Shoeprint? Or stencil?

Seen through a window.

(Good question)

More expressions of the body politic.

It snowed this morning in the valley. Just enough to make a bike ride across town pure pleasure. This really is the deepest point of winter here. I like it much better than the months of November and December, simply because it tends to be colder and there is a gradual improvement in the amount of light we get everyday.

My grandmother died a couple hours ago. I'm in a reflective mode right now, thinking about some of the more merciless aspects of life. Long story, but if someone had told me at the age of 13 that I'd receive the news of her death (mere miles away from the scene of expiration) on a cold Portland sidewalk with barely a twinge of emotion, I would have been astounded. I wonder how unbelieving I'd be now if I could peer into the future. I'd guess thoroughly.

So, behold a few images from the lovely Columbia Gorge, the result of a Flexcar trip several days ago with Ms. Sarah Magrish, newly 29 and a seasoned adventurer.

Summer... what?

As I rode around in the rain yesterday, I found my mind occasionally wandering to this ship that was berthed next to the Steel Bridge the other day. I kept struggling to remember its name, beyond the word summer, with which it seemed to be taunting passersby. Somehow I just could not grab hold of it. Was it Summer Fantasy? Summer Paradise? Summer Promise? Did I forget to take my daily dose of Vitamin D or something?

Well, the unintentional black humor temporarily anchored in the City of Winter Doldrums was appreciated. By me and my camera, at least.

Oh, right... fortune.

"Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity." (Flaubert)