Saturday, July 20, 2013


Where do I even start? How do I explain what it feels like to smell these smells, feel this air? I first came to the Pacific Northwest in the summer of 1986, the smell of the morning haunted me from the start. The dried out grasses, baked all day in the sun, cooled over night, releasing fragrance from the moisture of the chilly night. It has always been this heady aroma for me, full of the romance of my first time here (I was at Evergreen State, studying Ecological Agriculture, which mostly meant I worked on an organic farm and learned how to graft fruit trees, which was very cool.) One whiff of this, and I feel at home. It's not the cute stores or the bike lanes that break my heart, it's the stuff that grows out of the ground, and the ways it smells.

Then put some of my deepest friendships on top of that, and, well, I cried from happiness a few times my first day here.  Some snapshots. James in Forest Park. 

Our first Portlandia moment. Just as I was about to explain what, in fact, Portland was, we arrived upon a white lady doing an interpretive dance photo shoot in a creek.

We met up with Kronda and Diane for ice cream at the new bougie place that opened after I left. Kronda and I have been friends since the early 90s and Diane and I were across the street neighbors and very close friends for many years. These are two of the best people on the planet. Weirdly (because I used to have a lot of parties where my friends met each other) they hadn't met each other til we got ice cream together.

Another shot with Kronda.

Rupert and James have been getting to know each other on the phone some leading up to this trip. They meet in person! My son has a fairy grandmother!

Jensi and Carmen (Carmen came home later; we didn't get a photo) bought a house! I got to see it! James and Jensi got to meet!

By the end of the day, we had all been up for 21 hours or so, and I was not even tired. Just happy.

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