The Crepe Myrtles are blooming. I like the lightness, the delicacy, the light here.
After a run of good days, Diego and his sensitive system is having a challenging morning. Another day I am so grateful I have a washer. Every day I think about folks living in migrant camps and refugee centers and it makes my heart ache a little. This accident of birth and genetics that I ended up here.
A letter came from the property management company day before yesterday and I waited until yesterday to open it assuming it was a rent increase. The news was better than expected. If I can show proof of renter’s insurance (which I will need to get) I can sign a 12-month lease with no increase.
We have had issues with drug addicted individuals on the property. I must say I am proud of my resourceful neighbors who banded together and interacted with the police (all female officers) and made it clear that the problematic interlopers will be arrested if they are seen anywhere near the cars and the property doing anything suspicious.
It is the pandemic and the summer. There are way fewer people out and about and the folks suffering and living on the edge are feeling a sense of impunity. We have all been noticing it for months. Charity was like a Mama Bear about all this…fierce.
I went hiking with her on Monday. We have actual wooded hiking trails up behind us on land that was reclaimed from a mill and logging operation as well as water management in the 1800’s. She had never been up there, and I didn’t think about it because of her preference for the flatlands by the river. But another neighbor had been up there and had seen a Barred Owl and she wanted to see it too.
Looking at the trail map online I figured out a hike that was about 5 miles and brought us back into areas we have walked before, easy and relaxed.
We got to the trailhead shelter. There is a porta potty up there and even though it wasn’t all that early there were two men waking up from sleeping bags smack in the center of the shelter and another shadow boxing on the grass above the wonderful mosaic made by local artists and school children. Although Charity and I spent a little time admiring it and identifying the local animals depicted it was clear these men all wanted us gone telling us the trail head was that way.
Having just notes and not looking at the map I led us confidently up the trail, umm, in the wrong direction.
We hiked up and talked and looked for owls. Charity has this endearing habit of waving at other living things we encountered. There was a lot of waving at a wide variety of slugs and snails on the trail, chipmunks and Steller’s Jays, which are gorgeous but raucous birds.
As we are nearing the top of the ridge, Charity says, oh is that Washington Park? And I am like eek, it was Council Crest. We had hiked for an hour on the trail the wrong way.
Luckily, she is full of a sense of delight an adventure and hadn’t been up there in at least 15 years. It was an overcast day, which is why we were hiking as the temperature was manageable. We had canceled my garden visit over to the Sherlock’s the day before because Mr. Sherlock chills down easily and it was a bit too cool to sit in the garden for a couple of hours.
Still even with the clouds we could see the beautiful ribbon of the Columbia from up there. We ended up coming down, mostly the way we came. It was fun in a my bunions are a little sore but it was worth it way.
I am teaching feet this week so that helps.
We met a lovely woman and her 17-year-old golden retriever up there. Her companionship with this talkative dog that can still roll in the grass was touching.
Wish Diego a better day, will ya? This is hard.
Oh and I actually got a response from my Senator to my views from the previous entry. He encouraged me to keep speaking up.
Last updated September 03, 2020