This tree was ensconced in heavy fog at our motel parking lot in suburban Seattle. We journey today and tomorrow, return to Rockpit, Alaska.
This tree was a backdrop for some people being photographed at the Oregon Zoo today.
That’s me on the left. Beside me are Rita – a woman who was my 3rd grade and 6th grade teacher, among other things. Beside her is Jeannine, Rita’s daughter, one of my closest childhood friends, who I haven’t seen since high school graduation, maybe. And Jeannine’s child, River, who is recovering from Covid right now. So it was a kind of little reunion at the Oregon Zoo, which was sunny, not too crowded, but quite chilly, down in its little canyon west of downtown Portland.
This tree is down by the gate to the road that goes up the along the Tualatin river.
Juli and I and the dog took a long walk along the valley today. Then a bunch of Canadians showed up, including Wayne (the annual visitor to Rockpit, Alaska – a close friend of Arthur’s), who are Keith’s relatives, so we had a kind of pre-Thanksgiving. We’ll do the main Thanksgiving on Saturday, which is Juli and Keith’s tradition.
This tree was in a neighborhood in Portland, southwest of downtown.
Arthur spent about 5 hours receiving a “cognitive evaluation” with some psychological specialists at the VA. I had a pretty boring time just waiting around for the whole thing to finish, so I walked around outside.
This tree is a small lego tree, in front of a lego police station my grandson Parker built. He showed me many things, including a donut-thief who had a magnetic donut, apparently.
This tree is a persimmon tree in my aunt Janet’s yard in Pleasant Hill, Oregon. I visited them today.
I always have lots of wonderfully philosophical conversations with Janet and Bob.
This tree was out next to a fake lake, which was lacking in water. It’s called Hagg Lake, or Scoggins Valley Reservoir. The Reservoir was quite low. We drove there, but it’s really not that far – a few miles. We went there and walked around, Juli and Keith and Arthur and I, and their dog.
This tree is in front of Arthur’s infamous yurt, his bedroom-away-from-home since times immemorial (about 20 years).
Before the yurt, he had an ancient school bus converted to an RV, parked in a similar location in Juli and Keith’s yard. So Arthur calls the yurt “the bus.” Keith worries about Arthur being in the yurt, but I think he’s better off there than in some location (e.g. the guest room here) which is less familiar to him.
Art and I did another appointment at the VA hospital and clinics this morning. This time, he got an echocardiogram. The tech was very chatty and explained to me what he was doing and seeing as he did it, which made it pretty interesting for me. Art’s arhythmias were quite noticeable.
This tree was along the road just up above Juli and Keith’s. Apparently, it is Autumn.
I took Art to the VA hospital and clinics in downtown Portland, today. We saw doctor Kim, who is a very personable doctor and who is one of the few doctors I’ve interacted with, with Arthur, who seems to “get” Art’s mental style. It was a bit intense, as Dr Kim used the word “dementia” with Arthur directly for the first time. I really haven’t ever dared to use that word – Art has always been of the clear and firm opinion that that is something that happens to other people, not to him. So I guess I was relieved to let Dr Kim bring it up, in a medical setting. It could be between him and a doctor, and I wasn’t implicated except as a witness.
Next step is the comprehensive cognitive function evaluation, scheduled for next week.
This tree was down by the upper Tualatin River in the hills about an hour west of Portland, just a short walk (maybe 1km) down the slope from Juli and Keith’s house, where I’m staying. We didn’t see any salmon jumping, which we often do this time of year, here.
I decided to enjoy an uneventful day, and just hung out. Sorta officially “on vacation.”
This tree is another guest tree from my past – I traveled all day and was offline. I took this picture in December, 2014, while walking to work one day in Ilsan (Goyang), South Korea. I wanted to show the banner on the footbridge, advertising a NASA exhibition at the local convention center, but the tree bore witness.
This tree is a guest tree from my past. I took this picture in Fukushima, Japan, in March 2010. I was killing time waiting for a new work visa for Korea. The cherry blossoms were out along the river.
This tree was forced to oversee the wanton destruction, by wind, of yet another tarp-based storage structure on lot 73 (tarp-based storage structures have suffered terrible fates on lot 73, in past years – this most recent iteration was something that neighbor Brandt had put up, ancillary to his construction project on my shed thingy).
