From the files...

Here are some pictures of the Europe trip. Sorry no prose or funny lines. Portland has been way to hot to even think. 107 degrees is so not right. We bought a small air conditioner for the bedroom so for the past week we have not left the bedroom.

We stopped in Denver to see the she-bear. The she-bear was nice enough to let us sleep in her bedroom and while there we saw a great sunset.

Denver sunset - June 2009

Budapest was up next and it was a top 10 of the trip to pull up to where Katie would be singing and see this...

Bartok National Concert Hall in Budapest - July 2009

This sign was in a garden in Vienna. For those of you who don't speak German the loose translation is "those who feed the pigeons feed the rats". I knew I didn't like pigeons for a reason.

Vienna - July 2009

When I saw this "fire truck" I realized that Americans really do have to make things bigger just because they can.

Litomysl - July 2009

After the Litomysl concert we spent some time walking around Brno, Czech Republic. I must admit that the model the sculpture used was very handsome.

Great B' art in Brno - July 2009

In Prague we found another sculpture in a church. We probably shouldn't be doing this in a church. I hope the lightning can't reach us here in Portland.

K' art in Prague - July 2009

There were more EXPENSIVE cars than I thought possible in Europe. Here is a beautiful Bentley. Prague - July 2009

The last concert in Prague I committed the ultimate sin and took some pictures of Katie. She is 2nd row from the top and 2nd from the left.

After the last concert in Prague we went on a river cruise. It was the first time I was not hot on the whole trip so I enjoyed being out on top and taking pictures of the scenery.

Vltava River in Prague - July 2009

I definately need to get back to Vienna and see some more of Europe. Anybody else want to go along in a couple of years?

Three nights in Hungary

When we married, my lover and I honeymooned in a tiny Seattle apartment. It was spring, the rhododendrons were stepping out in their full skirts, the tyrant School was scheduling Husby's days, and we were broke. So those first sweet weeks, we held tight to our pennies and to one another, and it made for a simple, wonderful start. The big honeymoon trip was to be a Someday event.

A few weeks ago, Someday came in the form of a chorus tour, spent performing and sightseeing through eastern Europe. We've spent the past few years saving and squirreling for the experience. As we perused guide books and sussed out the best travel pillows, a persistent inside joke emerged...soon each of us would take an international lover. And so we did. The Husby is now my European sweetheart. {As in, I smooched him up properly whilst in Europe.} And I am his.

It all started in Budapest.

The city was peppered with bright green telephone booths. Which in turn cradled honest-to-goodness pink payphones. The only thing that could improve that Barbie-esque pop of pigment is if you got a unicorn ride along with your call.

Payphone, Budapest ~ June 2009

The architectural detailing was a visual feast. Every corner yielded a new course, fresh textures, tantalizing color. Each turn presented a perfectly plated vista. Take a look:

Apartment scrollwork, Budapest ~ June 2009

Facade of the Aquincum Museum, Budapest ~ June 2009

Outer gate at St. Stephen's basilica, Budapest ~ June 2009

Matthias Church, Old Buda ~ June 2009

St. Stephen's basilica, Budapest ~ June 2009

St. Stephen's basilica, Budapest ~ June 2009

Garden gnomes done up classy, Budapest ~ June 2009

Hungarian State Opera House, Budapest ~ June 2009

The Danube, Parliament & Old Pest, viewed from Matthias Church ~ Budapest, June 2009

Szechenyi Bridge/Chain Bridge, from the Citadel ~ June 2009

One of my favorite things about strolling the city streets was happening upon the occasional open door, leading to a courtyard.

One might spy a slice of garden.

Or just-scrubbed tiles.

Or a line of clean laundry.

I was quite taken by the doorways we passed. They were portals to a new culture, and the hardware is a tool of everyday life to the Hungarians who pass through them. In the eyes of a romance-sodden Yankee, though, they took on a touch of the exotic, an infusion of the lovely. I loved all the possibilities of European doors. Hence, a study in doorknobs.

All door images from Budapest ~ June, 2009

Home Depot's hardware department just doesn't pass muster, eh?

The traffic signs were a source of charm and amusement. We spent one morning swimming through the palpable humidity, looking for a photo of the Chubby Children, as we came to call sign #2.

Pedestrian sign, Budapest ~ June 2009

Pedestrian sign, Budapest ~ June, 2009

I never did figure out what this one meant. Steamroller traffic only? Make way for tractors?

Traffic sign, Budapest ~ June 2009

Crosswalk signal, Budapest ~ June 2009

We got a particular chuckle out of this parking directive. Look closely at the little white sign.

Parking signage, Budapest ~ June 2009

Now look closely at the parking jobs. The white stripe is indeed painted about 4 feet in onto the sidewalk, and the curb edge follows the line of the trees.

Hungarian parking, Budapest ~ June 2009

There is something inherently elegant about windowboxes with geraniums. It was somehow familiar to see this in the continent that has influenced my Danish grandmother, who brings her geraniums inside and tends them throughout the winter.

Windowboxes, Budapest ~ June 2009

The people-watching made excellent sport for a tired pair of honeymooners. Here are a couple of shots I liked.

