Sunday, September 21, 2008


I came to Portland for the Garden Writers Association Symposium, not knowing what to expect.The whirr of garden communicators---- photographers, editors, television and radio personalities, and, of course, writers is intoxicating, not just the afternoon port in my friends’ hotel room. It’s hard to pin point what makes this experience so exciting: the lectures? the tours? the plants? the people? I’ve met more new people than I’ve met in a long time. I’d have to say the people.
But with all the swirling symposiacs drifting and reconnecting through out the day there was one stable and marvelous star this weekend. The city of Portland itself. Lovely in it’s preservationist stance, graceful in it’s ease of negotiation, charming in it’s quirkiness. And a gardeners paradise...

One of the beautiful terra cotta buildings making downtown Portland worth a visit.

Exquisite Deco store front.

The architecture of the old city echos the yankee roots of the founders.

I took a break from the symposium to run to the art museum.

I found myself looking out the windows to get a break from the contemporay art collection. Too much together, a potluck gone wrong. Dyspepsia.