This tree saw a new floor-deck appear for my shed thingy, under construction. I’ve employed the carpentry-competent neighbor to build the structure, and he made progress.
This tree was along the road to town – much like other trees.
I spend way too much time at work at the store trying to comprehend hard-to-understand quasi-invoices from vendors.
This tree bore witness to the loitering sea. I like the twisted, mossy branches.
I worked on putting the dirt back in the hole at the well. It is very tiring. This is a fairly long-term project, which would be done in 10 minutes with an excavator but I was stubborn when Richard was here with his excavator in August, about an aspect of the project at that time, so now I have to fill the hole with my shovel.
Quite unrelated, I like this quote:
"The unconscious is a machine for operating an animal." - Cormac McCarthy
This tree is dailier than others, along the road to town.
Art had a difficult night last night. He has a thing that happens sometimes, where he wakes up disoriented – much more than usual. He needs to get up to go to the toilet but he can’t find his way from the bed to the bathroom. He crashes into things. Of course it doesn’t help that he is stubborn, in persisting in the belief that he can navigate in the dark. It’s impossible to get him to adopt a habit of turning on a light to find the bathroom – he believes with his heart and soul that his excellent spatial memory can get him from on place to another in a familiar environment, in the dark. Leaving a light on is useless – he’ll grumpily turn it off the moment I go to bed. He insists on sleeping in absolute dark – to the point of closing the blinds against the moonlight.
Anyway, his excellent spatial memory is long gone. He wakes up disoriented, can’t find the door out of the bedroom, stumbles around. I awoke to a loud crash at around 11:30 PM, and went down stairs. I found him lying on the floor. There was urine all over the floor near the door. He seemed to have head-butted the wall where a small heater unit is installed, damaging the wall and the unit such that repairs will be recovered. I don’t even know how he did that.
It took us more than an hour to get him back into the bed. In his disoriented state, he couldn’t figure out how to stand up. He’s week, and with shaky balance, but when his mental faculties are more normal, he’s able to get himself up off the ground or floor. But last night it was a struggle. I kept trying to explain to him what he needed to do: “Roll sideways, get a knee under you, lever yourself up by grabbing the edge of the bed.” These instructions just made him sullen, as if I was giving impossible advice. And I’m not strong enough to lift him. So we had to wait out the lack of ability – in the end we got him close enough to the bed that I was able to kind of lever him up onto the bed, against much protestations of suffering and agony (he had bad arthritis in the shoulders).
I got the floor cleaned up. I disabled the damaged heater so it won’t be a hazard, pending repair, and later I gifted him a portable one that I have been using to heat the RV, to control mold.
In the morning, he asked me what had happened to the heater – he apparently didn’t remember anything that happened. It’s unrealistic to expect him to be grateful for the help I give him, when he can’t remember needing my help.
It was a hard night.
This tree saw the beginnings of dawn, at around 7:15 this morning.
This tree is my small cherry tree that nearly died in the deerpocalypse last year. This year, safe in its little cage, it seems to have done fine, but it’s strange how the leaves seem uninterested in changing color in the Fall.
This tree was across the street from where I stood in front of the gift shop. A late October morning in Craig.
Some kids came by the store, trick-or-treating for Halloween. We were prepared, having candy on hand.
This tree was in the background while I performed a standard daily cold-weather chore: filling the little kerosene tank for the basement heater from the big red kerosene tank in Arthur’s mushroom-and-moss garden (front yard).
This tree has probably been featured before. I’m feeling unimaginative. And the picture came out a bit blurry, too.
This tree is a guest tree from my past. I took this picture looking out the window of the janitor’s closet at my place of work in Goyang City, South Korea in November, 2012.
This tree was next to a patch of frost so heavy it looked like fallen snow.
This afternoon I finally got around to building a little insulated enclosure “cabinet” for the new water filters configuration for the re-engineered house water filters set-up I built last summer. This enclosure is important because down in the boathouse (basement) it can get quite cold in winter – it’s not an insulated part of the house. So with the filter assembly positioned where it is, I wanted to enclose them in a little cabinet with insulation in it where we could place a small heater to make sure things don’t freeze up on extremely cold days.
This tree was observed by some waterfowl (a flock of them in the water center-right).