touching history

A long ride in the car was cut short because of a certain little girl in the back seat loudly proclaiming her dissatisfaction with nearly hysterical tears.  We had meant to get in at least another hour of driving and hopefully across the border from California to Oregon before stopping to let Clio stretch her short legs.  But instead we stopped at the nearest park we could find which happened to be Jedediah Smith Campgrounds in Crescent City.  

We had no idea that when we stopped there it would be one of the most amazing parts of our road trip up to Portland.  It felt as if we stepped out of our car directly into prehistoria; surrounded by towering and ancient redwood trees.  Over their thousand plus years growing they stretched to the heavens and being in their presence left me feeling minuscule and humbled.  I had seen them before, when I was just a kid myself, but seeing them as an adult with my own child in hand gave me a new appreciation for them.  Only about 5% of their numbers are left now.  These massive and ancient things were nearly completely wiped out by the logging industry in the mid-nineteenth century.  

What was supposed to be just a thirty minute stop for the sake of our sanities ended up more like two hours. It was the most pleasant two hour delay I've ever had.  If only all the delays I've experienced over the years at the hands of various airlines were this pleasant...  

Sometimes the best moments in life happen by accident.  

close behind

On the beach the salty ocean splashes her jeans, changing their color from periwinkle to deep navy.  The water of the Pacific is bitingly cold here, making me wince as it touches the soles of my feet.  But she doesn't seem to notice it like I do for she has the fortitude of youth and I have the comfortability of near middle age. With handfuls of wet sand and hair whipped by the coastal breeze she drives on through the receding tide. Frequently she stops, smiles up at me, points to the surf and chirps, "Mama!" as if confirming with me that I too am seeing the grandeur of the ocean with a novice's eyes.  I scoop her up and bury my face in her hair, breathing in the faint scent of apples intermingled with the slightly bitter odor of salted earth.

It's magic.  She is magic.

She arches her back in my arms and squirms to be set down.  There is no time for snuggles and kisses now. Too many birds to chase.  Too much water to feel.  A barking dog somewhere in the distance is waiting to be discovered.

I want her to stay mine forever; my sweet girl full of trust and absent of fear.  But I gently place her feet back on the cold wet sand to let her toddle forth ahead of me.  She looks back occasionally to assure herself that I am still near, still following close behind.

I am.  For as long as she needs me.

a hike and a giant fish

Over the weekend (Friday, actually, because I have EVERY FRIDAY off work whoohoo) Leif and I met up with some dear friends to go hiking to Wahclella Falls. 

Our friends Marc and Natalie, along with their son Sam, recently returned to Portland after living in Amsterdam for the last two years.  Even though they have only been back for a week having them here makes Portland feel a little bit more like home already.

Hey Oregon, you Sexy Beast, you.

After the hike we took the kids to see Herman The Sturgeon at the Bonneville Fish Hatchery.  Sam is only about six months older than Clio but towers over her and probably weighs a good ten or fifteen pounds more than she does.  He is the most snuggly cuddly little dude.  When Clio shuns my affectionate kisses for something more appealing like a slimy wet leaf, Sam lets me scoop him up and give him hugs and zerberts.

Who is that kid in the middle?  I dunno.  Just some random kid pointing out the huge fish to anyone who would listen.

I think Clio is in love.  With Sam.  Not Herman.  Sorry Herman.

first birthday

Our little girl turned one last month.  Because her birthday was literally the day before we moved we were really only able to pull together a little celebration with our family and closet friends.  I had grand ideas for a huge birthday party and a photo booth but I quickly realized a couple of things about that idea.  The first is that it is highly unpractical to do something like that when you are living in an empty apartment and sleeping on a blow-up mattress because all of your worldly possessions have been packed and shipped away.  The second is that Clio will have no recollection of her birthday and all that is important is that we were able to spend it with people who love her.

I did manage to get my act together enough to get a cupcake for her to destroy and a cake for the rest of us to enjoy.  Clio was a little hesitant about the cupcake to start and ultimately she ended up with more of it on her face than actually in her mouth but I think she had a good time.

blackberry-blueberry pie

I've love blackberries.  I love their sweet-tartness and the way they stain my fingers.  I love that they look like little jewels; sparkly and colorful.  For as pricey as they were in Los Angeles one could easily assume that they must be exotic and difficult to grow.  Why else would they cost as much as they do?

As it turns out blackberries grow all over the place in Portland.  The bushes are quite literally weeds and people actually spend quite a bit of time and effort in removing them from their gardens.  During these summer weeks one can see them overflowing with the black-purple fruit on the sides of roadways and freeways.  It is not unusual to find them on a casual walk around the neighborhood and to return back home with a belly full of fruit.

Not too far from my in-laws house is practically a wall of the bushes completely laden with perfectly ripe berries.  One morning Leif and I stuck Clio in her stroller and headed up the hill with a plastic dish and our minds set on blackberry pie.

That morning we picked nearly two pints of the berries and probably ate another half of a pint during the harvest.  I had in mind to make a plain blackberry pie but I did not have quite enough berries so I nabbed some blueberries from the fridge and tossed those in as well.

A cup of sugar, half a cup of flour, some lemon juice and zest, and a few crushed up graham crackers (to help suck up the juice) later and I had my filling ready to go.

I used my great grandmother's recipe for the most amazing crust in the world (the secret is crisco people, not butter).  Bonus to this recipe?  Lots of excess dough which I always make into dough logs, dust with cinnamon sugar, bake with the pie for twenty minutes and then greedily nosh on as soon as they are cooled.

I have to admit, this was my first time making blackberry-blueberry pie and certainly my first time foraging for ingredients.  It was a rousing success.  Yay blackberries.  Yay Portland.

whirlwind

Well, we are here, in the lovely city of Portland.  It has been a whirlwind three/four weeks and I still feel a little hungover.  Kind of like this video, actually.