Songs, essays, poems, books, photographs, readings, short comments, long comments, posted at random times. 

Jon Remmerde, editor. earwashEverything on this website is copyrighted. For permission to use any of this material write Jon@oregonauthor.com.

 Why is this website?  About the author, singer-songwriter, photographer, and website editor. (Photo of the editor having his ear washed.)

 Recording My Songs   An essay. 852 words. All songs on my website are written, performed, and recorded by Jon Remmerde unless otherwise noted. I've copyrighted all my songs and registered the copyrights.



Why donate?

Descriptions, reviews, samples of these 3 books: 
1) Quiet People in a Noisy World: 2) Somewhere in an Oregon Valley: 3) Abraham's Journey 




Caught up in summer and several personal events, including visits from friends and family, I fall behind when I had thought I would post new material.

I try to maintain a stream of writing, working every piece I’ve started toward completion and starting new pieces, like the one I extracted this comment from, just started, to record the most persistent thoughts of the day. At the same time, I maintain a stream of music, practicing every piece I’ve performed toward better performance.

When the music, the writing, the dog barking next door, the airplane flying noisily overhead, the lawnmower roaring two houses over become one movement toward expression of something good, I’m moving the direction I want to go.

Irrelevant, irritating sounds blend into my movement as I try to turn the total force that enters my awareness toward positive expression.

I live in a steadily noisier environment. I want to express primarily positive thoughts. Distractions turn me toward positive expression. Distractions as part of artistic existence turn my attention to the work I need to do to bring harmony to my thought.

Something good must come of irritants. Irritants stimulate my awareness that I must change the irritants, my thoughts about them, myself so they are no longer irritants, so my thought reaches more and more into harmony regardless of what my environment seems to be. Peace in me stimulates peace around me, stimulates awareness that peace exists in our environment, creates the awareness that we can move deeper into peace, into quietude, into gratitude for peace, into gratitude for awareness that quietude is a positive state of existence that I continue to work toward.


 8-7  Blackbirds Flying in Sunshine  An essay. 4359 words.


8-1 Essays from a Family of Four  An essay. 1281 words. Published in The Christian Science Monitor.


7-22  A Mystery from C. Remmerde's Sonoran Journal.  The killer drug the body into the hot desert, unmindful of tracks left in sand.


7-19   Storms along the Pete Mann Ditch  An essay 1,562 words. Published in The Christian Science Monitor, March 28,  1990.


7-11  Birthday Car  Fiction 2926 words.


July 6

Jon Remmerde

Carrot Ice Cream

An essay

389 words

Carrot Ice Cream

Bob, Alice, Jan and Warren, Ash and Ingrid and their sons, William and John Scott, joined us at Whitney that hot summer afternoon. My garden carrots, baby sucrams and touchon, had grown abundantly. They were sweet, tender and crisp. It seemed to me a natural step to put them into homemade ice cream.

The most adventuresome among us said, "Might be good," and the conservative said, "Sounds weird."

We mixed finely-grated carrots into the ice cream mix. I liked that, but some of the people there didn’t like it very well. We ate all the ice cream, but not with the unqualified enthusiasm hand-cranked ice cream should have. We all liked the flavor, but we agreed the crunchiness of the frozen, grated carrots wasn’t consistent with the smoothness we expected from ice cream.

Ingrid said, "We have the juicer at home. We could juice carrots and use the juice." The next time we gathered in Sumpter, where Ash and Ingrid had also grown carrots and had electricity and the electricity-powered juicer, we harvested carrots and launched the ice-cream project before dinner. We washed and juiced carrots and added the juice to the ice cream mix and cranked and added ice and salt and cranked some more, until the carrot ice cream was done. It was so good that even those who had been the most severe doubters looked hopefully into the metal container from which we scooped out ice cream and, seeing it was empty, said, "If we make another batch, I’ll do the cranking," and we made another batch and another.

With all of us harvesting and washing and juicing and making mix to put into the ice cream maker and cranking and keeping the ice and salt level high enough around the metal cylinder that contained the mix, dinner got delayed and delayed, but we had plenty of ice cream. Ash said sternly, "You kids eat all your ice cream or you don’t get any dinner."

The children loved Ash’s approach to discipline and cooperated fully. Children and adults talked and laughed, listened to Cracker Creek run clear in sunshine, used the front lawn as dining room, and ate carrot ice cream and more carrot ice cream in northeastern Oregon’s Blue Mountains. We never did get to the main courses of a dinner that evening. Nobody objected.


