Tag: art

Scottsdale

Tiles decorated in a desert motif on a mailbox say '7695'

In Portland my favorite things to photograph while walking Ellie were the neighborhood art and the old garages. It’s going to be more challenging in Scottsdale as while there is a lot of art around, most of it is up against people’s houses and out of my reach. There is some art accessible from the street but I might have to settle for mailbox decorations more often than not. Of course the other limitation is Ellie wants shorter walks these days so the streets she chooses determines what I see. Which is fine, it’s walking with her I treasure most.

I like this garden we pass on our walks, these aren’t the native cacti I see on the trails and not the kind I’d plant in my own garden, but I like the variety of shapes and textures from the different plants. I’m assuming the statue is St. Francis of Assisi because of his love for the natural world. I’m hoping when we’re ready to buy we find a house that already has native desert landscaping but if not it’s something I’d like to add. I do appreciate the little strip of grass in our backyard because Ellie loves rolling around in it so.

A garden full of cacti in Scottsdale, Arizona

Goodbye House, I Love You

Our cat Boo gives our cat Trixie the side-eye

I’ve saved my last goodbye for the house that has been our home for sixteen years. Built in 1925, old homes have their charms and their challenges. This one has charmed me and it’s hard to say goodbye but it is time. The movers are packing our belongings and loading it onto the truck. Tomorrow we leave for Arizona.

It’s funny what you fall in love with, sometimes it’s the little things. I’ll always remember the wooden grate over the heating vent that attracted the cats like a watering hole in a dry savannah. Trixie loves it, as have many of our cats, including Boo who was already occupying it and wondering about his sister’s intentions as he gave her the side-eye on her approach.

The mover’s were surprised we aren’t taking the stained glass windows with us, which hang just inside of the real windows. They were here when we bought the house, home-made I would guess, but do a lovely job of providing privacy while letting in light.

These old houses have their challenges too. I won’t miss the tiny one car garage. You get used to contractors coming out to fix what seems like a simple problem and hearing them say “I’ve never seen this before”. We had an electrician out recently who based on my description of the problem thought it would be an easy fix, as it had been a long day and he was ready for home. Two hours later …

When I think of home I think of this house. I’ve never lived anywhere nearly as long as we’ve lived here. It will still be a home, just not ours. I hope it protects and delights its new owners as well it has us. Goodbye, I love you.

A stained-glass window that sits inside of the real window in an old house in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon

Goodbye Irvington, I Love You

The slightly damaged eye of the dragon statue at Irvington School in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon

Sixteen years ago it was time to move.

My wife had changed jobs and we needed to find a home with a reasonable commute both to her job in Portland and to mine in Beaverton to the west. We found a wonderful realtor who knew the old neighborhoods and patiently showed us our options as we tried to get a grasp on life in the city. When our home in Salem sold, there was one house that stood in a neighborhood called Irvington, a name which meant nothing to me then yet so much to me now.

I had never lived in a city before so I was nervous about our new life but I need not have been. At first I loved being able to walk to Portland’s light rail system, MAX, as there was a stop near work and I no longer had to deal with the stress of driving every day. But I also fell in love with the old trees, the unique old houses, the old garages, the variety of people, the variety of landscaping, the ability to walk to shops and restaurants.

I fell in love so deeply it became hard to imagine living in the suburbs again.

Then nine years ago we got a dog. The neighborhood I thought I knew opened up to me in new ways. There was the dog park at Irving Park, and Irving Park in general, as back then the pup was up for wandering around the park as a whole. What a beautiful little gem just a few blocks from our house. But it was the walks after we left Irving Park, where I let Ellie wander wherever she wanted through the neighborhood, where I began walking down streets I had never walked down before and fell in love with the art with which people had decorated their homes and yards. There was an artist a block south of here that created a little dragon out of tile and concrete in front of his house, that I had seen on my way to the train, but it was only after Ellie started taking me farther afield that I saw the much larger dragon he had created at Irvington School.

I started taking a camera with me on all our long morning walks and began documenting some of my favorite pieces of art near the sidewalk, the urban wildlife, the urban flora, the paintings, the murals, the poetry, the fleeting chalk drawings, the Jedi, the bird van, the tree art, the stepping stones, the totems, the wishing tree, the desire for peace. And of course the dragons. This is not a community of artists, though there are artists here, it’s a community of families who feel free to express themselves.

Like the damaged eye of the dragon at the school, time takes its toll on all things, neighborhoods included. It was getting pricey when we bought in but it’s much more expensive now. A while back it was designated a historic neighborhood to try to keep the old homes from being demolished and replaced with large modern homes, but that can also keep out the higher density housing that provides more affordable options. Irvington has been wonderful to us, but it has excluded people in its past, and I want it to be as good a home to as many as possible as it has been to us, for it to embrace the strength of diversity.

Thank you Irvington for changing my misconceptions about urban neighborhoods, for giving me a safe place not just to live but to explore. Goodbye, I love you.

Would That I Could Take You With Me, Irvington

Dragonfly art on a stepping stone in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon

I don’t know what neighborhood we’ll end up in when we move to Arizona, either the first year when we’re renting or longer term when we buy, but I know i’ll miss our Portland neighborhood of Irvington. But in a sense I can take it with me, thanks to the pictures from the little Sony A6500 I picked up a year ago that goes with me on all of my morning walks with the pup.

A close-up view of dragonfly art on a stepping stone in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon