Bridges, birds, boats, beach, bouldering, blueberries, big open spaces, and beauty - Sauvie Island has something for everyone.
I spent the week before our February snowstorm waiting for its arrival, watching weather reports with amusement and excited anticipation. Maybe a little dread. The ten-day predictions changed every few hours, from a few inches of snow to the extreme of eight inches one day and eleven the next, then dialing it back again. Extreme for Portland anyway. I was just waiting, checking the weather the way I used to doom scroll for the daily news - what disaster is in store today? This was way more fun however than waking up thinking, what has he tweeted today?
Despite what you see in most of my grandkid blogs, our time with them isn't all walks in the woods, teachable moments, and kids say the darndest things. We don't have enough time together to get too annoyed or frustrated with each other, though it does happen. Like the third time we ask them to … Continue reading Coping
I cherish these long hours we get to spend with the grandkids when school doesn't get in our way. It brings back recollections of aimless days of homeschooling my own children, following their lead on adventures that were important mainstays of their learning.
The sun glistens on the water, wild daisies shimmer in the breeze near my feet, and the warmth from the rock seeps into my hips. Tiny waves lap on the rocky shore. A stand-up paddler passes, barely a wake behind her, and I wonder in this quiet, do I really want this quarantine to end?
There are cozy havens everywhere I walk... I imagine what it feels like to sit there, and think about how the changes around us compel us to make these new refuges.
After that first sighting, orange started popping out at me. I could see it from a block away, waving me down, "Look at me! Look at me!" But it's funny how once you start looking for something, you start seeing it all the time.
Usually my feelings about Fall here in the Pacific Northwest are more mixed; excited about cooler mornings, rain in the garden, digging out warm clothes while mourning the end of languid days, sleeveless shirts, warm skin, and thriving gardens. Instead, I was fighting inevitable change, a losing battle.
So many things can make or break a hike. What makes a hike a good hike for you? Here's what I noticed last time I went to the woods.
Basalt cliffs rose up straight up before us, and I imagined the floods advancing and receding repeatedly at the end of the Ice Age, the entire area being underwater, wiping out whatever was here before.