Wildflower peak bloom lasts just a few short weeks, but it packs a punch. It's a celebratory rising from the deep, a makeover for the mind, a shimmying of the heart, a sloughing and shaking off winter's mantle, no longer needed. Was it this beautiful in past years? Probably, but it's as if I'm seeing it for the first time.
Magic in the Gathering
In April, two writers from my writing group came to visit for a week - a face to face immersion with familiar strangers. They convinced me to drive to Sacramento with them at the end of their visit, where we'd meet up with three others from our group. Strange as the whole thing felt, I kept saying yes. I was trepidatious to say the least...
While I Was Gone
Lots happening and no time to write it up, but the most important thing is...
I Will Always
I will always think fondly of California's warmer winters as I shiver here up north. Something in me refuses to fully embrace the Pacific Northwest cold. At the same time, I will always appreciate springtime here; the jubilance of those first radiant hellebores, the indefatigable daffodils waving their bright colors like flags, the bright glow of skunk cabbage in a swamp, and trillium, delightful spring harbingers, the robins of the flower world. Just when I practically give up, give in, and withdraw into a mossy ball in the corner of the couch, spring awakens outside and in.
Hostess With the Mostest
It's a lot of ruckus to host guests, since my usual preferred activities these days are on the quieter contemplative side. My siblings left last week, and more guests arrive next week. I do love having guests, but I've been more nervous about it lately. It's either the pandemic or aging, or both, making me less flexible, or less tolerant of change and chaos. Socializing, it seems, has become like practicing an instrument; something I need to keep working on to get better at it.
Right On Time
For weeks we heard the whispers and rumors. Is it time? Are we early? Too late? How many, many things They call to mind These cherry-blossoms! --Matsuo Basho
Way back a week ago, when our erratic spring was warm for 3 minutes, we dropped in on Leach Botanic Garden, a little place I've been curious about for a long time. Because Botanic. And Garden. Both good words.
First Spring – Powell Butte
Out to Powell's Butte in "the numbers" to celebrate almost spring, first spring, fool's spring. Whichever it is, I'll take it!
A Most Respected Garden
I somehow agreed to an 8:30 am tour at the Portland Japanese Garden in early March. I wondered what could possibly be interesting about a slow stroll through the damp, the cold, the bare-branches? I'm sometimes reluctant to go with Alan on his frequent visits; I prefer unkempt forest trails and meandering streams, where nature has its way.
Away From One Life and Into Another
We're getting back to traveling, hitting the road and the skies, but it's different these days now that I'm older, and the world has changed too. How about you?