Budapest ~ June 2009

Budapest ~ June 2009

Budapest was a marvelous city for our introduction to the loveliness Europe. It was gritty, historic, smelly, graceful, and unbearably hot. Communism has left its stamp in somber artwork and living history. I can't quite find words to quantify the discernible elements of Soviet influence. We hacked by with a guidebook and a few phrases. I was elated when the owner of this stall caught my drift as I pointed at the peaches and butchered the words for "two, please," in Hungarian. {She finally cut off my stuttering and jabbed up two fingers: "TWO?" in English. Yeesh.}

Budapest ~ June, 2009

Budapest ~ June, 2009

As we walked down the twisty, narrow cobble streets, the scents of raw sewage and roasted gyro meat alternately assailed us. Dust floated through the air, and we took photo after photo of new scenes. We were drenched in sweat, and as the juice from that perfect peach rolled down my hand, my friend Rene put it succinctly. "That's the way you should experience a country: with all your senses."

Berry tasty

It would seem we've arrived in our new stomping grounds at an opportune time.

Lookie here:

It is that time of year. The local jewels are thickly clustered, almost dripping from the vines.

Velvet-skinned.

Taut with juice.

Warm in the sun.

Heady, heavy fragrance.

Muted plop into my bucket.

I am a two-fisted picker.

My new neighbor has shared the precious location of her favorite berry patch. Not that I had to swear a blood oath of secrecy or sign over the Sallie-Cat or anything...

But I am going back for more tomorrow.

Beach Bums

When I was little, summer time was marked by sensory experiences.

Cherry popsicles sliding cold into my waiting belly.

The little explosions past my lips as my sister and I held watermelon-seed-spitting competitions.

Line-hung towels and sheets were just a little scratchy. They smelled like warmth, somehow.

"Slaps" {flip-flops to the rest of you} made a staccato chorus as we chased down the tinhorn symphony of the ice cream truck. The order is still the same today,

"An ice cream sandwich, please."

And the coconut-laced smell of sunscreen meant we had made the annual family pilgrimage to one of our favorite places: a sun-drenched, Caribbean-blue lake on the Idaho-Utah border.

Last week, I took a lengthy, sweaty, leg-cramp-ridden drive from Portland to my hometown. There was worthwhile motivation waiting at the other end of the drive: a reunion with the Sallie-Cat. And an afternoon to steal away to a little slice of heaven with my mammy and Sister #3.

Do you remember how magic infuses every turn during the bluebird days of spring skiing? It's because another kind of bluebird day...a beachy bluebird day...is just around the corner.

B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

A trip to this little paradise has its own package of sensory experiences. The color of the water is unlike any other land-locked lake I've paddled. Apparently, the limestone-lined bottom is what makes it so very blue. A million different shades of blue, shifting with the clouds, the wind, and the sun's movements. Blue that sinks a brilliant turquoise seam right into your soul and then slowly feathers outward.

B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

I got to spend some rare uninterrupted playtime with the Littlest Sis. Remember how much fun it was to go to the pool at age 11? Take that fun and multiply it exponentially. It's tangible; she is popping with glee.

Chickadee #3, age 11, at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

Of course, no family trip is complete without the Fuzzy Sibling. Meet Greta. {Also known as Yeti, Greti-Spaghetti, D-D/Dang Dog, Snoot, and a million other monikers.}

Greta, age 10, at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

Mammy-Ann even got in on the fun. Doesn't she have awesome cheekbones? I love seeing my mom love the beach life.

Mom at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

This water is swimmably cool against the skin, not one of those icebox mountain lakes. You can actually dip yourself in this puddle. Ahem, Husby: I herewith submit my request to skinny-dip in this lake at night.

Chickadees #1 & #3 {28 & 11}, at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Mom

No beach trip is complete without a little aqua-aggression.

Let's not forget the sensation of sand down your swimsuit. Somehow, I still have the nerve to be surprised when I drop my suit at the end of the day and find 5 lbs. of grit being smuggled in the seat. Who knew I required a pumice rub on my posterior parts?

And I'm sure it is documented somewhere that beach etiquette requires, nay demands that we make a work of art, an offering to the sand deities:

Chickadee #3's sand castle ~ July 2009, by Katie

How about the feel of plastic water toys squeaking against your wet hide? We ALL got into the water to cool off. {Take it easy. The pup had previously done her business in a safe locale. Poor girl is getting her torn ACL repaired this week; we were trying to keep weight off the bum leg.}

Greta, age 10 at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

Apparently, over the past few years it's become en vogue to serenade the other beachgoers with your own personal tractor soundtrack. You know, because using a truck to get your boat down to the waterfront is just not done any longer.

Tractors at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie

And let's not forget one of the most celestial, sublime sensory experiences of the whole summer: a fresh raspberry shake from the corner shack. Blended well. Sipped, slurped, and gleefully consumed on the beach.

As we made the sunset pilgrimage home ward, we spied these dignified in the marshes along the roadway. When I was little, my sassy mother taught us a poem about them:

Pelicans near North Beach ~ July 2009, by Mom

The Pelican

A limerick by Dixon Lanier Merritt

A wonderful bird is the pelican,

His bill will hold more than his belican.

He can take in his beak

Food enough for a week,

But I’m damned if I see how the helican.

I know, I know. You just WISH your mom shared such gems with you.

To my three chickadees: thanks for a wonderful visit. I love you lots. Let's all retire permanently to the lake, ohhh, next summer, perhaps?

There are many more sensory experiences to be had.

Chickadee #3, age 11, at B.L. North Beach ~ July 2009, by Katie