Summertime on Sauvie Island

Another magical Oregon day spent out on Sauvie Island (remember the pumpkin patch??) with Grammy, Pops, our friend Tricia, and our crew. We picked eight pints of organic strawberries, chatted with some very noisy pigs, and explored a lavender farm. Yes, the beautiful Oregon summer has arrived. Under a bright blue sky and seventy degree temperatures we picked ruby red strawberries and sat in awe of Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, and Mt. St. Helens, all of which were visible from the strawberry field. What fun!

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggedy, Jig

Jason on top of Mt. Hood!

"Mommy, when you leave a place and move to a new place, does the old place become really special?," asked Rynn as we pulled out of Chattanooga to head back to my mom's house in Atlanta. I'm pretty sure that all my ramblings couldn't sum it up any better. Enjoy a few pictures of our trip to the beach, to Atlanta, and to Chattanooga- first time back since the move. As TS Eliot wrote, "Never stop exploring and the end of your exploring will be to arrive where you began and know the place for the first time."

(all our beach and Chattanooga/Atlanta pics are on my flickr page at http://www.flickr.com/photos/27812539@N05/show/ )



And while we were gone, Jason didn't let the grass get too long under his feet. He climbed Mt. Hood! In the dark! More pictures of this little excursion to come.





Life has returned to normal, though, and we are all enjoying the warm sunshine and blue skies. Jason has resumed his role both in Eleanor's shows as "the fairy god-dad" (complete with his own wings) and as the official teepee builder in the backyard. What's a man to do without his girls except go climb mountains in the dark??

Beachin' It

view from our back porch, photo taken by Clay Morrissett

I've been on vacation- still am, actually- but last week I was truly on vacation from my computer, my cell phone, my washing machine, and most other obligations outside of hanging out with my family at the beach in South Carolina. It was wonderful. If I can figure out how to connect my camera to my mom's computer I'll post some pictures; otherwise, the pictures will have to wait until we are back in Portland.
While we were in Folly Beach, SC I found myself thinking a lot about time- its passing, its space in the present, and its quickly coming as the future becomes the present. As a novel whose first line gains more meaning and is infused with more layers of significance as the story progresses, so the many memories of beach trips gone by filled my mind and gained a new sweetness as I experienced another beach chapter in our lives. We had an unbelievable house which was on a narrow strip of Folly Beach- called the "wash out" because it is precisely that, a washed out strip of a barrier island. From the front porch of our house we could see the pounding waves and from the back porch we could watch the quiet beauty of the marsh as the sun set in the West. The dramatic contrast of these landscapes had very different emotional effects. Jason and I enjoyed contrasting the incessant pounding and unending energy of the ocean with the slow, gentle change of the marsh. Both are repetitive, cyclical, and dramatic and yet, while one bursts with energy, the other brings a quiet peace.
I finished a book this week called OUT STEALING HORSES by Per Petterson. At first I didn't really think I enjoyed the book, but during the course of the week I found that it provided insight into my own life. Petterson describes the landscape saying, "Each movement through the landscape took color from what came afterwards and cannot be separated from it." While he is describing the forests of Norway, Petterson might as well be describing a sunset over the South Carolina low country. As the pink glow slowly grows and the egrets begin to take flight in the sunset, the marsh seems to add layer upon layer of life and color.
Watching my children jump in the waves and build drip castles on my legs or seeing my mom and her sisters laugh and tell stories I felt the repetitiveness of time- the moving forward and yet, like the marsh, the present gaining meaning from all that has gone before. There is life in these coastal islands, life which binds our family together in all our memories past and the new ones yet to be made.
And Clay...thanks for bringing back Grandaddy's beach chair. Love to all of you.

Rynn's "Flyaway " Ceremony

Last night we celebrated with Rynn her graduation from preschool in what was a beautiful "Flyaway Ceremony." The story of Rynn's year at Chrysalis began last summer as I drove through our future neighborhood, lost, at 10pm one night. Happening upon a jogger, I struck up a conversation only to learn from her that her son's preschool had been looking for a four year old girl. I called the next morning and Rynn was enrolled the following day at Chrysalis Homeschool, an absolutely amazing Montessori style preschool directed and run out of the home of Colleen Strohm for twenty-one years. Each spring Chrysalis celebrates those children moving on to kindergarten in a "Flyaway Ceremony" in which the 'big' kids become butterflies and fly away. As we participated last night I was reminded again how God takes care of His children calling us to trust Him even though we don't know what tomorrow may hold.

