stories

The northwest rains have begun in earnest--last night the rain hit my bedroom skylight so hard that for a moment I thought I was back east--and we're starting the glorious slide from autumn golds and reds to winter's cool grey mists. One of the nicest parts is when the rain stops and the sun spears out, hard, brilliant and golden, completely changing the landscape. It happened early this morning and I just couldn't resist going out back and snapping a few shots. (I think my neighbors have resigned themselves to living next to a crazy woman who grunnies through the mud in her bathrobe and slippers at all hours, taking pictures.)

I smelled my grandfather tonight. Since he's been dead for more than 20 years, it kinda caught me off-guard. Grandpa Morgan was an extremely intelligent, sometimes intimidating man who didn't say much to grandkids (although he obviously got a kick out of us). He took his dog outside for walks a lot because Mom and Dad wouldn't let him smoke his pipe inside. When he'd come back, sweet autumnal smoke trailed him throughout the house.

Remember that bit about all the blind men trying to describe an elephant by touch? Sometimes I think the media is like that. Anyone who thinks that news reporting is always objective might want to glance through the headlines describing the recent exchange between SecState Clinton and the Palestinians: CNN: Palestinians blast Clinton for Israel praise Jerusalem (CNN) -- Palestinian [...]

There are undoubtedly ugly parts of Portland but they're hard to find; this has to be one of the prettiest cities in the US, especially in fall. I keep taking the long way 'round to see my favorite mist-shrouded trees, trembling on the verge of fall color. It's not very efficient of me--the freeway would be faster--but who cares? The sugar maples are glimmering with that incredible, near-neon vermillion, the house-dotted hillsides look like a folk art painting..and I'm so absorbed in driving the city that I miss three phone calls.

The slightest blip on the economic radar these days, and analysts trumpet the end of the recession. But down in the trenches, where the rest of us live, it's hard to tell the difference, says Dewey. Dewey runs a small metal fabrication shop in the industrial district (one of my favorite hangouts these days) and he's making steel mountings for my sculptures. His shop is fast, accurate and relatively inexpensive. The fast part, Dewey says, is because business, frankly, just isn't what it used to be.