The goal: to explore each and every one of Albany, Oregon's public parks.

The crew: one intrepid mom, three adventuresome daughters, and one muddy dog.

Follow along as we visit, rate, and review every single park in our hometown.

Park Trip I, March 24, 2016: Bowman Park

(Because we are either very systematic or very boring or both, we chose to begin our park project at the beginning, with a visit to the Albany park that comes first in the alphabetical list of Albany parks: Bowman Park.)

Jen's review: Bowman Park in early spring is a damp, muddy wilderness, covered in daisy-dappled grass, bordered by creeks and rivers, and within spitting distance of Albany's weirdest and most glorious unofficial tourist attraction: The Sprayfoam House.
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I am beginning to feel as though modern life is one big photo shoot.

Case in point: yesterday was my birthday, and my family did an amazing job of making me feel loved. I was practically weeping in the shower, I was so touched by the heartfelt gifts and handmade cards my girls gave me and the breakfast they made from scratch. My husband gave me a spa gift certificate and a delicious dinner at my favorite restaurant and then took us all to a family movie night. It was a great, great day.
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Today as I was happily cutting a slice of aged Parmesan to accompany a pear for my afternoon snack, I was reflecting about how much I love cheese.

I really do love it a lot-- creamy chevre and smoky gouda, tangy blue cheese and good old yellow Tillamook medium cheddar--I could sing their praises all day long. In fact, when I was interviewing for my current position, I was given an assignment to develop an article around some aspect of Oregon's recreation, culinary, or beverage scenes.
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Summer is great. Summer is good. Summer, this year, was long, and hot, and dry.

I am tired of the heat and the sweat.

Today, people, today the heavens finally opened up and let loose with what I’ve been waiting for: long, deep, refreshing rain, here to wash away the dust and make things new.

I think it’s ironic that my two favorite days of the year are both  times of transition, because in most areas of my life I am a curmudgeon and I have to be forced to embrace change.

"Every single thing is changing." 

That's what Beth keeps telling me, and she is almost always right--just ask her.

In this case, I really can't argue with the wisdom almost a decade of life has given my oldest daughter. It has been a year of beginnings and reinventions, indeed. So in keeping with blogging tradition, let's go over them in a list form. Everybody loves a good list post. Even if it is on a little ol' blog that's been almost abandoned.

Change #1: Evie started kindergarten.
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To my dear not-so-little girl,

You were the prettiest baby anyone had ever seen. I'm not just saying that because I'm your mom. People used to ask if I'd signed you up with a modeling agency, because you were that bright-eyed and smiley and just plain gorgeous.

I always told them no, sneering a little inside. I knew even then that you were more than just a pretty face. 

You talked early. You walked late. You were obsessed with books and magazines from the time you could grab for them.
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I have been in a lot of groups.

Schools and churches. Newsrooms and classrooms.Volunteer brigades of various sorts. All of them inspire me and shape me in some way or another. But this weekend, I connected with another group--a tribe of wildly dissimilar people who all come together for just one shared interest: running.
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In honor of spring. In honor of apple boughs.

In honor of the child I once was, losing myself long hours in flurries of snow-white cherry blossoms and pages of books.

In honor of my daughters. In trembling hope that they know what it is to feel time's mercy: golden and lordly and happy as the grass is green.

In honor of poetry. In honor of words. Of what they do in your soul once you've trapped them inside and let them steep for a decade or two.
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I was late to the Pinterest party, so perhaps it's right and proper that it's taken me this long to achieve my  very own Pinterest fail.

It started out so innocently. My little girl was home sick, for the second or third day in a row. Feeling well enough to be up and off the couch, but still too sporadically feverish for school. She was begging me for "something fun" to do, so I suggested doing a craft.
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We don't give much thought to dinosaurs, around here.

My girls have never shown a great deal of interest in them--not the science-y kids' books about different  dinosaur species, not the "Dinosaur Train" TV show--none of it. Other than an occasional read-through of some book or other featuring dinosaurs, they simply haven't played a major role in our household.

Or so I thought.

It turns out my girls are, apparently, all terrified of dinosaur attacks.
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I am Jen.
I am Jen.
Mother. Writer. What else? Read the blog and you'll find out.

You can view my complete profile if you wish.
I write about a multitude of topics.
I write about a multitude of topics.
I like a multitude of blogs.
I like a multitude of blogs.
Gee, I've been blogging for a long time.
Gee, I've been blogging for a long time.
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