Episode 15: Three Monster Firs

Two Pseudotsuga menziesii, 200+ years old at Flora Farm

Followers of Travel's with Flora know that I'm recently inspired to find and photograph the multitude of "notable" trees in the Portland, Oregon area, especially those documented by historian/tree expert Phyllis Reynolds in her newest edition (2013) of "Trees of Greater Portland." Ms. R. was rather sparse, though, when it came to listing the Northwest champions of the ubiquitous Pseudotsuga menziesii, or "Oregon Douglas fir." I suppose that I have personally seen a thousand or more(or many, many more) at least one hundred years old, albeit casually without seeking, so to locate the author's three of mention seemed a worthy undertaking. With so many possibilities in contention, which individuals would soar above and beyond the norm? I think Flora wondered as well, as evidenced by: "Let's go!"

 Araucaria aracana on Belmont

1) Pseudotsuga ("false hemlock") menziesii at 1144 SE 53rd Ave. We drove east on Belmont when I realized we were nearing the Mt. Tabor neighborhood, the west-slope of an ancient, thankfully now-dormant volcano. In the 1800s it was "the site of several nurseries and orchards" (Ms. R.), so not surprising that a ponderous old fir would remain. En route I stopped to examine an old Araucaria aracana (on Belmont & SE 52nd Place) which was not listed in the guidebook, but while the "Monkey Puzzle" itself was significant, my photo in poor light was not.

Pseudotsuga menziesii on 53rd Ave

Heading south on 53rd, creeping rather, I spotted the tallest conifer, obviously, and it always brings a leap of joy when the primary task has been successful, since too often it is not. Yes: find the tree first, find a place to safely park second, then get out and meet the tree third. Always, if available, I photograph the Heritage Tree label provided by the City of Portland. Any denizen of the city will find plenty to gripe about, especially when it comes to our government's propensity to squander money, but I personally support the extravagance lavished on plaques that designate special trees. They deserve it.

Pseudotsuga menziesii on 53rd Ave

Pseudotsuga menziesii on 53rd Ave

The 53rd Ave "Notable" was massive of course, but it wasn't as presentable as I would have wished. The tree was not at fault, it was in a cramped situation and poor light rendered the canopy rather lifeless. The super-stout trunk was impressive though, from both sides of the sidewalk. How much older than 200 years is it? Another 100?

Douglas fir in the Champion's neighborhood 

To the west of the "champion" was another huge Douglas fir, a block or two away, plus a number of oak species that I couldn't possibly identify out of leaf (and barely in leaf).

Liriodendron tulipifera

Liriodendron tulipifera

Still on 53rd, a majestic live sculpture, a large deciduous species, it's identity was initially beyond my fathom. I could only imagine a kind-hearted family within the attractive residence, at least judging by the two swings dangling from long ropes on the old  ?  tree. Approaching, I sensed a species other than oak, the trunk was too light and barely fissured, and I was delighted to discover a Heritage label that revealed it to be the "Tulip tree," Liriodendron tulipifera. I have seen specimens of enormous size before, but this house/tree combination on 53rd was as harmonious as any neighborhood could hope for. Post-card America, I thought.

It is sometimes the case then that the tree-seeker discovers treasures beyond the intended search target, as I found the preceding "Monkey Puzzle" and the subsequent "Tulip tree" to be of more interest than the dull "Notable" Douglas.

THE Peg tree in Lake Oswego

Peg tree neighbor

2) A pseudotsuga menziesii that is very large and old is located just a few miles from my home near Lake Oswego, at 141 Leonard Street. It is known as the "Peg tree" as the signage indicates. A block away was another old specimen that poked well above the rooftops, and one could imagine an entire wooded hillside of like-age conifers that once presided over Lake Oswego's discharge into the Willamette River.

Instead, many trees were cleared for the sake of commerce, and the visitor can see the historic Oregon Iron Company furnace still intact. The location was perfect with iron deposits in the hills above the lake (on Iron Mountain Road for example) and the proximity to shipping on the Willamette to Portland and San Francisco. Today, Lake Oswego has moved far beyond its iron heritage, and it is probably today's wealthiest suburb of Portland.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides

Metasequoia glyptostroboides

Metasequoia glyptostroboides

3) The final Douglas fir on the Reynolds list would involve a hike on Wildwood Trail in the west hills of Forest Park. The "park" is second-growth "wilderness" laced with numerous trails where my late friend R. Hatch and I walked at least a couple hundred times. The Champion fir was allegedly located between Lower and Upper McCleay park, a route which I last hiked about 25 years previous. Today I closely examined two rows of the exotic Metasequoia glyptostroboides, one grove of each planted at the top and bottom of the McCleay trail.

