C.A. Carrington, our Portland Correspondent, answers our invitation urging writers to render spring in their part of the country.
We check the rhododendron flowers in the front yard, making sure that there are bumblebee butts within. While we believe the news about bee populations plummeting, this single bush might just revitalize the species.
In May, a not-quite-young woman’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of . . .
Springtime—no matter where I live, real winters or not—always seems to me like a hazy, gradual awakening from a hibernation. Our winters are mild and often rainy, but rarely snowy, yet my body still knows it is the season to slow down, conserve, and rebuild. Come spring, I’m more energetic, yet a bit light-headed and drifty, trying to find my way through spring allergies and the adjustments of temperature, Daylight Saving Time, sunlight, and more.
I’m often not as talkative as I am other times of year (you who know me well, quiet, quiet down now), and tend to be more introspective, less overt, more evaluative and, comfortingly, as judgmental as always (though I probably should just say disparaging).
So, since I can hardly finish a sentence, I’ll work with a different language this time, and share with you some of my ideas of spring here in Portland, Oregon, and the surrounding area.
We enjoy the Columbia River in the springtime. The water always seems calmer in the spring, more peaceful, even though it is flowing rapidly with snowmelt.
Beautiful visitors regularly appear in our yard, stay a while, and then leave, as all gracious guests do.
This seems to be a favorite spot for this squirrel, enjoying the spring rain in a front-yard tree.
Our view is never far from our magnificent Mt. Hood.
We watch a sea lion eat a large trout for lunch, and while we are dismayed at times by nature’s brutality, we do not turn away.
All photos by C.A. Carrington.
Correction: An editor originally misidentified the Columbia River as the Willamette.
