CRASH!
Before most of the country went into deep freeze, before Texas dominated the headlines with broken pipes and a broken power grid, Oregon was already under a coat of ice. But before even that, in the wee hours of a windy January night, our tale begins.
Continue reading “A Winter’s Tale”
It’s been crazy in Oregon lately, to the point I now find myself under house arrest.
Continue reading “House Arrest”
Every year, in late winter and early spring, Mother Nature sets a time bomb.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Here’s a challenge for you. Name a shrub that flowers in the middle of the winter. I’ll even show you a few pictures.
Not a very inventive title, is it? What’s up with that?
“I bet nobody can get a good picture here!”, said our photography instructor. On the face of it, you’d think he was crazy – we were along a stream bed in a lovely valley. But he had his reasons, apart from giving us all a challenge.
Standing on the fringes of a millionaire’s mansion, we looked out over the city. Mount Hood stood across from us on the horizon, acting as a counterpoint for the rising September moon.
It was a chilly February night, and the crowds had only begun to show up. The Portland Winter Light Festival was the draw and with a messy snowstorm in the forecast, this night was prime to be popular.
“Fooooooooooaaaaaaaammmmmmmm.” “Fooooooooooaaaaaaaammmmmmmm.” The man in the front of the room encouraged on the followers, “Fooooooooooaaaaaaaammmmmmmm.” The old, respected guru was about to enter. What sort of cult was this?
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Ah, the joys of listening to a piledriver.
And how is that relevant to the serenity and contemplation one might find in a Chinese Garden? Read on.
