Wednesday in the Park

Charlie and I just got back from wandering the various trails, pathways and roads in Mt. Tabor Park in Southeast Portland. I have a long-standing love of this park. When John and I first moved to Portland, he worked at the City Parks shops on the south side. We lived within a stone's throw of the park for a bit over a year and then, after one very harsh winter there, moved to the west side of the butte and park where we lived for 11 years.

I remember wandering the park before my kids were born, with John and Hawkeye, the German Shepherd we had for several years. He loved to chase the squirrels there. Some things never change. We took our kids there often to play on the equipment and just for walks.
The park has changed a lot over those 30-plus years. Numerous trails have been developed and, of course, there are also plenty of psuedo-trails that can often be dangerous. It's not always easy to tell the developed official trails from the impromptu trails.

Between the trails and the roads, which are closed on Wednesdays, it's easy to find your way up to the top of Mt. Tabor where the views are remarkable. From one point you look west into the beautiful downtown area, gazing over the homes and schools and other parks -- all the green -- that lie between Mt. Tabor and the Willamette River. Then your eyes settle on the West Hills that form a beautiful backdrop and help frame downtown Portland. From the other side of the crest of the butte you look east at Mt. Hood with miles upon miles of hills and mountains and valleys marching up to the Cascades. Both views are absolutely glorious when the sun is out and the clouds have lifted.

Even though it's several miles from home, Mt. Tabor has become Charlie's and my destination of choice for sunny day walks when we have a couple hours to spare. Because of the hills and stairs, we can get a really good workout if we want. Or we can just wander down the paths, admiring the Johnny Jump-ups (little yellow violets), rhododendrons, the multiple shades of green from the newly opened maple leaves to the deep dark firs. In areas where the grass is mown, it is often dotted with miniature daisy-like flowers. It is truly a feast for the eyes.

Today we watched a robin chasing a red-headed finch. Tiny little birds -- kinglets perhaps, or siskins? -- flitted among the flowers of a hawthorn bush. Birdsong is everywhere, floating through the trees and brush.

As the sun filters down though the big-leaf maples, casting clear yellow pools on the trail, you get the sense you are far away from a large city. Until you round a bend of the trail and childish laughter echoes from the playground. Parents jogging behind strollers are as common as people walking their dogs or just out for a stroll, bike ride or run.

That's another good thing about walking in this park. If I had someone to walk with, I would go to Powell Butte. But that is more remote, some of the trails less traveled. John and I and the kids having lived there as the caretakers of Powell Butte Park for several years, I know what kind of elements have been present there, at least in the past. Although I knew those trails like the palm of my hand at one time, it doesn't feel quite as safe to be there alone. Nor does the Springwater Corridor trail with transient camps scattered on the edges among the blackberries. So Mt. Tabor remains my dog-walking park of choice when the weather is cooperative.

On Friday I head south to visit my sister, Colleen, in Northern California. On the way I'll stop in Medford and pick up my younger sister, Shirley. We'll head down to Potter Valley for a good sister visit. Coincidentally, there is a rodeo going on in Potter Valley that week, with lots of activities, so we shouldn't get bored. Not that these three sisters couldn't scare up some fun just about anywhere and under any circumstances!