Forest Park, Portland

Portland's Forest Park is enormous, covering 5,200 acres with 80 miles of foot-paths. It is supposedly the largest "wild area" within any major city in America, and I have explored its myriad of entrances over the years. On its boundaries are satellites such as the Hoyt Arboretum, the Oregon Zoo, the Audubon Society, the Pittock Mansion, the Portland Japanese Garden and more.

Balch Creek 

I parked on lower McCleay and followed a paved, handicap-accessible trail a few hundred yards up a small stream, named Balch Creek, reportedly running with cutthroat trout. It's amazing to have a fish-stream within walking distance of a major metropolitan city center. I wondered the route the fish would have to swim to reach the Willamette, especially since the mile-away mother drainage is now covered with streets, houses and high-rise buildings. I don't know, maybe the Ickthoides live local and never migrate, just propagate and all stay in place.

Stone House, McCleay Trail

How would I find the Champion tree, the one deemed the "largest in Portland" by Ms. R.? It was supposed to be "near" the "Stone House" (aka "Witch's Castle"), but that was about a mile up the trail, through a forest with other large firs, hemlocks and western red cedars. The Stone House was a curious structure that I first encountered with old Hatch, but neither of us could figure out its purpose. Maybe it was part of a water-works situation to capture and regulate flow to the residents below? The structure was roofless and abandoned, but its granite stones were elegantly weathered with lush emerald-green moss and ferns.

A group of women and children had paused along the trail, and the screechy moms were fussing with their kids' raincoats and hats. The youth weren't pleased to be out there either... away from their beloved screens and other futuristic distractions. I'll bet these children were home-schooled, else why would they be out on a Tuesday morning? Anyway I hurried past because they were all too loud and disorganized; I dreaded to imagine how these brats would grow up. Perhaps the most important message for a parent to impart to his child when in nature: just shut up! Maybe the adult can grunt when asked a question, or smile when the kid presents you with a leaf or cone, but otherwise shut up and everybody goes it alone, quietly. Remember, the words "listen" and "silent" contain the exact same letters.

Eventually I escaped the human distractions and I could enjoy the music of the stream --its susurrations-- and various bird calls. The wet leaves, moss and roots exude an aromatic symphony, and all free for the partaking. How wonderful... 

Champion Psedotsuga menziesii

About .8 mile on the trail I stopped to consider a huge log that had fallen across the path. It crashed to the Earth in a recent storm, narrowly missing two other quite large trees, and the park crews had already partially dissected it to free the path. I was attracted to the cut log, its odor was perfectly woodsy, and I could tell by its color that it had been cut less than a year ago. Then, across the path, I focused on the two behemoths that had escaped the calamity. They were still standing tall... and then I noticed a plaque on the larger of the two. Ha! My champion tree! Ms. R. claims it is the "largest" in Portland but its canopy was mostly missing due to crowding with its partner tree, and probably also reduced from the vicissitudes of frequent wind storms. I suppose the two of them alone would provide enough quality lumber to construct a modest-sized home.

Stone House, Forest Park

Woah! I rounded a curve and there before me was the horror of the Stone House desecrated by... graffiti, I guess you would call it. Not just a couple of paint tags that marred a wall, but the entire structure had been befouled. Who, why? I couldn't fathom it. I imagined suitable punishment for the perpetrators, no, torture actually. Heavy pain and humiliation at the least.

Stone House, Forest Park

I researched the history of the "witch's castle" and learned that it was originally designed to be an outhouse and picnic structure and a contractor in 1930 won the bid for $2,300.00. But why so much money, and so remote? Apparently the city of Portland paid for the outhouse, and it featured flushing toilets with stream water piped in from the creek above, and a drainage system installed to process the effluent. The stone shitter was abandoned after excessive damage incurred during the famous Columbus Day Storm of 1962, when prolonged winds up to 115mph blasted America's Northwest. I remember the storm well --my family spent the night crouching in our Forest Grove basement.

