Thoughts from Portland

It’s ridiculously green here, like someone stole all the green crayons from a 64 pack of Crayolas and used them all the way down to a nub. There are trees anywhere and everywhere from the unexpected forest along the train track to the cherry blossom tree in front of a bank in downtown. I’m even appreciating the never ending “scattered showers” that seem to blend together, knowing they are why the landscape is so vibrant and alive.

I like Portland as a city. It’s slower than LA, but it still seems to move. There are people pouring out of buildings with every sort of attire, all heading places with purpose, but courtesy. I’ve about perfected my Portland Pedestrian wave, the jaunty “thank you” that walkers pass over to drivers when they stop. But don’t misunderstand me; Portlanders are not lackadaisical in their movement. Locals check for cars but not for crossing signals, speed limits are acknowledged but not followed exactly. I like the pace. It’s a city getting where it needs to go, but not at the expense of others.

We saw a jug band on Sunday. It was a perfect moment out of time, as we hurried past the persistent food stand hawkers at the Saturday/Sunday Street fair and heard the soft strains of a banjo. There was a man playing washboard percussion and a woman playing the washtub bass. It was an Emmitt Otter’s Jug Band Christmas dream come true.

I’m not ready to leave Oregon. With the beauty of the drives and the convenience of the train, I’m not looking forward to returning to the pavement and rush of “normal life.” But I’ll be back, hopefully in the summertime to view the roses in bloom. :)