May 5, 2026
Finding just the right tree to climb; Camas update; Mom's paternal grandparents; Popova's take on Harriet Hosmer; a brief meditation on the 'burbs
From The Woods
In my teens and early twenties, I loved climbing trees. I’d sit for hours high up in my tree, a hundred-foot tall Douglas-fir and ponder the world. I’ve been testing my skills recently, using my Pilates-found muscles, strength, and balance and have been on the search for just the right tree. My first choice was a cedar on a bluff overlooking our forested wetland. But after Tom and Dad spent much time and effort getting a ladder to reach to its lowest limbs, I realized the trunk was shaped like an “S” and also the graceful angle of cedar branches is not conducive to solid foot placement.
Julie found the next option—an open-grown Douglas-fir right at the end of the driveway. On Sunday Tom and Dad moved the ladder and our guests for the day, Taka and Ben helped secure it. I decided not to try my first ascent until I was alone—an audience was too much.
So today, I had my coffee and a couple eggs for energy and climbed the ladder. I got to the top, managed about two whorls of branches and chickened out. My heart was pounding—the lower branches are thick, but dead. Back down the ladder I went.
I wandered through the woods, feeling failure in my bones. But then. . .
I stopped in the almost-full-bloom camas, listened to a Bewick’s wren, then moved on to a stand of 20 year old Willamette Valley Ponderosa Pine. No ladder necessary, I climbed about six whorls up, pressed my cheek to the bark, and breathed.
People Older Than Than Trees
Mom’s paternal grandparents, John and Lula Beck, lived on a farm about a three hour drive away. They lived in a sod house and raised chickens, cattle, and sheep. But Mom remembers eating brown beans and only brown beans whenever they visited.
Once, Grandpa Beck, Clifford—the third of eight of John and Lula’s children—told me he learned from other shepherds how to spot a shallow hole in the ground for a place to sleep.
I wish I could time travel and be in those places with these people.
I Want to Know More
I’m continuing Maria Popova’s Figuring and have just finished a chapter about the sculptor, Harriet Hosmer.
Popova starts the chapter by describing a foot race between Hosmer and some male passengers on a Mississippi River steamboat. Hosmer wins the race up the bluff stunning the captain, who then named it Mount Hosmer, a name that it still has today. It’s a great way to introduce Hosmer who goes on to defy expectations with her art and the way she lived her life. Hosmer gained much fame during her liftime, but died unknown. Popova wonders at our tendency to want an arc of life that has success at the end. And intriquing question.
Check out this video of Popova reading an excerpt from her book "Figuring," accompanied by cellist Dave Eggar and guitarist Chris Bruce.
Stumptown
On Friday I went to Hillsboro with Yoko, Akane and Abby. We swam at the Shute Community Center, ate in the nearby park, then did crafts at the cross-the-street library. Such a great place for kids and their parents!
Whenever I am in the Portland suburbs, I’m reminded how not so long ago the area was forested and then farmed. Of course the streets of Portland have the same layers underneath, but in the hustle and bustle they feel farther away and longer ago.
Fine work, dear woman.
I loved climbing trees when I was young! The last one I climbed was the apple tree in my front yard when I was about 40. But the one I remember most was the former Christmas tree in the front yard of my childhood home. I could climb up through the thicket of dried inner branches and see without being seen! BTW, your laugh in the video was in the same rhythm as the Bewick wren’s call.