7-1   Racing Blind  An essay. 1048 words.

6-28  Soaking Wet in the Sierras  An essay. 699 words.

6-25  Examples of Real Life  From the Sonoran Journal by C. Remmerde.

6-19  Understand an Edible-Pod Pea  A Poem. A reading of the poem.

6-15 Ponce de Leon   Fiction. Taken from archives and revised. 2141 words. Some readers missed this story because of a hyperlink malfunction, and this audio presentation of the story is new (I think. Who really knows what happened several years ago? Computer crashes and consequent loss of memory affects our understanding of history. Modern approaches to history often take into account contemporary knowledge that memories vary tremendously from person to person, even in one person from telling to telling.) 

  I wrote this story in reaction to several articles I read about average comprehension of history in our modern world.

6-8   Tom Niehus's version of a song I wrote, and he rewrote, played, sang, and recorded,   "Night Sweepers."

6-5   I don't have a cell phone. I don't watch tv.  An essay 2,702 words.

Besides that, the pest exterminator who came to my door and offered his services "very cheap," because he has other work in this neighborhood, had trouble believing, and never did understand that insects are my friends, and I don't want to exterminate them. That's another story than this one, but I mention it here because it's related to the story I tell in this essay.

6-1   Night Sweepers  A song, written, performed, and recorded by Jon Remmerde.

My brother, Gerrit, worked as a janitor, night shift. Sometimes, he referred to his job as "Night Sweeper." An image formed in my mind, then words and a tune. I developed the image, words, and music, into this song.

I'm really pleased Tom and Leiza perform some of my songs in more standard and very well-done form. Different performances show more possibilities and remind me that if we all live to be 156, we still won't nearly touch all we can do.

5-28   Know Your Grower  A song. Jon Remmerde wrote it. Tom Niehus adapted it; Leiza Rea sings it. Tom plays the instruments, records, and sings back up.

  One hot summer morning, Laura said, "Watermelon is such a good thing on a hot summer day, if you find a good one." The sentence rang in my head. This song grew almost immediately from her sentence, and I wrote it down and developed the tune on my guitar.

5-22   Good Morning Sunshine  A song. Jon Remmerde wrote, performed and recorded this one.

5-20   Springtime Man   Tom Niehus's newest recording of this song, written by Jon Remmerde. Tom adapted it, performed it, and recorded it.

A line in this song, "Wild geese fly, calling, in the kingdom of the sky," I took, with her gracious permission, from one of Laura Remmerde's poems.   

5-16   Bad News   A song.




Jon Remmerde


           I Load Rocks. Raven Rides the Wind                                                            


I blade the dirt road, pull up rocks,                   

lift them into the tractor’s bucket,

tractor them down

and dump them on the rock pile

near the stream,

blade and rake the road smooth through camp

across Lone Pine Creek

and around the loop below the lodge.


Fierce mountain wind blows down a big pine tree,

blows a picnic table against a tree and shatters the table,

blows the door off the latrine in tent site two.


Raven watches me every day.

Some days, the wind doesn’t blow

so fiercely.


I rake, lift, load rocks,

cut up a blown-down tree,

build a picnic table,

repair the latrine in tent site two,

watch Raven.


A smooth, rockless road is necessary, Raven,

so I can plow the road clear of snow in winter.


Raven never loads rocks in cold wind,

never noises up the day with loud tractor,

roaring chain saw,

never makes explanations for existence.


Raven glides above me on lazy wings

quarters away from the wind,

soars black above silver water in Pine Creek,

soars black above grass of the meadow,

growing green

in the cold wind

of spring.



5-8-2019  Cool Motorcyclists Tour the Sierras  An essay. 762 words.

May-4, 2019  

Jon Remmerde

(An essay)

228 words

Published in The Christian Science Monitor




Breezes blew smells of growing grasses and mountain flowers through open doors into the shop where I painted the frames of window screens I had brought up from the big lodge on the Girl Scout ranch we took care of 7,700 feet up in east slope of Northern Colorado=s Rocky Mountains.

I heard music from hummingbird wings and saw the iridescent flash of green, red, and white as a broad-tailed hummingbird flew by me into the shop and stopped and fluttered against a small window in the wall opposite the big, roll-up doors. Where sunlight shone in, there would be a way for him to fly out, he thought, and he struggled to fly through the hard, unyielding glass.