Exiting the park, happy to have found the champion tree but still dumbfounded by the senseless graffiti, I noticed a small white sign lying low in the brush, but I could see the humble message had an official Oregon 1859 seal. I learned that McCleay was not the original property owner, rather it was one Danford Balch, who with his wife Mary Jane emigrated from Ohio and Iowa in 1850. This was nine years before Oregon became Oregon, but before statehood they were awarded a 640 acre Donation Land Claim. The canyon, creek and surrounding area was know as the "Old Balch Place," and the pioneer, wife and nine children made a successful living there.

The government sign indicated that old Balch was convicted and hanged in 1859, just when things were going so well. He shot his son-in-law and the hanging was the first legal one in Portland.

Stumptown in 1857

Balch employed a worker from Vancouver, Washington for three years, Mortimer Stump, an appropriate name since Portland was originally known as Stumptown. Mort was infatuated with Balch's oldest daughter who was 15 years old, and she likewise, but Balch denied permission to marry. It is uncertain why the father refused the ernest couple, but they eloped to Vancouver and married anyway.

Balch confronting the newly weds

Either by coincidence or through a report Balch encountered the newly-weds with Senior Stump down by the Portland docks when they were loading furniture for their future house. A confrontation ensued, mostly between Balch and Mortimer Stump's father, and the latter supposedly shouted, "You're making a big deal about an ordinary little bitch." That was a mistake because Balch was carrying a loaded shotgun and he was reportedly quite drunk. He blasted his son-in-law, Mortimer in the face and upper chest which proved fatal.

Anna Balch Hamilton (nee Stump)1843-1898

Balch was obviously guilty, and thus decreed the jury, and he was put in jail. He soon escaped, however, and hid out in the canyon above his home. James Lappeus, the crooked Town Marshall, quickly tracked Balch down and allegedly hinted he would "leave the door open" to escape in payment of $1,000. I suppose that would be $25,000-$50,000 in today's money, but nevertheless Balch didn't have it. Lappeus's future in law-enforcement or politics was ruined because the bribe attempt went public. Worse for Balch, he was hanged a year later in the stockade south of the city jail on Alder and First Street. A crowd of 600 attended the spectacle, including the entire Stump family along with daughter Anna Balch Stump.

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Epilogue 

Pittock Mansion

Some will probably imagine the ghosts of Anna and Mortimer, perhaps frolicking in the stream on a summer's day. Sadly they produced no children, and in fact the entire Balch property was swindled away by a rapacious attorney named John Mitchell, and one of the benefactors, in part at least, was Henry Pittock, founder of The Oregonian newspaper who owned a mansion and land near the Balch Place.

Donald McCleay

Scotsman Donald McCleay (1834-1897) eventually acquired 108 acres of the property along Balch Creek and in 1897, before he died, he ceded the land to the city "to provide an outdoor space for patients from nearby hospitals." I can't report, though, if McCleay acquired the property honorably --he too was in real estate-- for the West was very wild then.

The champion fir predates all the human characters in the story, and it has prevailed through hundreds of wind storms, most notably the 1962 blow. It hosts moss, lichen and ferns, and thousands of birds, bugs and squirrels inhabit as well. If I ever caught a knucklehead tagging it with paint, I would probably join the list of hanged murderers from Balch's Gulch.

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The reader might enjoy The Ballad of Danford Balch video on Youtube by the J.T. Wise band.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ForVHbP7mSo

Episode 14: Return to Overlook

Ulmus americana

I first wrote about Overlook Park in northeast Portland eight years ago. In the Flora Wonder Blog of July 29, 2016 "The Hunt for Portland's Notable Trees," I described my discovery of an enormous elm tree, Ulmus amaricana, in the middle of the very large green lawn. Then I returned last fall, 2024 which was in Travels With Flora Episode 6: Overlook Park. The latter was a brief blogette, so to speak, but now I'll describe some more trees up the bluff.

Cedrus libani subsp. libani

Libocedrus decurrens

Ms Reynolds in her Trees of Greater Portland (2013) suggests walking tours of various neighborhoods, each which lists a dozen or more tree species. The individual trees on the map are not necessarily champions for size, or historically significant either, but they together comprise a nice urban canopy which includes our native oaks and maples as well as a large number of exotics.

Quercus garryana

The Overlook's deciduous trees were mostly bare last November, and the silhouette of an Oregon White oak, Quercus garryana, impressed me in the morning fog. The tree was perched behind a metal fence on a vacant lot, which I supposed was an underdeveloped portion of the city's property. The oak was not of champion size --I saw one even larger in the St. Johns neighborhood just a week ago with my daughter-- but the Overlook tree was as regal as any I've had the pleasure to meet. I supposed it to be about a century in age, a native sapling that was spared when its older relatives and guardians were harvested for commerce in the name of progress. Perhaps they were scalped to fuel the Willamette River steamboats that were common in the olden days, back when Portlanders believed that "harvesting" champions was perfectly normal, even necessary.

