Last summer I told you about the new oak tree planted in Laurelhurst Park. It was planted right at the roots of a huge oak that had fallen in a spring storm the previous year.
We watched as this new tree, which we named Ken, took root, got green, lost leaves during the fall, and came back this spring. We celebrated his new leaves.
Then, a few weeks ago, an unknown person, for unknown reasons, ripped the top off young Ken and threw the leaves to the ground. We were heart broken. I didn’t tell you about it at the time because it was just too senseless and sad.
I am telling you now because I have a happy turn in the story to tell. Ken’s sturdy roots have sent up new shoots to replace the damaged top! Look there, right at the bottom of the trunk. Oak leaves sprouting up!
I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. Amid all the petty lawlessness, war and climate change, it is nice to know that this tree has not given up.
Since so many of my friends and family are far away and travel is difficult, I have started making cards and postcards to send to folks. There are many things I like about this type of art.
First, it is super cheap. The materials (old postcards, stationary, and magazines) can be found in free libraries and garage sales for next to nothing. The biggest expense in Mod Podge, and one $5 jar lasts a really long time. I also sometimes use acrylic paints as a background.
Next, it doesn’t require great artistic skill. You just paint, snip, place and layer until you like the way the card looks, then glue it down.
Third, each piece is small! You don’t spend a lot of time filling big spaces, and you can do several in a busy afternoon.
Fourth, it is easy to share your art with friends! After pressing it flat under books and protecting it with a spray of Kamar varnish (another expense, but one can lasts practically forever), just put a postcard stamp and a cheery note on your masterpiece and send it off.
Since the back of the postcard won’t match whatever you put on the front, you can glue plain paper to the back. I re-use the insides of envelopes, seen here being glued onto the back of the postcard. It gets trimmed to fit afterward.
And the best thing about this portable, inexpensive art form is that it can be made especially for the friend it is going to. Sweet flowers for Mae, a giraffe for Ruthie, or a beautiful butterfly mutant for Richard. It’s all for you to decide.
Today I am writing about our dear friend Pat van Noy, whom we call Peevee. It is her birthday!
I met Peevee about 20 years ago when she came to University Park Elementary School as a reading coach. She had taught in her own classroom for years, and, one last day of school, she decided to quit. She took a few years off, discovered she missed the kids, and came back to work part time.
We got to be friends and had so much fun together we just kept getting together. I met her son John, who has a different last name, working for a service group in town.
“You teach at University Park?” He asked. “You must know my Mom!”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Pat van Noy.” He answered.
I was so pleased. “She’s my favorite old broad!”
“Mine, too.” He said, and we got to be friends, as well.
She came to parties at our house and got to know Auntie Bridgett, Grandpa Nelson, and, of course, Harold the Stufftie. When we traveled to France and sent emails to friends, Peevee printed them all out and put them in a three ring binder for us to keep. It was so thoughtful! Because of her, we can re-visit our first impressions of Europe way back in 2008.
And Liza, when you got born and were big enough to visit, she got to know you, too.
Happy birthday, Peeves! I wish I could celebrate with you.
I have said before that one of my favorite things about living in a big city like Portland is watching the PEOPLE. The pandemic stole this from us for two years as we all stayed inside and avoided….. people.
Happily, our time at the Grand Floral Parade has begun to mend this gap with humanity. All sorts of wonderful folks were out enjoying the day.
Most of these were folks like us, visitors to the Parade. They made their own parade of kids, dogs, moms, and dads. We smiled at each other, chatted about the weather, petted the dogs and waved to the babies.
Just being able to watch kids play was good for my soul.
Other folks had a mission besides the parade. Several ladies were out circulating petitions to pass legislation to reduce gun violence. We signed, of course, and thanks them foe their work.
This fellow was out encouraging people to find peace in his way, politely handing out Bible verses.
All of them (even us!) were part of this other parade of humanity out and about. And I am glad for it.
This past weekend, we had another step back to post-Covid life when we got to attend the Grand Floral Parade. The parade was shorter this year, only running two miles instead of four, and stayed in the east side of the river, where we live.
Rather than deal with parking and traffic, we caught the Number 75 bus to the the Hollywood train station and caught the Trimet train to Lloyd Center. The whole trip took about 15 minutes and I got to chat with a nice fellow along the way.
We found a comfortable wall to sit on and enjoyed the people parade and the actual parade. One of the things I love about Portland’s Rose Parade is that there are floats and marching groups from so many local associations. The floats aren’t as fancy as in Pasadena’s Rose Parade. That’s okay.
The Electrical Workers Union marched a group of thirty Rosie the Riveters doing a cool routine.
There were Aztec dancers, Rabbis blowing shofars, Chinese dragons, Rose Queens, Japanese Taiko drummers, and clowns.
The dozen or so marching bands played wonderful music, with snappy cadences in between songs. I wish I could insert the video into this blog!
When the parade was all done and the street sweepers came by, we stretched our legs and walked up to McMinamen’s on Broadway for lunch. Tuna sandwiches and cider filled us up.
Rather than take the simple return trip home, however, we caught the train across the river. It’s nice, when you’re really tired, to just sit and watch the world go by. We rested and then caught the Magic Number 15 home. The rain, which had held off all day, poured within half an hour of getting home. Hooray!
After all the music, drumming, and walking, I was worn out and took a long nap. Some dinner and watching the Giants beat the Dodgers rounded out a pretty perfect day.