Rynn contemplates the event on her favorite swing while holding a gift of lavender from one of her teachers.

Eleanor waits patiently as the ceremony begins. She wanted to wear her own fairy wings to support her sister.The graduates file in to take their seats.


Rynn receives her wings from Colleen.

Rynn examines her diploma sporting her new wings.

Joan sings the goodbye song to the three graduates- Woody Guthrie's "So, long, it's been good to know you..so long..." There were few dry eyes as the parents then formed a tunnel through which the kids walked while we sprinkled rosemary-the herb of remembrance- on their heads.

Jason kayaking at Opal Creek

See a video of jason going off this rock ledge at a rapid appropriately named "Big Fluffy."

Click on the link below. Hit 'Cancel' when it asks you to install Japanese (the guy that filmed this was Japanese).
http://f.flvmaker.com/mc2.php?id=6gxcPpC7XhMULHK_GXIJNlqx2ByJyos47NOmVUY4ikDLFAS1m/lFQs&logoFlg=Y

Pink, Pink, Baby

One of the rite of passages of childhood is that wonderful, sticky, gooey, pink eye known as 'pink eye.' One of the rite of passages of motherhood is that wondeful, sticky, gooey, pink eye also known as 'pink eye.' When Eleanor's eyes begin to glow bright pink last week I began the vigorous hand washing and obsessive counter wiping in my fight against that wonderful bacteria called conjunctivitis (sp?). My valient attempts were in vain, though, as Saturday morning I awoke to eyes pasted shut in crusty goo. Somehow I didn't remember this part of it- that gross glue that seals your eyes shut in slumber and refuses to give way when morning dawns.
So, today is Memorial Day, and I'm feeling blue because it is supposed to be the beginning of summer, and instead it is 48 degrees. So, per the suggestion of my mom, I decided to take the girls to soak in the Kennedy School outdoor pool, have lunch, and then check in to the family matinee for HORTON HEARS A WHO. We had a fun day, and I found out that pink eyes mean more than simply 'pink eye' in Northeast Portland. As I asked a waitress/bartender where to buy the movie tickets (the Kennedy School is a renovated school turned bar/hotel/movie theater/music venue/and any other fun thing you can think of), I received a compassionate look of understanding. "Yeah, I know how it is the day after, "she said smiling. I walked away confused, and then it dawned on me as I sat down to lunch and was greeted with a wry smile from the waiter. "You want a glass or a pint today", he said with a chuckle.
"What is it with these people?, " I wondered. Can't a mom take her kids to lunch on Memorial Day? OHhhhhh...I get it. He thinks I've been smokin' something, drinking something, something-something. "No! Wait!," I want to shout, "It's PINK EYE! You know, that nasty little bacteria you catch from kids?." But, I didn't. I sat back, smiled, and ordered some grilled cheese with tater tots. At least the green goo wasn't running down the corner of my eye. Although, maybe then, I would have gotten a free beer.

98 Degrees? Portland, no way...

Last week- shivering in our winter coats at the playground.

This week- sweating and sitting by fans as Portland temperatures climbed to almost 100 degrees. Who shifted the gears without using a clutch?

This sudden change in weather has brought about an interesting change in the Portland landscape of people. Suddenly, it seems there are a lot more women around. I've been trying to figure out this phenomenon, and it comes down to this. Those raincoats, jeans, and layers, which conform all Portlanders even in their self proclaimed nonconformity, have been traded in for skirts, flowered shirts, sundresses. What happened to this gray city? Transformation!

Along the lines of change, I've been noticing other changes lately in relation to light. Just as we were plunged into darkness this winter we have now been whirled into light as our nights have shrunk to a mere six hours. With the light waking me up sometimes before 5am I've begun to feel like living north of the 45th parallel is a bit like being flung around on the outside seat of a Ferris wheel. It's though where we have landed on the planet is just far enough out there to make us feel a bit more of the centrifugal force of Earth. Maybe I just need more sleep.