In the Oregon Hills

I can’t remember how I learned to read. I don’t recall the teacher’s patience to help me sound out vowels and consonants. Nor the prompts to form these sounds into words. Was I encouraged at home by my parents? If so, there’s no memory. That process disappeared with time. Yet, the gradual step by step … More In the Oregon Hills

Notes To My Grandson

On the day you arrived, temperatures dropped into the single digits. A winter storm had battered Northwest Oregon for three days. Feathers of dry snow fell in the mountains and throughout the Columbia Gorge. The Hood River Valley, which is named for the town that would be your home, rested under a thick white blanket. … More Notes To My Grandson

Cabin Fever

Recently, I walked along Hood River’s waterfront. The path I take is 3.5 miles out and back. The fresh air acts as an antidote to the cabin fever that persists during Oregon’s winter months. The Port Commission has patiently developed this resource over the last three decades. Another decade of fine tuning should bring the … More Cabin Fever