Exploring

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It’s amazing how much a person can see when really looking. I wonder how much I miss on a daily basis, how much I don’t spy with my little eye: drops of water, chimes on high, giggle worthy stickers, and creepy looking heads; all fun, all magic, that quotidian spark.

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Happy Friday! Apropos of nothing, indeed. Look at this crazy beautiful light in the living room. I am loving the long afternoons and genuine sunsets as of late.

A most impressive front yard display!

Goofing around…

…making apple crisps with my new Japanese Mandoline. Why didn’t I get one of these sooner?

Bird!

Goats!

Have a super weekend…

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Hi there! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! Happy Birthday to my Great Aunt Mary, the kindest woman I ever knew, who would have been 106 today! I am not wearing green, but I do have a bowl of cauliflower soup with roasted jalapeno happily swimming in my belly. Does that count?

And now, a step back in time, to Saturday. We had brunch at Olympic Provisions to fortify us for the walk ahead. This is not your typical brunch, not in the least. Everything impressed. Service with a smile, a wink, a nod, and a laugh. Then there were the consumables. The Edith Piaf cocktail was as tasty as it was beautiful. The badass plate of food is the Braised Short Rib, with laser potatoes and lardons, because that hunk of meat was clearly not enough. The hubster, beyond pleased with his choice, devoured it in no time. I had the biscuits and gravy, and they were the best I’ve ever tasted. Boom! To top it off, the chefs were very kindly to us, engaging in conversation while they worked their tails off to make every last belly full and happy. They even gave us a plate of fresh house smoked trout, just because. Oh my, my…

buttercup winter hazel

blossoming quince

Like all of Laura O. Foster’s walks, we learned a little more history and saw Portland in a new light, despite having walked and driven by these buildings a thousand times. Take Jantzen, for instance, did you know they were originally manufacturers of sweaters and hosiery? When a local rowing team asked them if they could make a lightweight suit for winter, the world of bathing suits was forever changed.

Hi!

This bulldog, originally from a Mack Truck, is now happily ensconced on a Volkswagen. Or maybe not. I don’t suppose anyone can ever truly know the feelings of a hood ornament.

We stopped for a sweet at Alma. The icons are chocolate!

Lone Fir Pioneer Cemetery – Funny how the clouds came just in time for the photo…

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3.14

Happy Pi Day, peeps! What’s shakin’? Oh, it’s a hodgepodge today, starting at the front door. If you’ve been here a while, you know that I made this fused glass piece to keep the prying eyes of strangers out of my house. At least through the front door, as I am a blinds open kind of person, so much of our life on the main floor is rather fishbowl-like.

The hubster does not like having his picture taken, but I make up for it with mad kitchen skills, copious cuddles, kisses, and such-like. He is sort of wearing my hat.

Cloud monster belching!

The Oregon Grape is blooming. It smells heavenly!

Thank you for your concern about Paris. She continues to be wobbly. The new state of affairs, I suppose, but is just as sweet, soft, and purr-y as ever. Good girl!

Milo in bright light. He is as cuddly and sweet as ever, too.

I normally find the work of taggers akin to dogs pissing on bushes, but this, I like.

Detail of White Fang, by Hickory Mertsching. Part of a series of paintings currently on display at the Stumptown on Division. Wowie-zowie are they gorgeous!

The magnolias are blooming!

A leisurely lunch at Fressen. Spaetzle with Kraut, a small salad, and almond cake. And the floors! Golly gee are they gorgeous!

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Rambler

 

Hullo Sunday, with a longer than expected walk in warmer than expected weather. Dare I say a tad humid? Most definitely, air fragrant with ripe, moist earth and delicate blossoming daphne, cherry, and plum.

Our walk went long because of Paul, whom we met while I was gaping and guffawing at his 1960 Two Door Rambler Wagon (keep scrolling to see the terrific details). He also had a pretty fabulous Chevelle Station Wagon, a gorgeous blue of the midnight sky variety. We chatted a bit, and he asked us if we were in a hurry because the garage held yet another treasure, this 1932 Chevrolet. It’s a dazzler.

The steering wheel is wood and hand made.

It has a glorious patina in a thousand shades of rust. When I asked him if he was going to paint it another color, he uttered, much to my delight, “Rust IS a color.”

It is a gem, truly, with parts gathered here, there, everywhere. And when I heard the pleasant rumble of the engine, I smiled and said, “That’s alright!”

It really was. How lucky we were to catch him at the right time!

The Rambler. Like driving the summer sky…

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