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Archive for the ‘Family/Friends’ Category

The Amtrak train departed Portland exactly on time on a Sunday afternoon in late June and arrived on time the next morning after breakfast into East Glacier, Montana, located on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation.

We had spent the night sleeping on bunk beds in a private sleeping room with the rocking back and forth of the train, feeling a lot like a plane flight, but with a lot more space and privacy.

Most of daylight is along the Columbia River

Our dinner had been served without the dining car, yet a nice dinner was provided to us as we sat in our private room and enjoyed the peacefulness and views out our window. Our Amtrak train from Portland hooked up with the famous Empire Builder in Spokane which travels between Seattle and Chicago. The Empire Builder had a dining car where breakfast would be served in the morning.

The evening meal was simple, fresh and tasty.

We treated that overnight train trip like an overnight plane flight and simply slipped off our shoes, lay down and went to sleep.

Rolling toward sunset

In the morning, we were served a full breakfast in the dining car that we had hooked up with in Spokane, Washington and it had plenty of breakfast options and our choices were well prepared.

The trip offered spectacular early summer views of the river terrain which shifted from forest greens to desert browns as we went along.

Would we take this trip again? Absolutely.

Across the bridge from Portland to Vancouver, Mt Hood in background
Looking at Oregon from Washington.
Our private room
Shifts in terrain as we head eastward
Some areas were desert-like
Major dams

We continued down the river, enjoying the divergent and awesome scenery.

‘til sunset

We arrived in East Glacier Park excited to see the Glacier Mountain National Lodge situated across the street from the train station where we planned to stay for the next four days.

Town located on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, Montana
East Glacier Park
The journey was approximately 700 miles one-way.

The Glacier Mountain National Lodge is very historical and is filled with stories of early railroad and mountain ventures into the Pacific Northwest. The Lodge is designed with huge columns made out of colossal logs, The Lodge offers many options which we took advantage of to enter into Glacier National Park for sightseeing and hiking. We took both bus and boat trips on mountain lakes to get around.

From the Rail station to the Lodge
Looking at Train Station from the lodge.
Our room on the train
Converted to bunk beds at night
Observation car

I chose several photos to highlight the tours we took both by bus and by boat of Glacier National Park, while staying at the Lodge.

Sun Tour Bus trip, Going to the Sun Road
Time out to enjoy the views
Spacious high meadows
Spectacular scenery
Two Valley Medicine Boat Tour
Great water reflections
Headed back to Portland on the Amtrak Train.

This was a spectacular round trip on the rails. It is also the second time we have taken it, and would certainly take it again.

Interested persons can book this kind of trip via Amtrak as a package tour. Or one may book the items separately for timing the train trip, the lodging and shuttle friendly hikes individually.

A nice starting point for this is http://www.nps.gov/glac.

For more information about Glacier Park Lodge, see http://www.glacierparkcollection.com

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It starts with the entangling of two separate branches, 

Mingling  family trees, new traditions, and soft memories.

Chosen by loved ones, finding ways into new hearts 

Starting with shy “hello”s, perhaps nervous smiles, familiarity grows and love does hopefully follow. 

Sharing celebrations perhaps too grand,

Trying new foods, perhaps too spicy or bland. 

Celebrating occasions not always perfectly blended 

Partaking in ceremonies, dutifully staying ‘till they’ve ended. 

At times tolerating jokes that aren’t always that funny, exchanging supportive hugs, soft giggles, hearing happy slaps of people’s backs and children’s wiggles. 

These newcomers, 

Welcomed at first into homes because of love for those who hold their heart in their hand,

And owing to that simple fact, 

The families reach out to these newbies, while hoping they all manage to stay intact. 

So here’s to the family we didn’t first find 

for all the love they since offered 

From their bodies, hearts and their minds. 

May we continue to respect and let their love grow, as our families change and again, newly flow. 

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Abaco Home

This first story is about our home in the Abacos. All photos in this story will be taken within 100 feet of our home.

Backyard
Front yard

No matter the direction, we are in the throes of nature.

Side yard

This place is special.

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Our annual holiday celebrations center around family and friends. Over the last several years, we have met up in smaller groups, but the tradition remains the same.

There was one year at the beginning of the Global Pandemic where only two of us, my husband and I, were available for the celebration. This was during the winter period where indoor socializing had largely stopped. However, we still celebrated.

We often begin the night before a celebration by taking a walk in the late evening. It is a slow stroll, enjoying the bright stars and the moon.  The weather is part of the celebration.  In the winter, we may walk in heavy snow.  In warmer weather, we might be walking under the stars, a cool breeze gently blowing.  We take evening walks during short days and long nights, sometimes in the rain.

In the morning of our declared celebration, we wake up to a great cup of coffee. We may just sit and watch the sunrise, often while looking out the window from our beds.  Children are handed hot cups of cocoa while they sit up in bed, propped on their pillows, enjoying the slow morning.  Inevitably, one of the kids spills a little chocolate on their sheets.  But rarely the whole cup.

One important aspect of celebrating is a special family breakfast.  In our case it is usually home-made waffles and strawberries, topped with maple syrup, with a side of coffee and some orange juice.  We sit at the table together and chat.  It is usually a slow, social morning.

