|Eastbound, Hawthorne Bridge|
For the sun to be so proud at this time of year seems a good omen. I could not resist the allure and, freed of all responsibility for the day, set my feet to wandering..
|Luxury apartment living (for squirrels) on Portland's enchanting waterfront|
Everything was out on Sunday. Old Man Hood was glowering over in the east, his blue-lined greatcoat brilliant in the sun. He was a marvel to behold. I couldn't find a vantage that did sufficient tribute to his glory and so declined to affront his dignity with a less-than-deferential photo. If you were about at all on Sunday, you undoubtedly saw him yourself.
|A sad memory on the Burnside Bridge|
The East Wind came blustering in, boisterous, but not unfriendly. She'll be back again soon and most probably, she won't be in such generous spirits.
The key in the tree
Down away south, looking across Hawthorne Bridge toward the new development. That's Marquam Bridge in the middle distance; you can see Ross Island Bridge beyond.
|Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!|
Ozymandiasby Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.