place
I sit at home in the early evening listening to my guy read and sing. our house is filled with the green of the trees that have taken over our back yard. No trimming, wild and full. Up on our hill on the edge of the city. Grey high clouds drizzle moisture. Tales of California, San Francisco, that I have so many connections with make me wonder at living here so far north of that experience. A completely different visual. Larger bridge, Cool ocean air and fog, victorian homes. (As I drove down the hill yesterday there was a thick fog lying on the river and covering downtown. No camera at the ready - no wide angle lens anyway. Mental image only left. There's something about fog that is calming and still. The city has to pause, like waiting for the bridge to close.) Similarities to Portland, but more vibrant, more mixed. Braver and more intense. Portland is basically as old as San Francisco (don't fact check me), but is slower, even with the influx of Californians. A cousin, perhaps, that's a little more down to earth. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the landscape. Most of Portland is gently sloped, S.F. up and down in twists. We live at the top of a great valley of green. We live at the apex of valley, gorge, mountains and rivers. I can't see it all, but know it's there. I can get to it in an hour maximum. And while we don't live on the ocean, it also is only a short drive away. I feel so calm taking in our house's green yard. San Fransisco is a place to view, to take in, to experience. Portland is a place to create. My guy thrives in his creativity here. I will get back to it. Fall will ground me. Inspiration will come. Follow through will materialize.