Sinking deep...
T and I took advantage of the cool day to get off the mountain. I don't deal well with heat and the AC in our car is busted. So it was yesterday or not at all.
We had a time constraint with an appointment in Gresham at 3 PM. Where to go, what to do?
A picnic at Champoeg State Park seemed a good compromise. Driving down the mountain toward the valley went from heavy resort traffic that is still relatively relaxed, to deep and frantic city traffic. But then I turned off the freeway and the atmosphere changed. We shed layers and layers of tension. Even our sense of time shifted.
I sank deeper and deeper into history. The farm houses grew older, rambling up and down side to side as each generation added to the family homestead. An organic growth according to need over planning commission codes. The roads grew narrower and meandered around the contours of the land rather than bullying through on straight lines. The fir trees grew thick, the cedars fuller, and the oaks gnarlier.
The land opened up and the horizon stretched. We turned into the park and dumped ourselves into the heart of Oregon's past. Here is where American settlers took a stand against the mighty Hudson's Bay Company and formed their own government separate from and protecting them from the The Company's private fiefdom.
We walked the paths of the original townsite, really just a recently mown meadow with markers where the street corners used to be. Heat radiated from the sun baked land while a maritime breeze cooled just a few feet above the grass. Birds chittered, the river gurgled. Time washed away.
But then we had to return to the car and head back to reality.
We had a time constraint with an appointment in Gresham at 3 PM. Where to go, what to do?
A picnic at Champoeg State Park seemed a good compromise. Driving down the mountain toward the valley went from heavy resort traffic that is still relatively relaxed, to deep and frantic city traffic. But then I turned off the freeway and the atmosphere changed. We shed layers and layers of tension. Even our sense of time shifted.
I sank deeper and deeper into history. The farm houses grew older, rambling up and down side to side as each generation added to the family homestead. An organic growth according to need over planning commission codes. The roads grew narrower and meandered around the contours of the land rather than bullying through on straight lines. The fir trees grew thick, the cedars fuller, and the oaks gnarlier.
The land opened up and the horizon stretched. We turned into the park and dumped ourselves into the heart of Oregon's past. Here is where American settlers took a stand against the mighty Hudson's Bay Company and formed their own government separate from and protecting them from the The Company's private fiefdom.
We walked the paths of the original townsite, really just a recently mown meadow with markers where the street corners used to be. Heat radiated from the sun baked land while a maritime breeze cooled just a few feet above the grass. Birds chittered, the river gurgled. Time washed away.
But then we had to return to the car and head back to reality.