On Friday, the sun shone brightly on Portland. Cars were crashing left and right, people practically undressed in the street, children cast aside their crutches and ran rickets-free unto tapped fire hydrants, beer and people spilled out onto the sidewalks as neighbors took axes to each other’s doors and cars to “let a little light in.” Around 10AM at work, people were getting antsy. By 3:30, the office had practically shut down.
Yesterday the glorious weather held. J. and I went to the farmer’s market for the first time since it closed for the winter. The produce was still a little lean.
The organic neo-yuppie bourgeois liberal feminazis were out in droves.
The innocent balloon art vendor from last year was back.
The arms of the lady who took our breakfast burrito order.
Rhubarb is almost in season. This first batch had quite a premium, but I bought some anyway to make cobbler.
Don’t get between a man and his potatoes.
This vendor makes a mean biscuit and jam, or egg and bacon, but the lines were too long. I will eat you one day, you flaky temptress.
After the market, J. and I drove to Council Crest Park to read. The park offers excellent views of the surrounding mountains, but the city is mostly obscured by trees. Pictured is Mt. St. Helens.
The park’s water tower guarded by narrow trees.
J. looking towards the right of your screen. What’s over there?
For dinner, J. and I celebrated our belated 20 year anniversary by going to the Cuban restaurant of our first date. Delicious food is served in casual outdoor seating. A lot of the food seems to be a different mixture of the same basic ingredients, especially when it comes to the sides and garnish. Think upscale Taco Bell. We had plantains, simmered pork dishes, yucca, beans, and rice. Sangria and lemonade with sugarcane were drinks. For desert, we made rhubarb cobbler.
After dinner, J. and I sat in a park and watched ducks in the stagnant water.
Today, Sunday, started with flapjacks for breakfast topped with rhubarb syrup. Afterward, I fired up my scooter and drove out to Sauvie Island. In about 15 minutes, you’re out of Portland and driving on farm roads. When the weather is nice, it’s a great escape. And come May when the first batches of crops come in, it will be a delicious escape too.
Moored houses along the edge of Sauvie Island.
Used oil barrels seen in the industrial area on the way home. A few were making warping noises because of the sun.
If the weather sticks, it will be a very pleasurable time to not be working. I hope the sun can wait five days for me. If it doesn’t, screw it, I’m going Druid.