falling into autumn
Last week, as I stood at a street corner just across from Liberty Park, waiting for the walk signal, I felt for the first time in years like a Midwesterner again.  A blizzard of leaves - as silent as snow - fell from the park trees as the winds picked up. I had not seen anything like it since the last autumn I spent in Iowa City, when I stood in the pedestrian mall and wondered how anyone could ever live in a landscape without (mostly) deciduous trees.  I knew at that moment that I would never quite love the Pacific Northwest - with evergreens that give no hint to the season, save a dusting of snow - the same way that I love Iowa. Only this - a blizzard of dead leaves - could se

oxen oxen oxen
On one of my evening walks to Liberty Park, I noticed graffiti spray painted in bright blue on the sidewalk in front of Smith’s. The graffiti was neat, obviously a stencil, and it read: oxen, oxen, oxen.  Now, I notice it every time I walk past. For some reason, whenever I read it, I feel the impulse to stand up straighter.  Maybe it is because I become aware of whatever load I am carrying, or how my posture reflects loads from days past.  Or maybe it’s because the word “oxen” makes me feel a little guilty about whatever I might have purchased (usually nothing).  Something about it feels like an accusation - politically charged, an anti-consumerist message. But what ma

city of children no. 5
My husband and I love evening walks through Liberty Park, an 80-acre urban playground that offers everything from horseshoe pits, monkey bars, swings, a pond (complete with paddle boat rentals), fountains, a swimming pool, tennis courts, running paths, swings, a disability-accessible tree house, and even an aviary with a nearby folk museum. And that list surely leaves out a significant number of attractions.  Every time we stroll through the paths, we discover something new. Last night, we took a slightly different path and stumbled upon a playground area teeming with children, even in the dark.  Parents gathered at the picnic tables to chat with neighbors and keep an eye out fo

Samsara - video art by Natalie Rose LeBrecht + reflections on the economic crisis in SLC vs. Portlan
Natalie Rose LeBrecht, a good friend of mine from the U of Iowa days, has always created profoundly original and strange (in a good way) music - the kind of music that you feel with your whole body, tingling even in your tooth caps and fillings. Lately, she has been sharing video art via YouTube. Here, a girl (portrayed by Natalie herself) desires only the sweet burst of flavor from a new piece of gum, not the dull, rubbery taste of the one she already has.  She rejects the old gum and expects an instant replacement - instant gratification.  When she finds herself going without, she feels pain

stranded
Sorry for the long space of time between postings.  It has been a busy week in my classroom, with many students catching up on assignments and needing assistance. From now until the end of the term, I will likely only post two-three times per week. This is always the hardest part of teaching - how it occupies most every “free” moment of my days.  But helping students to develop their writing is well worth all the effort, even if it means a little less blogging time for me. Stranded In Portland, my husband and I lived on the edge of the downtown Pearl District, just blocks from the college where he worked (and where I taught for a short time as well). He could walk the