Closing out the year, 2011

River runnin' high

Willamette River was running high yesterday on account of all the rain we've been getting.  Not just here in Portland, but all up and down the valley.  Raining like the dickens for the last few weeks.

That's western Oregon in December, though.  Shouldn't expect anything different.

Leftover Salmon and Cracker sharing the stage

Last night, Jeanine and I went to see the hippie jam band, Leftover Salmon at the Roseland Theater.  I'd seen them before back in the late 90s.  I believe the current incarnation of the band includes only two members from that time:  Drew Emmett, the singer/mando-fiddle-guitar player, and Vince Herman, the guitar-player/front man.  Banjo, keyboards, bass, and drums rounded out the ensemble.  Alas, I don't remember the names of the other members.

As you might guess from the instruments involved, Leftover Salmon has its roots in blue-grass.  But, being a jam band, they take it in many different directions over the course of the show.  The way it works is this:  the rhythm section hold things down, while the other members take turns soloing between verses. 

Roseland full up

Roseland boasts a capacity of over 1400, and I imagine last night's crowd approached that number.  It was pretty tight, especially down on the main floor.  People were having a good time.  And there were more than a few inebriates in the crowd.  But, as is nearly always the case at hippie concerts, the vibe was happy and peaceful.  Just another reason why I like hanging with hippies.

Here's a little taste of the show.

Jeanine and I stayed until the set break, then headed out just after 1AM.  Can you believe it?  We left before the show was over!  I'm getting old.  But not too old to manage a rally now and then.

View from Tabor

This morning, even though I hadn't slept but 2 or 3 hours, I pushed on up to the top of Tabor, determined to have one last look before the year was out.  Old Man Hood was nowhere to be seen, withdrawn behind the fog and gloom.  I suspect he conjured it up himself, rather than be bothered by the sight of supplicants on dead Tabor contemplating his imperious glory.

Follow the path

The last hours of the Year of Our Lord, 2011, slip away as I write.  It goes down as a good year in my chronicle.  No major disasters.  A few laughs.  A lot of love.

Happy New Year!