Overlook house

An attractive old house looked like a valuable piece of property, especially in such a prime location, but I think the residence had been commandeered for city purposes. A few people were laughing loud enough for me to hear from outside and I wondered what their purpose was on this work-week morning; oh --wait a minute-- I'm presuming that city employees are encumbered by purpose. I don't know, maybe I'm being harsh, maybe the revelers were simply volunteers who were warming up with the coffee and doughnuts before heading out to preform good works.

Umbellularia californica (Oregon myrtle) on Edison street 

Umbellularia californica

I decided not to enter, I didn't want to risk a scolding or at least the unwelcome treatment, but I reasoned that if this was now a public-parks building --or any kind of a government property-- then it belongs in part to me. God knows that I shell out thousands of tax dollars to keep the lights on. A lace-leaf Japanese maple was in the front yard, and also a medium-sized Stewartia pseudocamelia in need of pruning since it was unwisely planted up against the house. I tried to slip past the picture window to investigate a small, tidy backyard but I know I was noticed. Possibly I was being filmed on a security camera so I refrained from pissing behind the stout trunk of an old Umbellularia californica, an evergreen species introduced by David Douglas in 1829. The slow-growing tree is native to dry, sunny habitats, nevertheless it thrives in soggy Portland judging by its preponderance in old neighborhoods. The previous week I photographed a large specimen (aka "Oregon myrtle") on Edison Street in the Cathedral Park area. The genus name Umbellularia is easy to misspell, but comes from Latin umbra (from Greek ombros) meaning "shade" or "umbrella" and ulae meaning "little." The "little umbrellas" are in reference to the small flat-topped clusters(umbels) of flowers. 

I picked a leaf and crushed it, but I find the odor disagreeable, and I certainly wouldn't use it in cooking as some do. The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs is hilarious to mention, "The 'old school' of gardeners indulged in extravagant stories of prostrate dowagers overcome by the powerful aroma."

 

 

Castanea sativa

I beat it from the back, afraid of passing out next to a strange woman, and I continued down the street. Around the corner my map indicated a "Spanish chestnut," Castanea sativa, but in the midst of other large trees I didn't find the tree with certainty, so I subbed a photo of the chestnut from a different location. Hillier informs us it is native to "S Europe, N Africa and Asia Minor. Long cultivated and naturalized in the British Isles, where it is believed to have been introduced by the Romans."

Chamaecyparis pisifera

Chamaecyparis pisifera

Next to the Castanea was supposedly some older "Sawara cypress," Chamaecyparis pisifera, the evergreen conifer from Japan. I guess I was expecting a plumy cultivar, as one seldom encounters the straight species used as street trees, but there they were, much taller than I was expecting. The reddish-brown trunks were attractively shaggy, and the trees were limbed up so they would fit into a relatively small space. I don't care for the scrappy species, honestly, even though I used to propagate and grow some of the many cultivars by the thousands. The Overlook trees were full of dead branchlets and the live twigs were cluttered with numerous small brown cones; indeed the specific epithet pisifera literally means "pea bearing."

Juglans regia

Squeezed in next to the Sawaras was a sole specimen of Juglans regia, normally a broad-canopied tree, but narrow here for lack of adequate room. Hillier refers to the species as the "Common walnut," but one "that has been cultivated in England for centuries." They're widely grown in Oregon too, it is the walnut of commerce, but in Oregon we know it as "English walnut." Actually J. regia (meaning "kingly" due to the superior quality of the nuts) is native to Asia and The Balkans of southeast Europe, not from England originally. The name Juglans is derived from the latin name Jovis meaning "of Jupiter" and glans meaning an "acorn."

Jaglans regia

The sign next to the skinny walnut was soo Portland, but it was a good message sponsored by Friends of Trees that "This Tree Keeps Us Healthy" by creating oxygen and providing shade since _____. The date was left blank, it's probably up to the homeowner to guess the age and handwrite it in. I can't think of a worse tree for street or small-lot use unless one is attempting to attract slugs and rodents into your property. The nuts fall in autumn where the fleshy outer husks rot leaving an acrid stench over the area. Little children and mindless adults track the shell-mush into the house --I know we had a tree next to our back door-- and as a teenager it was my chore to keep the walkway and porch clean. Then, on a clear and crisp January Sunday many home owners would try to incinerate the leaf piles across town, as if we were sending smoke signals to each other.