Last week was the last day of school for everyone. For Cousin Kestrel, it was her last day AT her school. She got promoted from the fifth grade at Abernethy Elementary and will be going to Middle School next year!
The small, friendly ceremony was held on the playground, with just Kes’s classmates and teacher, because each class had its own time. It was delightfully low key and personal.
I was happy to be able to be there and celebrate another milestone in the family.
It was fun, too, to see Kestrel’s best friend Lennon. I have only met her in groups of kids at birthday parties, so it was great to see her unique spirit and understand why she and Kes are so close.
After the ceremony, the girls went back to class and I bought Katie breakfast at the Honeycuspe waffle truck in the food pod in her parking lot. I love how the space is becoming a cheerful outdoor dining spot! The murals, tables, awnings, and repaired paving (which Katie installed herself!) makes it easy to sit and enjoy.
I headed home, full of waffles and happiness, and took pictures of magnificent peonies along the way.
That afternoon, still full from brunch and rested up, I joined Grandpa Nelson on his walk to the river to see part of Fleet Week, where Portland plays host to sailors from the American and Canadian navies.
As the Canadian ships HMCS Edmonton and the HMCS Brandon came up the Willamette River from the Columbia River, the Fremont Bridge, the Broadway Bridge, the Steel Bridge and Burnside Bridge were all raised to allow the ships to pass underneath. We got to the Burnside Bridge as it was raised and clanging, making sure everyone for a mile in all directions knew what was going on.
The fireboat was off to the side, spouting water in celebration. I’m sure the sailors enjoyed the spectacle. I know the people on the riverbank did!
When the bridge came down, we realized that we had walked five miles and were ready for a snack and a sit-down. We found the Forte Cafe at SW Sixth and Washington. It was modern and delightful, with Italian sodas and cookies and unusual art. This wall of fish just tickled me!
There was a framed Robin Williams quote that spoke to me, as well. “You’re only given a little spark of madness.” He said. “You mustn’t lose it.”
This week is the last week of school for you and your cousins, and end-of-the-year parties are in person and fun. For me, that means making cake.
I wish I could be in Salinas to make one for you. That’s not possible for now, but I got to learn something new anyway. Kestrel asked for a chocolate cake topped with strawberries. She also loves mushrooms (not real mushrooms on the cake, however).
Auntie Bridgett suggested I create a large mushroom out of sliced strawberries. That was half of a great idea, but I knew that sliced strawberries would bleed red juice all over the cake and make a mess. Grandpa Nelson suggested coating the slices with sugar, which was, again, half of a good idea.
Not sugar, but…. what? Ask the Internet! The solution is melted chocolate. Just put a layer of chocolate chips on a plate in the microwave for about 40 seconds, some careful knife-work, a few minutes in the fridge, and you have juice-proof slices.
Some frosting and piping tubes made the stem and frills, then I laid the chocolate-sealed strawberry slices like shingles until I had mushroom type shape. Some chopped chocolate chips made the forest floor. It maybe could be a tree, and that’s okay, too.
At Kestrel’s Promotion Picnic, the cake was revealed, appreciated, and eaten all up.
Before the rain this past weekend, we had four wonderful days of sun. Grandpa Nelson and I were able to get out for a long walk. After lunch at Zach’s we headed south through the Richmond neighborhood.
The peonies in Southeast Portland this year are absolutely stunning, and this group in a planter along Lincoln are pure sunny pink and and as big as a dinner plate.
As we were noticing all the blooms, I was stopped in my tracks by this piece of chalk art on a driveway. No one was around to ask about the artist, so we just enjoyed it, photographed it, and moved along.
The next piece of art was less colorful but charming, even so. Someone with less art experience had tried to paint a cat hiding in the high grass, failed, and expressed their disappointment.
Further along, these tall lupines graced the parkway, framed perfectly by a 1920s bungalow and willow tree.
As we were walking, Grandpa Nelson asked, “when you run out of things to write about, will we have to move?” I told him that in five years of writing blogs, Portland hasn’t let me down yet. I think we’re safe.
There are all kinds of art. Painting, sculpture, singing, writing, acting, architecture. All of these consist mainly of a set of skills combined with a desire to explore or show the world in a certain way.
I am not particularly good at any of them. I can draw a cat that looks like a cat if I have to, but it isn’t my strong point.
And, I’m realizing, that doesn’t preclude me from being an artist. Just like so much of what I enjoy in the world are combinations of things, the way images are arranged or layered, can be a work of art.
This is where collage, mosaic, and assemblage come in. The arrangement and layering of paper, images, and objects as a work of art that explores the way the artist sees the world.
To me, it feels more like playing with tinker-toys. I find bits I can manipulate and put them together to make something pleasing to my eye that says, well, whatever I want it to say. And, for want of a better word, I will call it art.
We have had a record-setting wet spring, and it’s not done yet!
After a few days of sun last week, when we went for walks and saw lots of flowers, we had a weekend of rain, wind, and even thunderstorms.
The Rose Festival -opening-Starlight Parade went on as scheduled after three years of being canceled for Covid, but it went on without us. We just couldn’t muster the energy to bundle up and take a bus downtown to stand in the rain for a few hours. The Parade was televised so we didn’t miss it, but it would have been more fun to be THERE. Darn old rain, anyway.
My garden seems to be enjoying the rain. The Dahlias are up and blooming, and the radishes are getting tall and peppery. No squash or carrots yet, but they aren’t as quick as radishes.
We are promised sun this week, and even really warm temperatures. Keep your fingers crossed, but keep your boots handy.
Dear Liza 