Greener green

                   Slippery when _.

_ my whistle. 

                  Sopping _.

_ lands.

                _ behind the ears.

All _ . 

 Mt. Lemmon (Tucson, AZ)

     I am saturated. The green is greener here in Portland. The air is plump with moisture, not dry and jagged against the cheek, like in Southern Arizona.

     We are home for the time being. What a gift to wander around the continent with my pet. We have been hosted so well for the last six months in my parents' winter home in Green Valley. And now, we are cozy in a craftsman house in Northeast Portland, thanks to the generosity of a good friend. In the coming months I will write, work for money, and explore this beloved Pacific Northwest city.

Swan Island (Portland, OR)

     When I was here last June, I experienced Portland's shiny and bright side. As of this writing, I will have been here for 52 hours. I have spent that time in a dark and mossy cave.  The sky is always clouded over. The back porch is slick with moss and the ground is mushy. I have to wear layers now. Being this soggy will take some getting used to, but honestly, I am enjoying it! 

     I wonder, what kind of cave dweller am I? Am I a lumpy pile? Am I a dirt eater? Am I the kind that scales walls in search of a hole to sunny China?

     And so, my life has a new backdrop. But I am still the same girl who climbs mountains in monsoon to reach a radio tower, sweats from her eyeballs, and writes with courage, by wonder, and for love.