I got my bikini out of moth balls, blah, blah, blah. We all know how it goes by now, and no, I don’t own a bikini, polka dot or otherwise.

So, we postponed our trip until last Saturday. A few days leading up to Saturday had been sunny and lizard-pleasing.

Then, the heavens broke loose. It poured so hard between Grants Pass and Wolf Creek that I hydroplaned my way up the freeway. It’s not funny. I wish I had known that was going to happen. I would have put skis on Giovanni the Honda and hooked a tow rope behind a semi.

At one point as I passed a pick-up pulling a trailer, he threw so much water at me, Giovanni began to fishtail. To my left was a skimpy looking guardrail as we slithered like a salmon swimming upstream on the road that had become a watershed. On the other side of the railing was a minute or two of empty space and a vision of us screaming all the way down. To my right was the truck. I kept my cool and didn’t overcorrect, but it jarred my confidence.

I had just bragged to Denise that I didn’t mind driving in the rain, but rather enjoyed it. A sudden change in driving conditions can hurl one praying into a foxhole. Denise was so confident in my skills that she showed me pictures from her phone while I was navigating the river before us.

We made it to Wolf Creek, though it continued raining barrels. We decided to take a gander at the ghost town of Golden, as Denise had never seen it. We came dressed for adventure and picked our way through the rain and rivulets running throughout the old settlement. The church sat with open doors and a Gideon’s Bible open on the pulpit.

I sat in a pew and uttered words of thanks for getting us through the previous deluge. Panicking had given me quite an appetite, so we headed for grub.

The Wolf Creek Inn restaurant is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner from 8:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m. Thursday through Sunday. Their nine guest rooms are available for overnight stays and may be viewed on their website. It has a history as an old stage stop situated conveniently along the Applegate Trail. Since 1883, with occasional closures for maintenence, it’s been welcoming weary travelers. Tours are available at 8:30 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. Thursday through Sunday.

The entire menu is available all day, no matter what you’re craving. We enjoyed fried Brussels sprouts with a balsamic reduction for an appetizer, penne pasta with chicken and pesto sauce with salad, and savory meat loaf with mashed potatoes and gravy and grilled veggies.

We purchased a bottle of Valley View tempranillo and saved room for generous slices of cheesecake with coffee.

The entire bill with tip was about $118.

To aid in digestion, I thought we might take part in some local activities — perhaps a moonshine run ride-along or a wild turkey-plucking contest.

Instead, we adjourned to the parlor and indulged in a long visit amid antiques and eavesdropping ghosts of a bygone era. When it was time to leave, the rain had largely spent its wad.

Today is a blue-sky day, but clouds are building. After the calm, always comes a storm and vice versa. I love a good storm, but bright days will win.

Enjoy that Easter egg hunt, discover that golden egg and have an amazing Resurrection Day, everyone, through whatever storm you’re navigating.