Spring days are a marvel, and I relish them, especially the sunny ones. There have been fewer of them on our part of the coast this year; there has been a lot of “May gray.” Spring is getting away from me, like the bunches of wild poppies I see on my walk, which are starting to thin and fade.
It’s hectic right now. All good things. But TBH, I’m filled with a slight sense of desperation at the sheer speed at which the days are passing and the way things are piling up like a colossal wave that threatens to swamp me. Sometimes I’m letting things choose me, rather than choosing them. Too much of even the best things is still too much.
When I look in the mirror or check in with friends, I am also reminded of my age, which fills me with a sense of urgency. Some of my younger friends are retiring, and some of my mentors are retiring, too. Each of them has mentioned that the pandemic played a role in their decision. It reminded them of the fleeting nature of life and the importance of doing more of the stuff that makes you happy, especially spending time with those they love.
One of the things that makes me happy is visiting my daughter, Natalie. I flew up to Portland for the Mother’s Day weekend. Mother’s Day is not the easiest day for many of us for different reasons. This Mother’s Day was extraordinary, thanks to Natalie.
It was a wonderful weekend. The weather was hot, hot, hot, and sunny - just what I needed. We enjoyed the sun on her apartment’s roof top patio, which offers unparalleled views of Portland, the river, and Mount St. Helen’s. We took long walks through Natalie’s Northwest neighborhood with Max, enjoying the shade of green trees and bright blooms bursting in yards and over fences. We paused in Wallace Park, one of our favorite places. We stopped to chat with people she knows in the neighborhood. Nearly everyone we chatted with commented, “I need to call my mother.” I’m so glad I was able to serve as a reminder.
We explored the Sellwood Moreland neighborhood, staking out a prime spot on the “beach” at the Sellwood Riverfront Park, dipping our toes in the icy water of the Willamette River. It seemed that everyone in Portland was there and in a festive mood. After, we grabbed lunch at The Italian Market (AMAZING). Natalie bought an ice cream sandwich from a man named Eric. He is retired from marketing in the publishing industry. Retirement gave him time to learn to make gourmet cookies and now makes homemade ice cream, combining the two into sandwiches he sells from a street cart. But only on Saturdays, because he wants time to do other things. Natalie says it was one of the best ice cream sandwiches ever. We also visited a Makers Market and scored some wonderful items made by local female artisans.
We enjoyed some of our regular favorites: cheese bagels, luscious blueberries, two dinners from Matador, and Breakside’s Cobb salad. No visit is complete without a shopping trip to New Seasons grocery store. Living near a good market is a blessing.
We visited Powell’s book store and left staggering under the weight of a hefty stack of new books for each of us. Natalie recently saw a TikTok that showed how to use inexpensive wooden plate racks and Command strips to create floating book shelves. We made three for her apartment, and they are fabulous. Like her dad and mom, Natalie has a lot of books. Because you can never have enough books, we also visited her favorite Free Little Library and scored another great read.
In just a few days, I raced through two excellent books: Where the Lost Wander, by Amy Harmon, and The Librarian of Auschwitz, by Antonio Iturbe. I packed them up and mailed them to my mother-in-law, who reads more than anyone I know.
We panicked about missing the aurora borealis. We used our iPhones to capture some images early on, but the city lights made it difficult to tell what we were seeing. We also watched Dune I and Dune II—great movies—and drank a little wine.
We cooked together, making a huge lasagne. This has become a favorite activity. It’s fun to work with Natalie in the kitchen. I love leaving knowing that her freezer is full of something wonderful we’ve made together. Earlier in this post, I mentioned that too much of even a good thing is still too much. This also applies to cheese and making lasagne. You don’t need a third bag of cheese. Trust me on this.
Wishing you a wonderful week.
I don't know about that cheese directive; I think it depends on the size of the bag ;-)