Quercus coccinia

Quercus coccinia

On the corner of Concord and Overlook Blvd. was a massive "Scarlet oak," Quercus coccinea, that had been designated as an Oregon Heritage Tree with the official bronze plaque. The species' epithet is from the Latin word coccineus which means "scarlet," which is also used in the botanical naming of various flowers with reddish color such as Tanacetum coccineum ("painted daisy") and Geum coccineum in the Rosaceae (rose) family. I never acquired a Scarlet oak for the Flora Wonder Arboretum because I perceived that the species would grow too large, and in front of me was evidence I made a good decision. In defense of the tree, it could be up to 150 years old.

E. Henry Wemme

The Overlook area was developed by E. Henry Wemme (1861-1914) and many houses were built at the end of the 1800s. Wemme was a wealthy businessman, beginning his career in 1883, and I imagine a good story: the Scarlet oak --which is native to Missouri, not Oregon-- was known to him, maybe even planted by him. But probably not, businessmen generally don't want to get their hands dirty, from soil that is. Besides, Wemme had other hobbies, as in he owned the first automobile in Oregon, an 1899 Stanley Steamer.

Historic Columbia River Highway

Wemme* also introduced other cars to the Portland area and he was president of the Portland Automobile Association. Each of his new cars bore the Oregon license plate #1, and no doubt due to his love of driving, in 1910 he was a strong advocate for building the scenic Columbia River Highway.

Perhaps afflicted with dementia in his later years, Wemme wore rumpled clothes, unshined shoes and was usually unshaven. He always mouthed an unlit cigar, the juice of which ran down both sides of his mouth and chin. He never married. 

*This biography condensed from an article by William L. Lang. Professor of History, Portland State University.

Quercus kelloggii

Quercus kelloggii

On the same Scarlet oak property grows another species of oak, a Quercus kelloggiii [sic], the "California Black oak." It was a newer planting on the property, closer to Concord Street, as if the Scarlet predecessor was insufficient. This is a rare species for Portland too, as it comes from much of California to central Oregon, and prefers a more-dry montane environment. It was the dark bark that led Dr. Albert Kellogg, a pioneer botanist, to first name the species, and it's Q. kelloggii with two "iis," not three. I look forward to returning in spring to study the new foliage, as I recall driving through California hills east and north of San Francisco in early April where the oak's emerging leaves are tipped with a rose-pink color. Yellow-green pollen catkins dangle from the branches adding to the spring extravaganza, then by summer the foliage evolves to a lustrous deep green. The black oak's nuts were preferred by Native Americans across California because they stored well, and the mush ("ekibay") made a thick acorn pudding.

Platanus x hispanica

Where Castle and Shaver Streets converge on Overlook is a triangle of green, about one-fourth the size of an average city block. I like the geometry of the situation, and thankfully the grounds are homeless, with only three huge "London Plane trees," Platanus x hispanica, dominating what is probably city property. The plane trees were previously known as Platanus x acerfolia or Platanus x hybrida, and Hillier reports that it was "First recorded about 1663. It has long been considered a hybrid between P. occidentalis and P. orientalis, though it may be a form of the latter." I don't care for the tree at all due to coughing fits from the fuzzy undersides of the leaves, back when young Buchholz potted the damn things all day at the Dutchman's nursery.

Platanus x hispanica

The London planes display a patchwork of bark color, but the bulging, bulbous trunks cannot be considered attractive. Too bad that Wemmee or whoever chose this trio, but the resident squirrels don't seem to mind. I should be careful what I say anyway, nobody likes a tree snob and I occasionally come across as one. I remember when I chatted a few weeks ago with a north Portland woman about her champion Abies pinsapo, which is rare in PDX because they prefer the dryness of southern Spain, and the species (or subsp. marocana) even extends into north Africa. "Algeria," she supposed. "Morocco" I countered, "hence marocana." She remained impassive, but I could detect that she had been previously informed by the Heritage tree people, and she trusted them over this old, white-haired stranger.

Ginkgo biloba

A quintet of tree species was listed in Reynolds' book in a one-block section on the River-side of Overlook Blvd, starting north with #24 Ginkgo biloba --four of them; then two #25 "Eastern dogwood," Cornus florida; two #26 "Chinese Windmill palms, Tricocarpus [sic] fortunei; one #27 "Monkey Puzzle," Araucaria aracana; and finally a pair of "Japanese Snowbells," Styrax japonicus. I found the four ginkgoes, but they were skinny and all leaves were on the ground. 