I walked across the shop, reached out, trapped the hummingbird against the glass, and closed my hand around him. I felt a very small, very light motion in my hand as I walked back across the shop and outdoors. I felt a much larger stirring inside me, where emotions live, at being able to touch, hold, and help this tiny wild bird.

I extended my arm and opened my hand. He knew he was outdoors and free. He flew straight up, a flash of brilliant colors in sunshine and out of sight into mountain blue sky.

I went back to work, light on my feet and singing of sunshine and freedom.

car body darker


5-2   (Webmaster's Journal) I'm updating my website archives, as I have time. I'll make each archive category available on this website as soon as I finish each category (songs, essays, fiction, poetry, comments). In the process of working to make my website more navigable, I've fallen behind on my music practice, so I'm setting aside more time to work on my performances of my songs. As often happens, I get behind what I think of as optimum spacing of entries to the website through time. This becomes "not a problem" because my goal is to make all parts of my website fit together in the highest quality I can achieve, and high quality is always more important to me than optimal timing.




4-25   Dog's Body   An essay. 4,409 words.   "I was ten when our cocker spaniel, Rusty, got killed by a car on the road in front of our house, early in September...."

4-11   Down to the River  A song.

4-5   Going to the Country   A song.

3-31   Funny Little Thing  An essay from the Sonoran Journal by C. Remmerde.

3-28  A Motley Crew Buys Kefir  An essay. 1031 words.

3-20  Know Your Grower  A song, arranged, performed, and recorded by Tom Niehus. Tom performed every sound on this recording.

         Know Your Grower  Written, performed and recorded by Jon Remmerde.

         Communication between Tom and Jon about putting both versions of this song on this website.

3-14  Butterfly's Name  A poem.  Audio of the poem.

         Butterflies in Our Rudbeckia  A Poem.  Audio of the poem.

3-8    Meeting the Muse  Fiction. 5,980 words. This story is dedicated to all writers who have problems with alcohol or with life interfering with their writing.

3-3    Hey, Hey, Hey  A song.

2-26   Four-Wheel Drive on the Meadow  An essay; 953 words. screech owl

2-21  Another Day Done Gone  A song.

2-16  Must be a Magic World  A song .

2-13  Burned-Out Blues  A Poem, and audio reading of the poem.

2-6    Summer Rose Special  Fiction. 1552 words, and audio reading of the story.


1-26   Dark Heart of Winter  an essay by Laura Remmerde.  688 words..

1-21  The Coldest Place in Oregon  An essay.   926 words.

1-16  The Housekeeper and the Poet   An essay by Laura Remmerde. Published in the Christian Science Monitor.

1-9  Refusing Corned-Beef Hash  An essay. 762 words.

1-3-2019    Create to the Future   An essay 541 words. 

12-27   Treasured Music of Treasure Valley  An essay. 1549 words 

12-20   Winter of the White Dog   Fiction 2,141 words.

12-13Tree with Mistletoe   Jake's Song fiction. 3,147 words.

12-7     Lyle's Place  Fiction 3,631words.

12-2     Webmaster's Journal 12-2-2018

11-23    Fox in My Yard   Essay and photo by C. Remmerde, from the Sonoran Journal.

11-20    I’m taking a short break, again. I’m behind schedule, because of restructuring I need to do to my website, music practice I need to catch up with, preparations for Thanksgiving, various exigencies of living. I’ll be back right after Thanksgiving. 

11-13   Headed Down the Road   A song.

11-10  Water in the Horse Trough, Skunk on the Stairs   From the Sonoran Journal by C. Remmerde

11-4    Slams and Rainstorms Delivering Papers  An essay. 

11-1    Webmaster's Journal   November 1. 2018  

10-29   Light inside My Existence  A song.

10-18   I Rise to New Heights, but Not Like the Eagle   An essay. 753 words.

10-7   Lessons from Ants and Grasshoppers. An essay, 1154 words. 

9-27   Family Cohesion on the Ranch   An Essay. 1422 words.

9-22   Family Education,1981   An essay.

9-12   Sprouting Memories   An essay.

9-10  Vultures Around My Place  From The Sonoran Journal, text and Photos by C. Remmerde.

 8-25   Entry from the Sonoran Journal, August 15, 2018, Pipevine Swallowtail Butterflies..

 8-18   Predragonflies   from The Sonoran Journal. Photo and text by C. Remmerde.