It has been a week since I last posted coastal views, a time length unprecedented these days –unless I might be on a long vacation. How lovely that would be! But, no, it was less fun that that. I took it easy while my immune system responded to dose #2. I am raring to go again and glad to be at my desk once more.
During the latter part of our last coastal outing, we visited two favorites: Sitka Sedge State Natural Area and the village of Oceanside. Sitka Sedge is 357 acres of tidal marsh, mudflats, estuary and dunes. Sedge is a native wild grass both graceful and important to the ecological balance. There are forested wetlands and plenty of wildlife, including beaver, coyote, black bear and bobcat. It is a birders true heaven. We walked almost to the hidden beach and turned back; the hour was getting late. We wanted to start back north to another gorgeous beach. But there are 3.5 miles of trails we will get back to explore if we plan to start closer to this site.
Below, enjoy shots of Sitka Sedge. There were a few groups we passed; shortly it became deeply peaceful again.
We ended that meander and headed north to Oceanside. It lies a few miles west of the sprawling dairy farming community of Tillamook, where many of the best cheeses and other milk products in Oregon are made. I have visited Oceanside ever since I was 42 and first moved to OR. permanently with two of my teenaged children. My sister, Allanya, owned a weekend house with a chunk of land down the way on Whiskey Creek Rd. for many years, as well. (Some of us thought it haunted, but we stayed overnight often, anyway. The deer in the watering hole behind it were beautiful to discover.)
Oceanside can get very crowded anymore–but we still love it there. The landslide that occurred at its beach earlier this year was cleaned up. All seemed safe enough, for now. Below, part of the village on the hill. The clifftop motel is not far from the landslide point. I wonder if it will finally close. We stayed there decades ago–quite a view!
Here is a slideshow for better continuity as the late afternoon melded into evening.
Everyone seemed so happy to be in the salt sea air, basking in early spring sunlight and moving through sunset magic. I hope you can find a place to breathe deeply and explore nature more soon. Find the wonders of coming days and nights or, at the least, share kind exchanges, and I’ll see you Wednesday with a longform/creative nonfiction post.
I am feeling a bit impatient about tulips–how much longer…? It should be enough that there are vincus, cherry blossoms, daffodils, hyacinths, azaleas, rhoddies, camellias, magnolias, daphne, pansies and several more showing off their colorful designs. I even saw my first wild trilliums over the weekend, a small but distinctive joy I get every Pacific Northwest spring. But it’s tulips I start thinking of…perhaps because my mother told me as a child that tulips bloom in April, the month I was born–so it must be my flower.
Or maybe it’s because my sister, Marinell, liked them and I miss her–she died around my birthday a few years ago. Plus, a happy memory is how much we enjoyed a three-sisters trip to a tulip festival in Washington in 2013. From my oldest sister’s home in Issaquah, WA., it was an easy drive and we made a day outing of it. It was one of the last Sisters’ Trips that Allanya, Marinell, and I took. So, it is only natural that I think of her and spring rambles with pleasure.
I hold tulips in high regard. I appreciate their ubiquitousness, their commonness; they have few frills, less fragrance. Sturdy, with three petals and three sepals to make it seem as if six petals, the tulip is a brightly hued, rather humble bloom that nonetheless looks pleased with its elegant simplicity. They seem easy to grow. Tulips traditionally symbolize love and spring’s arrival–entirely apt, in my opinion. Apparently in the 1600s they were considered extremely valuable and cost a fortune. Another factoid: there are almost 150 various species, and over 3000 naturally derived and cultivated varieties in the world. And they are related to a flower I do consider more fancy while also attractive (but often smellier)–the lily.
But enough talk. Here are photos from our trip in 2013, a cloudy day that was bursting with color and smiles. This might hold me until they show themselves in my neighborhood!
What a good adventure! We had a fine outing with two grandchildren and a daughter over the weekend. I am unable to share much of the delightful nearly 2 yo twins (I wish I could as their antics are camera-worthy, I have to say), but there is a glimpse as they explore. Children are so strongly responsive to nature and its myriad of wonders. One granddaughter followed, with nose right to a rectangular info plaque, the trek of an extremely tiny bug as it crawled across it. She kept up scrutiny of it from front side, around the edge and to the back. When it flew off, she was so surprised–then a bit annoyed! But there was much more to check out; off we went. The nature park is in nearby Tualatin, an easy meander with many different trails. It was great fun for over an hour though grey and chilly as it is so often in March. We did see lots more leaves unfurling, and flowers popping out a bit. After they left with their mother, Marc and I continued deeper into woodlands and wetlands for another hour or more.
