On Easter Sunday, we took our old dog out for a quick trot on Mt. Tabor. He loves sniffing around the mountain, but doesn’t care much for the fenced in dog park.This year Easter happened to fall on 4/20. Hoards of stoners milled about celebrating the stoniest day of the year by getting high in the highest place within walking distance. It made for a very silly day. As our kids skipped brightly though the daisies in their matching Easter frocks, goofy dudes with glassy eyed grins drooled with pleasure. “Those sure are some pretty dresses!” growled one very scary looking fellow. The girls beamed with pride. Everyone we passed cooed in blissful admiration at our trio of pastel princesses.Although they adore the flounciness of a tiered skirt and the shapely curve of cap sleeves, these girls also loves sticks. Luckily Mt. Tabor is literally littered with sticks. After each girl carefully selected her special stick, their purplish reign of terror began… Until someone accidentally bonked herself on the head. Although it looked extremely painful, we were able to regroup and soldier on. Who sits in this tiny chair?Is this miner’s lettuce? The leaves are not quite round?Are those monkey bars? After a whole lotta swinging around, our tummies started to rumble. The stoners all winked, “We know what that means…PIZZA!” So we headed straight to Pizzacato, the closest pizza place around, and stuffed our faces with fat slices of pie. Happy Easter dudes!
Recently our family visited the annual Trillium Festival at Tryon Creek State Park.
From the parking lot, we passed a tent selling plants but too eager to start exploring the forest, we decided to hit it up on the way out. After continued down to the visitors center, we discovered a cool set up for the kids featuring the pelts of different animals that inhabit the surrounding forest. Plunging our fingers into the soft fur, we tried to guess which animal we were feeling. The fox was the trickiest because we didn’t realize how small they are. The beaver’s sharp claws were also very impressive. Caught up in my discoveries, I failed to take any pictures of this, but it sure was fun.
Soon, we began our brave venture into the forest.
Sophia picked up a guide to the local plants and helped us to identify the flora. First find: stinging nettle. I wanted to prevent my children from accidentally brushing against it and just keep peace in the forest.
The girls found all sorts of treasures.
The girls bravely tramped through the moist and mossy trails… Searching the mouths of trees and the bellies of stumps.Crossing creeksover wet wooden bridgesCareful to check for what lurks beneath…Sometimes the girls got lostand deliberated about which path to choose.Sometimes they just had to stop and smell the skunk cabbage.Eventually we made our way homeStopping to admire this giant root ball on the way out.Too tired from our travels, we skipped the plant sale…but there’s always next year!
Sturgeon Lake is located somewhere on Sauvie Island. Not quite sure what the problem is, but once I crossover the bridge that leads there my navigation skills go all loopy. Regardless of the maps I print before I leave, never mind the huge map looming on the island, completely dismissive of advice given by whomever happens to be traveling with me, I get hopelessly befuddled and lost. We ended up driving around the entire island before my very patient husband decided to take the reins. Once I admitted that I was lost – again, we found the lake in a matter of minutes. Still mystified, I can only tell you that it is definitely somewhere on that island.It twas a lot bigger than I imagined it.
After assembling ourselves in the necessary safety gear and gulping a few deep breaths, we embarked on our first canoe trip. It was pretty shaky at first. We all screamed as my brave husband shoved us into the gently lapping waves.
(He was not screaming.)
Once we had our sea legs, we spied all sorts of strange birds. There were eagles everywhere, circling and hovering above us, and hiding in the thickets on shore.
Back on shore, our fearless leader surveyed the scene. After assigning her little sister the dubious honor of scout, we marched along the shore, exploring the rocks and tunneling trees.
As soon as the canoe was tied down, we got back on the road.
And headed to Kruger’s Farm for refreshments.
Picnicking beneath the trees proved to be too much of a temptation for our intrepid daughter. She could not help climbing.
Both girls also had a lot of fun chasing each other around this giant tire, leaping from it, and climbing inside.
Kruger’s Farm is also located somewhere on Sauvie Island.
Shhh…I have top secret information. This garden charges admission, and it is totally worth it, but still…I hate paying for stuff! I am definitely a tightwad, a skinflint, cheap, whatever…I’m just not into paying. So, I visit early in the morning, before the volunteer desk jockey has arrived.
The photos in this post date April 15, 2013. The cherry blossoms are in full effect, but the rhododendrons were just starting to bloom. They usually culminate in an awesome display sometime around Mother’s Day.
A secret garden for everyone. My daughters share beautifully manicured paths with ducks and geese, while artfully darting between the slow shuffles of elderly visitors. Sometimes we stop at a bench and watch the golfers at the Eastmoreland golf course on the other side of the small lake. They are usually labeled as a fruit that corresponds to the color of their shirt. Like the man throwing a tantrum is dubbed the blueberry. Or the red-shirted guy holding the flag will be known as the tomato. From our vantage point, it seems those golfers are almost always in a foul mood.
