Yesterday was a gorgeous not-too-hot day. In fact, it was the sort of summer day in which one would usually open the windows and let the breeze gently waft through, that is, if one didn't live half a block away from major road construction. So Gryphon and I ventured out. We went to one of Portland's lovely little neighborhood shopping districts, Nob Hill, aka 23rd Street. I left all of my usual trappings at home (camera, purse, journal, etc) and just went with a hat, sunglasses, a couple of dollars, a pen and a piece of paper, previously written on and covered with wine spillage.
I was wearing a skirt with large pockets.
We walked, admiriring marvelous old houses and many tiny gardens, windowshopped, discussed the madness of short sleeved sweaters for women -- now displayed with arm socks, visited favorite shops, drank pints at McM's Ramshead where I wrote a short note for my journal (now glued in). I put a quarter in the Bad Karma Newsbox and selected a rolled up strip of glossy blue paper entitled "genuine photograph of heaven 1999". I don't know how many of these newsboxes exist. I think there is one on 21st street as well, and the first time I saw one was in front of Higgins which now has a retro newsbox with past newspapers in it. What we didn't see were any filled horse rings, another random-acts-of-art-in-Portland feature. I adore this city. By the time we were tired and ready to go back home, my pockets were bulging with "art supplies". Those little music posters, free stickers, advertising postcards, art booklets, a weathered (and expired) poster for an event that I pulled from a telephone pole. I want to make an entire book of those.
I've been reading Janet Marillier's new book, Wildwood Dancing, based on the fairy tale, the 12 Dancing Princesses, in which the narrator/protagonist, sews a special pocket onto her gowns for her pet (and undoubtedly ensorcelled)frog to ride in. I could have used a frog pocket for my gatherings. Gryphon is well behaved enough that he probably will never need it, but it might be useful.
I was wearing a skirt with large pockets.
We walked, admiriring marvelous old houses and many tiny gardens, windowshopped, discussed the madness of short sleeved sweaters for women -- now displayed with arm socks, visited favorite shops, drank pints at McM's Ramshead where I wrote a short note for my journal (now glued in). I put a quarter in the Bad Karma Newsbox and selected a rolled up strip of glossy blue paper entitled "genuine photograph of heaven 1999". I don't know how many of these newsboxes exist. I think there is one on 21st street as well, and the first time I saw one was in front of Higgins which now has a retro newsbox with past newspapers in it. What we didn't see were any filled horse rings, another random-acts-of-art-in-Portland feature. I adore this city. By the time we were tired and ready to go back home, my pockets were bulging with "art supplies". Those little music posters, free stickers, advertising postcards, art booklets, a weathered (and expired) poster for an event that I pulled from a telephone pole. I want to make an entire book of those.
I've been reading Janet Marillier's new book, Wildwood Dancing, based on the fairy tale, the 12 Dancing Princesses, in which the narrator/protagonist, sews a special pocket onto her gowns for her pet (and undoubtedly ensorcelled)frog to ride in. I could have used a frog pocket for my gatherings. Gryphon is well behaved enough that he probably will never need it, but it might be useful.
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