At Bossman's House
Nov. 29th, 2006 06:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidYesterday we were invited to Bossman's house for lunch.
Parts of the city were icy in the morning, so plans changed, and we headed north earlier than originally planned. The streets were fairly dry by the time we left, and it was clear, so I could get great views of some of the northern Portland bridges (including St. John's, which is what I think of as a "NY-style' bridge). We went north on Route 30, the hills on our left, the river and some flooded areas interspersed with fields on our right. Left, and up into the hills, the windy road with no obvious destination now snow-covered. There was snow on everything, the fir trees, the skeletons of the deciduous trees, the green ferns, the dark green shrubs, the grasses and mosses. The road went up, and up, switchbacks fast and furious. We passed logged areas, and areas with newer fir trees, just bigger than the ones that will be sold this month (escaping the axe for another couple of years?).
There were a couple of houses at the top; Bossman's is the highest. A long driveway through the front yard, past the sculpture of a Biblical man in a small grove, and around to the back to park.
It was glorious. A couple of inches of snow covered everything, and there were trees on most sides. We were almost at the top of a hill, views* all around. Or there would be, if the clouds ever moved out of the way. As it was, I could imagine we were wholly alone, the only sounds the wind sighing through the firs and the crunch of snow under our shoes as we walked to the house. It was gorgeous.
Outside, the house was ungainly, dark wood forming a shape more interesting than a pentagonal prism, but without particular distinction. Inside, it was wonderful, open, welcoming, lived in, interesting. The rooms flowed into one another, and there was enough space that the many people around weren't crowded. Lots of windows showed off the view, and the rest of the wallspace had either bookshelves, or artifacts, or art, or family photos, a whole gallery of them (I got to see pictures of friends when they were little :-). There were comfortable seats to curl up in, facing the windows so reading breaks would include a beautiful view. The kitchen was large, and the dining part of it included an openable skylight with hooks just below to affix schach (!). Plus there was a small etrog tree in the corner, just coming into bloom. I hope that it will bring forth beautiful fruit.
There was time to talk, conversations ranging from family stories and dynamics, to philosophy books and their naming, to car seats and sciatic nerves, with many topics in between. Lunch was rather later than I would've expected, but that meant I had the chance to snack on the craisins in the huge wooden bowl in the diningroom, to start really working on a kippah, to grade some quizzes, to start a book, to realize that the huge side porch had basketball hoops at either end, and to see the clouds lift down in the valley enough to look down at the quilt of it all. Gorgeous. And lunch was lovely.
I'm so glad I could see where Bossman and the family live.
* Portland's all about the views. Yards are negotiable, views less so. Hence all the cantilevered houses off the sides of hills, and signs for rentals starting with "View and Clean" (which just sounds incredibly wrong to me, even though I know what they intend).
Parts of the city were icy in the morning, so plans changed, and we headed north earlier than originally planned. The streets were fairly dry by the time we left, and it was clear, so I could get great views of some of the northern Portland bridges (including St. John's, which is what I think of as a "NY-style' bridge). We went north on Route 30, the hills on our left, the river and some flooded areas interspersed with fields on our right. Left, and up into the hills, the windy road with no obvious destination now snow-covered. There was snow on everything, the fir trees, the skeletons of the deciduous trees, the green ferns, the dark green shrubs, the grasses and mosses. The road went up, and up, switchbacks fast and furious. We passed logged areas, and areas with newer fir trees, just bigger than the ones that will be sold this month (escaping the axe for another couple of years?).
There were a couple of houses at the top; Bossman's is the highest. A long driveway through the front yard, past the sculpture of a Biblical man in a small grove, and around to the back to park.
It was glorious. A couple of inches of snow covered everything, and there were trees on most sides. We were almost at the top of a hill, views* all around. Or there would be, if the clouds ever moved out of the way. As it was, I could imagine we were wholly alone, the only sounds the wind sighing through the firs and the crunch of snow under our shoes as we walked to the house. It was gorgeous.
Outside, the house was ungainly, dark wood forming a shape more interesting than a pentagonal prism, but without particular distinction. Inside, it was wonderful, open, welcoming, lived in, interesting. The rooms flowed into one another, and there was enough space that the many people around weren't crowded. Lots of windows showed off the view, and the rest of the wallspace had either bookshelves, or artifacts, or art, or family photos, a whole gallery of them (I got to see pictures of friends when they were little :-). There were comfortable seats to curl up in, facing the windows so reading breaks would include a beautiful view. The kitchen was large, and the dining part of it included an openable skylight with hooks just below to affix schach (!). Plus there was a small etrog tree in the corner, just coming into bloom. I hope that it will bring forth beautiful fruit.
There was time to talk, conversations ranging from family stories and dynamics, to philosophy books and their naming, to car seats and sciatic nerves, with many topics in between. Lunch was rather later than I would've expected, but that meant I had the chance to snack on the craisins in the huge wooden bowl in the diningroom, to start really working on a kippah, to grade some quizzes, to start a book, to realize that the huge side porch had basketball hoops at either end, and to see the clouds lift down in the valley enough to look down at the quilt of it all. Gorgeous. And lunch was lovely.
I'm so glad I could see where Bossman and the family live.
* Portland's all about the views. Yards are negotiable, views less so. Hence all the cantilevered houses off the sides of hills, and signs for rentals starting with "View and Clean" (which just sounds incredibly wrong to me, even though I know what they intend).