It’s been awhile since I took you along portions of the Willamette River– as well as the smaller Tualatin River, which flows east into the Willamette. I’ve trekked many a riverside mile the last year and more–but in early spring it gets a bit more interesting. It always gives me a lift to see spring flowers poking up from the ground, the unfurling tree leaves and buds on bushes. Here in Oregon we have had the usual cold rains and then a terrible ice storm–it has also been an often glum winter, as it has been for us all to one degree or another. I’ve lately heard many more birds, and think they sing out differently. Today there was a “varied thrush”, it’s clear and seemingly random notes startling and lovely. Many hummingbirds are out and eagles and hawks. And a noisy bee buzzed right over the top of my head, despite the temp lowering awhile to upper forties today. (We had a mix of rain and sleet on the way home for a few moments.)
Well, spring arrives in fits and starts– for human and all others.
These photos are taken around various parts of the rivers near home the last two weeks. We start at the Tualatin Greenway Trail along the Tualatin River. Wandering through woods, seeing the muddy, at times swift water flow, spotting opening blooms as well as people out and about was cheering. Plus, there is greater evidence of fishing and pleasure boats about, as well as a marina with a couple yachts rocking dockside. But much of the recent walks were peaceful and quiet along the treed, often steep river banks.
BELOW: On to the Willamette in an area we frequent often. Form a bridge, I noticed a grandfather and a grandson, I think, having a nice time offering food to the ducks. A fishing boat with two, maybe three, fishermen waiting wth rods in the water quietly beyond trees and bushes. (In MIchigan when I sort of fished with my first husband on a lake, we called it “trolling.”)
Spring is coming, we can count on that happening in all its curious, beautiful ways.
As an aside, this Wednesday I’m supposed to get my first vaccination, so may not be writing a short story, as I do twice a month. Still… I may be writing like mad to get the story done before midnight, as usual. In any case, hope you find some spring –and see you soon!
In late February I left our quiet, wooded suburb to set off for a walk around Portland’s riverfront area. My spouse was not thrilled with the idea–there were many months of protests and even riots in 2020 decrying racial injustices around the country and other sociopolitical issues. Things have settled down a lot, but it has all changed our home city–perhaps, hopefully, making way for needed, better changes. Yet all is not well in some ways. Additionally, COVID-19 has emptied city streets to a startling degree.
I have always loved downtown Portland. I lived a few blocks away for two decades and was very much an urban person. I didn’t want to lose that connection but the pandemic took over. I still miss “close-in” Portland and do drive over to visit the streets, the parks, other family.
It has been a long habit to go the huge outdoor Farmer’s Market, for example, on the campus green of Portland State University. And to roam the city for local shops–for clothing and jewelry and gifts for people. And to purchase too many books at used bookstores. And dine at excellent restaurants 2-3 times a month. My friends and I would meet for lunch and a movie on weekends. I would meet other family to attend the famed Saturday Market where dozens of arts and crafts were represented, and afterwards we’d eat Himalayan or Japanese or Bolivian meals from the line of food carts (we’ve had dozens of tasty menus from which to choose). The swirls of activity and throngs of people were part of the pleasure. I felt safe downton, with or without my husband, or with a friend as dusk arrived and things got even livelier.
Now–where are the people? At home, yes. Some became too ill and did not make it through… And too many are huddling under a bridge, an overpass, in a lean-to made of a grocery cart and plastic bags and cardboard. Likely others are working in some of the sky-swiping buildings, as some necessary businesses stay afloat. Others, like myself, come and go, wondering what’s next for Portland, aka Rose City. It was all a stark contrast to the southwest hills area I live in now, where there tends to be activity going on despite people social distancing, wearing their masks–parks are fairly busy, stores are partly re-opened, people are active.
The walk had a strong effect on me. The unprecedented stillness other than cars honking and roaring here and there along less congested streets. This has always been a vibrant and fascinating city in which to live in or near to, and walking down the riverwalk was almost eerie despite the beautiful day. It was as if there remained an undercurrent of anxiety. At times, an energy of forlornness. There are many, many more homeless encampments, and people who, perhaps recently became suddenly jobless, now wandering around, seeming unsure where to land, what to do next. But there were a handful of joggers, a few cyclists, too, and walkers. I still felt glad to view the Willamette River and fondly revisited spots along the way we’ve long enjoyed. The sky was so radiantly blue, buildings gleaned. I kept snapping away but was aware of people’s need of privacy in these times–after surveillance by the FBI due to demonstrations/riots, and arrests made by police.
I am hoping against hope we get our city back–with changes that include far more justice for all and help for businesses that have been shuttered or nearly so. But I surely don’t know if it will truly come back in “full dress”–as the buoyant, open minded, easy-going, entertaining place it has been for decades before such troubles. COVID-19 impacts us all, and likely will have more trickle down effects. But I offer one view from a person who loves Portland, who at 19 decided I one day would make a home in the Pacific Northwest-I have been here 30 years now.
I plan on visiting city center returning more as warm weather returns and greater numbers are vaccinated and…well, maybe our great city center will brighten up, lively once more. I’ll then share pictures of all I did not or could not see that February day.
The marina, shops and restaurants above are usually teeming with people.
An imperturbable demeanor comes from perfect patience. Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune and misfortune at their own private pace like a clock during a thunderstorm.—Robert Louis Stevenson