Family members may begin preparing the big meal of the day, planned for later in the afternoon.  The rest of us dress appropriately for the weather of the day and head out the door for a four or five mile hike, or a run. If we are in the city, we might watch a local parade or go to a nearby park.

We return home for another cup of coffee or a glass of hot water with fresh lemon and enjoy a small lunch of bread and cheese, some fruit.  

Relax.  Breathe.

Enjoy.

Appreciate.

When the big dinner is almost ready, we open a bottle of wine and watch the sunset.

We sit at the table, sometimes we pause to say something appreciative about the day before we enjoy a big meal together.

After dinner, we take time out in the evening to tell old jokes and stories. It is not unusual if we have a larger group, to take time out for a jam session where we may play music on a variety of instruments, a sort of small family concert.

It is a “Festivus for the Restovus” of which there are many more to follow, and many ways to celebrate.

Photo taken by the author on the Springwater Corridor in Portland, Oregon.

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Me TOO!

Personal Drawing and Story of my Grand Daughter

Me TOO!

I went to the Park
And a little boy was at the park
When I did something
All he said was “Me too”.
“Me too.” And that’s what
I do to my brother.

This is a poem and a drawing of my grand daughter, inspired by the idea that we should save stories of our childhood that have great meaning to us so that we will have stories to tell to our future children so that they may laugh and learn from them.  She had just experienced, for the first time, what it is like to have a younger child around who wants to do all the things that the older child is doing, while the littler one incessantly shouts  out,  “Me too!”  She whispered to me, “I can’t go up the big slide because if I do, that little boy tries to follow me and I don’t want him to get hurt.”  

She smiled and then added, “I do that to my brother, too. “It had never occurred to her before, to consider how her bigger brother felt about being trailed by a frustrated smaller child who wants to do everything that he does.

We both laughed at the discovery.  I hugged her and said, “Why don’t you write a story about it?”

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Home is by definition the place of our hearth and shelter. It may be as simple as a tent, or as complicated as a 20 story building, but it is still home when it offers hearth and shelter.

Since the pandemic was declared, home is a larger place than just where we stock our supplies and conduct our activities of daily living. We also go to work, to play, or to school while at home, express our joys, share our sorrows and declare our dreams at home.

Home is our atmosphere, our existence, our nook for survival. It is our island of safety and hope.

Home is where we express our despair and agonize over the future. Home is all that we have, if we are lucky, until the world learns how to manage the global pandemic.

May we never lose our homes. For those who have, my heartfelt sympathies. We must work to get them back for you.

I express my appreciation for home by painting a variety of perspectives on our little bungalow to which we recently moved, while depicting the change that we have gone through as we increasingly realize that home is the center of our universe.

We are world travelers and for us to circumlocate to such a small area as home and consider it our major place of stay, is quite a change. But adapt we must, and adapt we are. One way that I am adapting to this smaller area, is through art.

Festival House, acrylic

Perhaps it appears silly to see a tiny home drawn with Roman Columns constructed out of colorful marble, looking garish and far removed from reality. But this painting reflects for me, the home as the holiday, the celebration, the festive tradition.

Home as Safe Haven, acrylic

Home is where we hide when it is dangerous outside. It is the cool blue in the chaos of reds and yellows.

Looking through a microscope changes ones perspective on what one sees in a cell. Focusing on one’s home does something similar. It was always there for us to discover and the pandemic is increasing our attention to it.

I plan to paint many more pictures of home in these upcoming months, while looking at it anew, as through a microscope.

Evening Perspective, acrylic

Thank you home, for offering such a safe haven for so many of us during a time of panic and dread.

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We had an afternoon to share, my granddaughter and I. She said, “Grandma, how about art?” I said, “Sure.”

We gathered up some watercolor paper that is cut for making cards, brought out our brushes, inks and acrylics. We covered my kitchen table with an old plastic shower curtain that I use to protect my good table. We grabbed an empty and cleaned up peanut butter jar to use for water, and started to work.

She used some shells and a sand dollar we had picked up at the ocean for her inspiration. I looked out our kitchen window at all the angles. She decided to play with the starfish and then shifted the shapes and began to ink them in. I played with lines and angles, thinking about some of the wonderful drawings my artistic neighbors did when in the Abacos as they drew lovely, simple, angular paintings of island homes.

At some point, we spilled the water and also knocked over the blue ink. But it mopped up easily, given the plastic shower curtain we had used as protection. We cleaned up the mess and kept right on painting.

Several hours later, we took turns walking into in the other room and holding up the other person’s painting for them to see, more objectively.

We got hungry, ate lunch together and talked.

It was a perfect day.

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Manhattan, Central Park, New York City. 


Waters off the coast of the Abacos, Bahamas.


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Bridge over the Willamette River, Portland Oregon.

Wishing you all a very festive, joyous,
springtime, wherever you are.  

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Springtime

Grasses yellow-green bright, leaves are just buds, blooms appear unexpectedly, and the result is spectacular. I react with raw emotion, reminded of happy times past, hopeful of things to come.

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The aisles are large, the fruit is fresh and on a beautiful sunny autumn day, the mood is glorious.

It’s time to pick some apples.

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