Christmas in Portland

Recent trip to Portland: 5 days. Freezing cold. Rain. More rain. Constantly raining.

Visited with Grandfather for 8 out of 12 hours of the day. Ate. Slept. Talked. Reminiscing with great gusto.

Thank you, Lord, for hotel rooms that you don't have to clean and sweep and for rental cars that you have to maintain.

Thank you, Lord, for mind-numbing, sleep-inducing cold medicine.

Saw falling snow for Christmas this year, and didn't even have to go into the mountains!

Powell's book store in Portland sits on its own block of the street. One entire block. Four levels of rooms filled with books. You can only imagine what the poetry section in the Blue Room was like! Bibliophile's delight.

The Japanese Garden is the sweetest thing to walk through on a chilly, wintry day. Rain drops on bare branches. The moon bridge over slowly rippling brooks. Wisteria arbors covered with crawling branches. Poetry stone along the gravel pathway.

Portland's art museum. Van Gogh's The Ox Cart. Tiny oil lamp dated from 1-99 CE. Silk prints for kimonos.

93 y.o. grandfather remembers my name, but forgot what I look like. He loves origami cranes! Why wasn't there a dictionary to decipher Grandpa Aphorisms and Declarations?

Thank you, also, for home. Sweet home. Coming home is the best thing ever. Second only to arriving home to a delicious home-cooked meal -- cooked by younger brother!