Time to time I get home sick for a damp walk in the woods, a mason jar of swirling ruby colored ale, some hand stitched anything and my friends that have rose up from the roots deep in Portlandia or set some down at the river bank.
May you all be well and thriving where ever the Oregon back roads have taken you from the coast to the mountain, from the valleys to the gorge and down across the high desert, be alive.
