Enter the Gray

The inevitable finally happened, the blue skies disappeared behind a wall of gray clouds and the sun became a distant memory. Okay, that's a very melodramatic way of saying it's going to be raining for a while and there's not much that can be done about it. I went to a photography workshop yesterday afternoon, and one of the things the instructor said to do was embrace the overcast sky and the lighting it affords. That sounds potentially soggy to me, given those gray skies' penchant for moisture, but she does have a point. If you can't make the sun shine, you might as well get used to it. Given the looming clouds, this morning's sunrise wasn't really on my radar. However, when I looked out the window it was obvious there was more going on than expected. The autumn trees peeping up from below added some welcome spots of color, and I was glad I had dashed out of the house in my rather unkempt state to capture the show. What a great way to start a morning. After church and lunch, it was time for that favorite activity of grocery shopping. I am hard pressed to think of a chore I dislike more than spending money on stuff that I then have to figure out what to do with, cook, freeze, etc. To make it a little more entertaining, I decided to go for a walk in the local area and see if there was anything interesting in the neighborhood. 

Fall and spring are great times to find colorful patches in yards, even if the skies are gray.

This particular "patch" was kind of hard to miss. From the sign on the driver's side door, it was somebody's swap meet treasure. I'm just curious if the wife was as excited as the husband over this rare find.  A little farther down the road there was what appeared to be an abandoned orchard, with neglected apples drooping over the post and wire fence. Next to that was a peaceful trickle of water (for now, soon it's likely to be a raging torrent), and alongside that was a stately willow tree. I went back the same way I  had gone because quite often you miss something the first time around, as was the case today. I saw bright orange blobs out of the corner of my eye and realized a pumpkin patch, in various stages of being harvested, was growing behind someone's house. You never know what you're liable to find growing, grazing, or clucking in various parts of Portland.

This next story has nothing to do with any of the pictures, and in fact there are no pictures to go with it but I'll see what I can do with words. Yesterday was the last weekend for the local farmers' market, which is always a sad occasion because it seems to add a note of finality to summer's end. I was walking up the street carrying a load of corn and green beans and realized I would go right past the strawberry bushes that are planted alongside the road. Surprisingly, there were still a number of green berries and new blooms to be seen. Farther down the road was an elderly man with a gapped-tooth grin and absent-minded professor hair. I've only seen snippets of Back to the Future, but just envision Christopher Lloyd at this point. He called me up to where he was sitting amongst the strawberry plants trimming the extra long runners. Seemingly oblivious to the soggy ground he sat on, he introduced himself as Roger and held out a gloved and rather grimy finger for me to shake, reminiscent of a pinky swear. He then gave me several of the plant cuttings as well as instructions on how to plant them. I thanked him and said goodbye. As I walked on, Roger's voice followed me as he continued singing a little tune, with strawberries apparently being the main subject. Considering the condition of those plants, they obviously enjoy Roger's singing.

Tales of a Tightwad Walker

I'm tight with money, I admit it. The word frugal sounds better, but it all boils down to the same thing: if I can save a few pennies by exerting a little effort, I'm more than happy to do so. Examples of this are walking around the apartment in seven layers of clothes during the winter to avoid turning on the heat, making three meals out of my favorite Chinese  takeout, and walking instead of driving as much as I can. The last one is especially helpful in finding new pictures to take since taking pictures while driving full speed is usually frowned upon. Besides, the pictures are usually rather blurry and about two seconds too late. But I digress.

One other area where this frugality comes through, especially in the summer, has to do with berries. When I moved here it was in October and I wondered what these long, treacherous looking thorny vines were that seemed to grow all over the city. Well, come summer I discovered that what looked like some random relative of the wild rose family was actually a blackberry bush. There's just something about blackberries when they're picked off the vine on a warm summer day (assuming they're ripe of course, nothing will pucker your face up like a tart blackberry). They just smell like summer. During the evenings in July and September, I often spend a bit of time picking blackberries in the nearest neighborhood bramble. They're wonderful in oatmeal, cobbler, fruit salads, well you get the idea.

Flowers abound at the market

A few weeks ago as I was walking home from the local farmers market, I noticed what appeared to be strawberry plants growing along one particular stretch of road. I found that rather odd and didn't bother them in case they were someone's garden. On later reflection, it seemed unlikely that anyone would plant strawberries across the street from their house and I decided the city must have planted them. This was backed up by my discovery last week of blueberry bushes growing along the route I take during my lunch hour walk.

Being the health conscious person I am (ahem, well sometimes am), I decided to go strawberry picking one evening last week. Camera in hand, of course, I started off on the three-mile trek. Along the way, I came across some beautiful flowers growing in the yard of an elderly English couple that I have had the pleasure of visiting with in the past. Further down the street there was a fascinating specimen of a banana slug, but I'll spare you the gory details. Nothing makes me shudder quite like a slimy slug oozing its way through life.

Finally, I made it to the street with the berries. There weren't a lot of ripe ones yet, but there were enough to sprinkle on at least two bowls of oatmeal. After picking the berries, I headed back home along one of the busier streets in town that also runs alongside one part of the local country club golf course. I don't play golf, frankly I find it boring, but I will say that this part of the course is rather lovely with the pond, willow tree, bridge, and fake swan.

Yes, a fake swan, rather like some juvenile giant's rubber ducky. Regardless of the fake bird, I did want a shot of the pond and the tree and bridge reflected in it. There's a guardrail along the road (to keep the blackberry bushes from encroaching) and after stepping over it I started to make my way down the small slope to the path around the course. Trouble was, my feet slid out from under me and I slipped and landed on, sadly, my strawberry bag. I have to admit to holding in a chuckle because it is pretty funny when you think about strawberries being smashed en route to take a picture of a fake bird in a fake pond (for all I know, the tree and bridge aren't real either). Upon further examination I could tell at least three or four berries were still intact so it wasn't a total loss. At least I got some decent pictures out of it. I'm tempted to enter them in the local photo contest under the title "Fake Swan Lake" but I'm not sure I have enough nerve to do that. The swan was photo shopped out of the picture above and to the right. After all, if the swan is fake, then there's no harm in doing a little fakery with the picture either.