a little lower than the angels
- And you wonder why you misplaced this music a year ago, only to discover it in a dusty drawer this morning, apparently saved for the day you forgot your ipod. The weather is the same, bicycling into the city, that film of summer beginning to coat everything - along with memories, for better or worse. Yet, you continue to listen.
- These small phrases that have made their way into your sub-consciousness and I want to say that no matter what you declare, you cannot be rid of them. You'll wonder where that spontaneous poetry came from and I think we all could tell you, though you wouldn't want to know.
- While you're gone, I'll keep the herbs growing. I'll do what I can to nurse our asparagus back to health again, I'll marvel at the artichokes, I'll applaud the thyme for a job well done, and maybe take another step towards becoming a gardener.
- Peter & I hiked Dog Mountain last Monday. Three-thousand foot elevation change in three miles, but well worth it. You emerge from the trees on the summit trail to these endless sub-alpine meadows of arrow-leafed balsam root (we brought our field guide along); yellows and purples intermixed to the point of dizziness. We could look down on the airplanes flying through the gorge, headed for the east coast. Mount St. Helens and Mt. Hood are still proudly white and standing tall - looks like they made it through the winter unscathed as well.
- The recent weather reminds us why we live in Portland. Despite earlier entries mourning our lack of sunshine - it is fully and completely worth it. We're bound for the Metolius headwaters this weekend - we'll see her burst out of Black Butte, a fully formed river at birth.
1 Comments:
miss you.
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