wandering goats led me on: crossing the moodswing vales

It all began with a trip to the Wandering Goat coffeebar in Eugene. wind, rains, and lonely days getting me down, this was an escape through a hole in a cloud from the escape I was in.
The 44th parallel, that hazy space where sun worship leads the way, even amid clouds and rain.
a sign that the trollbridges of the City of Roses could not keep me much longer.
and the rains and wind kept blowing, the grey winter coming soon and so with them my moodswing fell as well,
I needed the mountain, the pulse from deep inside it
I needed the sun, must open clouds to find it
but even on the way out through green swept vales she can't make up her mind
the angels have the honey, they're just so hard to find

ooh, Umpqua is a place on earth
land of the thousand cookies and waterfalls

but she still can't make up her mind
Siskiyou what are you trying to do? please let us through.

once there was sun: the Lower MacLeay Park, Portland

once, not so long ago, there was a warm sunny day after a rainstorm, a perfect day for a run through an urban wet forest. the Lower MacLeay is a gateway to Forest Park somewhere in the middle, between the zoo/arboretum complex and the wild ridge above saint johns bridge.
follow the amazing Balch Creek past the remains of a faerie house and up the canopy canyon...to the surprise of the Portland Audobon bird sanctuary. and the trail went on, chirps and big firs and fernhouses

and then taking the wildwood trail down to arboretum, up up hill until the Pittock Acres mansion opens up with that iconic Hooded and Tabored view of the cityscape, making it so worth the hike. rose-patch in front of downtown in front of Mt. Tabor, topped by Mt. Hood hiding behind a cloud. it's all here, in front of us.

There is nothing more Portland than Mount Tabor, boom, boom

....and left this fertile land....

When the rains come and you're feeling down in the Rosy City, nothing quite compares to a visit to Mount Tabor. This is the Portland I remember, the fir smell, the air, one climb and it all came back. The old volcano is a temple of peace in this city, no other city I've been to has anything like it. The ancient fire within warms your heart, others in the park notice it too, it's a little like on Shasta but uniquely itself in its easy reachability. Several buslines take you there, the 14, 15, and 4 at least all go near, and if you have a car you can drive up at least part of the way. Need a break from hipsters on Hawthorne? Look east and up.

"Clackamas, paws, boom boom" beats the heart of the volcano maiden


To the west look down at the city, to the east look out at Hana, Mount Hood
Sister of Tabor
Hana stands clear with glowing white hair
a little pink in the setting sun
her sister called and said come see me
so now I am here and today the sky's clear
so I could walk cross the evergreen branch and go and see Her too
"It's cold up here," She says, "are you prepared?
And storms come quick so leave if you're scared."
Then the wind whistled and all I could see
was millions of Firs putting hands out for me
Timberline, she died here and her ashes were spread
falling like rain on Hana's white head
On adventurous days, she says, her hair turns pink
come next sunny day and I'll get you a drink (spring)
oh Hana oh Hana we sit and watch you from Tabor's green hall in the fall
and down will come baby, Craters and all

hoods like hana
craters and all

miles and miles in black ballet flats: my first autumn day in Forest Park, Portland

...MILEPOST 17 or SO...

on a fallen tree in Forest Park
dewy mush fungus white pod things and longhair moss, green shag carpet and the hollies and ferns along the halloway
Clouds cover today for the first time since I arrived in town
Will today be the beginning of the rain?
I've heard people talk that it is coming, soon
The low constant roar of trucks on Saint Helens Road and Saint Johns Bridge
disappear and slence for a moment - was that the train? I'm deep in a forest.
Wait. the MAX goes through a tunnel deep beneath this Tualatin hill.
...Now I hear voices, human voices, sounds like a radio or phone. (?!)
I'm just taking pictures of mushrooms here, up there glistening in the sun.
what would the deer that ran by say?
I've walked to get here a long way.
Miles and miles in Ballet Flats.
I'm the guard of the fallen trees -
sword as splinter to the tramps
who pass though the moss house of faerys

Miles and Miles in ballet flats.
I walk this far to show you that
I can - alone and guided by no man

Miles and miles in ballet flats
I seek to find you, sister dear
whether playa or Under Ice
I feeel your heart pumping so near

For Faith is still a Flatiron, and I mean the mountain,
just before a quick storm
and Hope is Saint John, waiting for the bus over his bridge
in the rain again at 5 pm
and then there's Other sister, you,
sunning yourself on a piece of the rock you found at the base of an Altar that forms a Bridge
connecting the faerys from here but I've heard youmay fall -
no you'll swing like Wallenda on Tallulah but will NOT fall
if you are walking in Black Ballet Flats!!!

LEAF ERIKSEN
Among the firs which are not really firs, they look more like ferns (cause they're Western Red Cedars)
Ballet Slippers are a gift from the faerys, made by the gnomes.
Oh my, it's getting cloudy, if these shoes get wet, I have to find the Orc to make me a towel in his mill by the river below
(it's polluting the river, but he's a holdout from the old days,
he has a boat and he lives in Oswego and has several Beavers as Maids)
About the park

Cathedral Park, North Portland, OR: Bridge Worship

one of the first things I did when I arrived back on the grid in the beautiful town of Portland was walk down to Cathedral Park on the Willamette River, under the shadow of Saint John's bridge. so thankful to be here I am. walked down the grey sandy shore, "oh dirty river come let me in" - sleater-kinneyfrom standing on the bridge