Graveyard Tree

With some time to pass in Oregon City, I decided to venture out to one of the local cemeteries. I was prepared to encounter doom and gloom, sadness and despair. Much to my surprise, the atmosphere was serene and beautiful. I found this flowering white tree that seemed to capture how I felt to be here at this place of peace.

Conversation

I went back to Oregon City yesterday, with several hours to browse the Willamette River. This time I went down the "politically correct" path, complete with handrails, steps, and cement lookout point. B-O-R-I-N-G! The only things I got good views of were all of the fishermen in boats blocking my view. So I jumped onto the rocky shore and started walking (well, climbing from rock to rock) to a point where debris from the December high water was stacked up over my head. Twigs, limbs, branches, trash, all waiting for me to discover their treasures! I took a picture of one particular limb, jutting out into the river. To me it resembled a giant hand holding a very large stick.

When I got home and viewed the picture, I was entranced by the reflection of this huge log onto the surface of the river. I saw what looked like a girl, hair tied back, having a conversation with someone behind her (wearing a hoodie?). What a surprise! What else is to be found in this photo? Who knows!

Other Side of Oregon City

I had an hour to kill in "old town" Oregon City today, so I went down by the river to get some pictures of the historic old bridge. I apparently went to the wrong side of the walkway - (to the South there is a path/stairway down under the road and onto the pristine rocky edge of the river) - and ended up on a well-worn muddy trail that never did get to the river bank down below. There were lots of fishermen in boats on the river, and $$$$$ houses on the opposite bank, with fenced off lots and beautiful docks. Where I ended up, however, was a summer homeless camp, not used at this time of the year, but waiting for its warm weather tenants to find it again. There were beer cans and graffiti, mud and old tarps, magazines and wet sleeping bags.

I never did get pictures of that historic old bridge. After all, it's been photographed a billion times already. I got to see something more ugly, more gritty, more REAL. I don't regret finding this place. I may go back someday. Until then, in the words of the graffiti artist ... "Bring peace to OC".