The paths wind through several cleverly curated scenes. A meadow lies near the center which hosts several summer weddings. Quite a few ducks and geese make use of it during the off hours. I’d advise stepping around it, rather than tip-toeing through it. In early June we snuck in with homemade cinnamon rolls for an early morning picnic. It was a pretty scary scene. All the goslings and ducklings have grown into the equivalent of brazen teenagers. We ended up running for our lives as flocks of molting birds chased us through the labyrinth of twisting branches. Be careful!
In case, you do miss your window and the man with a white beard is asking for money to enter, simply cross the street and visit Reed College Canyon. There aren’t many rhododendrons to admire, but there are ducks, sometimes beavers, and often herons. See post: Tramping Through the Reed Canyon
After watching Grimm on Monday night, we thought Pier Park looked awesome. Like a Disney sitcom, we yelled in unison,”Hey! We ought to check it out!” (In case you missed it, that Blootbot guy takes the pharmacy fox on a romantic picnic there.) According to my Google map, it only takes 28 minutes to drive there, which might explain why I had never heard of it. Still, Sundays are always good for exploring.
Of course, yesterday the wind blew down a limb from a nearby plum tree. Meaning, we are currently up to our eyeballs in plums. A forager’s burden…Now we must process the plums. The kitchen’s filled with jars and there’s no room to make lunch. Our easy picnic solution? Swing by the Vietnamese bakery to pick up some banh mi sandwiches. They are super delicious! I highly recommend them.
Well, Pier Park is not what I thought it would be. TV really does amp up the glamour factor. The trees are certainly tall, but there are a lot of people just milling about sucking on brewskis (despite the many signs warning against such behavior). In our neck of Portland, people are also swilling beer, but at least they disguise it in Big Gulp cups or strategically crumpled paper bags. Patrons of Pier Park didn’t look too concerned about breaking any rules, so I just “tsk-tsked,” to myself and tried to look the other way.
I shouldn’t be so harsh, though. There were a lot of parents and kids there, too. Not everyone was drinking beer. And, it seemed like there were a lot of middle schoolers trying to woo each other…but I could be suffering from an overactive imagination. It’s entirely possible either way.
The kids loved the playground.
The little one thought maybe the slide would be fun, but when she reached the top, she decided her boots would ruin her ride. She slowly backed her way back down the ladder.
The wading pool is beautifully decorated with a tile mosaic,
and surrounded by strange quotes.
There is a disc golf course, and strangely several people were playing. The beginning bench looks like the perfect place to sit and get yourself ready to play (wink, wink)…I wish I had taken a picture of it, but I didn’t think of it until just now.
Sophia led us around on the paths. She really enjoyed herself and cried quite a bit when she realized that she had inadvertently led us back to the car.
On the way home, we had to stop at Sheridan’s to pick up some steelhead. I have never seen Sam drive past Sheridan’s without stopping in for some fish.
He claims that once he did drive past, but he ended up regretting it the rest of the day. Scratch that, the week!
A magical vortex shrouded in a complex mystery? Maybe.
Almost impossible to find, we drove around for miles before we finally located a tiny portal that led into the shaggy garden.
Although the trees are indeed tagged, like any arboretum might do, the grounds are almost forgotten.
Left messy and unkempt, tree rubbish stands a foot deep.
Critters skittered from beneath our steps. The grass was as tall as my toddler.
I had never heard of this place before, and stumbled upon it by accident while searching online for a good picnicking spot.
It has tables and wasp traps, but not a single other person was there, or appeared to have been there for many, many moons.
Maybe we mistakenly wandered into someone’s secret.
If not for the nagging buzz from the nearby racetrack, I might have been lost forever.
We dropped the eldest daughter off at preschool and planned on heading across the river to check out Tryon Creek…but I became less ambitious and just drove across the street. Before Cesar Chavez hits Woodstock, there are a few side streets that veer off to the right clearly marked with DEAD END signs. This is where our trek begins…
We shuffled down a long flight of stairs. Juliet counted, “1, 2, 3, 5, 2, 7, 20,” the way two year olds tend to do, and eventually we made it to the bottom. The path was a little muddy because of the recent rain, and a little overgrown because that neck is seldom traversed…but not too bad. Juliet plunged through the leafy canopy keeping a healthy lead and a weary eye for spiders.
We crossed a bit of pond, and crossed some small bridges. The path criss-crosses back and forth across the pond and zig-zags through trees and brush. Sometimes we followed a path that led to a a good sitting spot. Sometimes we followed a path that led to some ducks.
We found a plum tree, but the fruit wasn’t quite ripe. Along most of the trail, the ground is covered with a plant that grows delicious looking red berries. I told Juliet that we shouldn’t eat any unless we can be sure they aren’t poisonous. As luck would have it, we passed a group of students clearing a section of the trail. I asked what’s the deal with the berries and was told that they are a kind of wild strawberry, not poisonous but not good to eat. “Actually kinda gross.” So, that explains why there are so many berries left on the bush…Nobody wants to eat them.
Juliet pooped out about the time we came to the first big bridge. I carried her up the embankment. She toddled across to the other side, but I had to carry her the entire way back, including the arduous climb up the huge staircase. I got pretty tired. Still we had a fun little tramp in the woods and had time for a quick nap before we picked up big sister from school. Pretty, pretty cool.