Trachycarpus fortunei

Trachycarpus fortunei

It began to rain and I felt the urge to hurry my adventure due to the cold and my soaked map and tree list. The dogwoods were present, but the Monkey Puzzle was not. The two palms were found, but they were relatively small and unattractive in any case. The genus name should be spelled "Trachycarpus" not "Tricocarpus," while the specific epithet fortunei honors Scotsman Robert Fortune (1812-1880) who introduced the palm to Europe. His primary mission in China was to secretly procure tea plants, Camellia sinensis, and tea making procedures, and if caught he probably would have been executed. He was not. The genus name comes from the Greek words trachy for "rough" and carpus for "fruit," in reference to the fruits' appearance on this genus. I never grew one in the Flora Wonder Arboretum--it would have been hideously out of place in my collection. For some reason the windmills are planted at nearly every McDonald's fast-food joint in Portland, along with dwarf golden cypressus and swords of Yucca filamentosa.

I gave up on the two snowbells --my coat and hat were drenched and it wasn't very smart of me to continue underdressed, and my car was a half-dozen blocks away. I left it on Overlook, right? Hmm, Overlook Blvd or Overlook Terrace? It was dry when I started out and I was initially in no hurry; I shouldn't be so casual...at my age. I was in tennis shoes, for heaven sakes, which I was reminded of when I accidentally pressed the camera shutter while crossing a street. I hate to embarrass myself in the presence of Flora, what would she think about my abbreviated outing?

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Chamecyparis lawsoniana

I returned again to Overlook this past January 2025, because there were a few additional species that I gave up on the November before. It was foggy, cold and drizzly as well but I brought a heavier coat with a hood. In the gloom I photographed a single "Lawson cypress," Chamaecyparis lawsoniana, but it can be a broody species anyway. The cypress was not mentioned in the Reynolds book, but across the street was a notably-sized "Noble fir," Abies procera which was listed.

Abies procera (Noble fir)

A person exited the Noble house, bundled in a black coat and stocking hat, fussing to get the leash on a spinning dog who was ready to romp. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think it was a woman. I don't mind a person in the photo because it provides scale for the tree in question; I just didn't want to cause concern, because really, what woman (or guy) wants someone to be recording anything in the neighborhood? When she (?) was behind a tree and turned away I pressed the shutter and got what I wanted.

A block or two further I paused to consult my map and tree list, and it was awkward with two wet papers. From behind I was surprised when a pleasant voice called out "Good morning." I grunted a reply, but my pencil was temporarily across my mouth under my lips because I don't have three hands. I turned to find a happy face between hat and scarf, and thankfully she kept the energized dog on a short leash. "What are you studying?" she asked with genuine interest. "Oh, I'm just tree hunting," and I presented the map as proof. She pointed to the Noble house location on the paper, "Oh, yes, that's where I live. They say it's either a Grand fir or a Noble fir, but nobody knows for sure." "It's a Noble, see it says so on the tree list. Besides the Grand would be dark green and your Noble has bluish needles." I could have continued that the "leaves" are more stout and radially arranged on Noble compared to the relatively flat position of the Grand, but I didn't want to burden her with over-presentation. Keep it short and simple.

The dog kept tugging at her with better things to do than stand and chat, so she wished me well. If I could have encountered the woman at the end of her dog-walk, she might have invited this cold, old stranger in for tea and biscuits. Who knows, maybe we'll meet again this spring in her 'hood. I wondered if there was a way to send her the Overlook blog...

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Once again I was too quick to judge the activities at the Overlook Park "house." It is now a community center, as evidenced by the sign which I initially overlooked. So, a different kind of "overlook" than the same name of the park and neighborhood.

The Overlook House website indicates it was built in1928 by Herman and Elvia Raven who owned the Raven creamery. Their milk and butter were a staple in many Portland homes of the period. The Ravens were civic-minded and encouraged the use of their home by neighborhood groups, such as the Overlook Woman's Club. In 1951, after the death of her husband, Mrs. Raven donated her home to the city of Portland to provide a community center. Since 2003, Stewardship of the house has been provided by the volunteers of Friends of the Overlook House through a special agreement with the city. I'll see if I can enter the Raven home when I am next in the area.