Tag Archives: Reflections

They told me a year had passed

We invite you to enjoy a bit of poetry about our time in Barcelona and Spain this Friday afternoon.  Have a great weekend and stay fresh!

They told me a year had passed

By David Mint


I sat on the terrace in Les Planes,

Staring blankly at the wooded hills

Beyond the train station

Pondering all that had occurred


I’d arrived in the dead of winter,

Without expectations,

Without plans,

completely unprepared


I’d resisted the change,


Trapped in my ways,

Until the day that I was broken


At the point of death,

I sat waiting at Sant Pau,

And soiled myself,

Shortly after I’d been called

L'hospital de Sant Pau

As I lay in the dungeon,

Of the modernist gem,

Life dripped back into my veins,

Yet only to a point


I arose,

A changed man,

A blank page,



I was free to travel,



And to love


Free to explore,

 Llançà, Huesca

Contra Corriente, El Lokal, L’Estudi,

Les Heures, Ligonde


Yet it is the people,

The love,

The Spirit which we share,

That remains


I met my true love,

Now this dream will never end,

We march forward and do not look back

Two becoming one,


I sat on the terrace in Les Planes,

Staring blankly at the wooded hills

They told me a year had passed,

And I did not believe them

Reflections on the Stump on the Park Blocks

The other day, as we strolled down the Park Blocks between NW Flanders and Glisan, we came upon a stump.  Trees in this part of the Northwest are not uncommon.  Neither are stumps, for that matter.  Yet this was no ordinary stump; it was a large, low cut stump which bore a striking resemblance to Gondwanaland.

What was also striking about this stump was its location.  The Northwest Park Blocks, stretching from Burnside to NW Hoyt street along 8th Ave, are home to a great many oversized trees.  The trees stand, lining the blocks like a royal guard creating a corridor for kings and queens to pass.  The kings and queens of Portland’s NW Park Blocks represent all ages and walks of life.

The Stump: Evoking memories of Gondwanaland

These grand trees have observed and endured many a changes in their surroundings as Portland the frontier town has grown into the pleasant city which we now enjoy.  The trees, circa 2011, enjoy the delight of children racing through the playground, the musings of men and women as they commune on the many benches lining the blocks, and the gentle, respectful pace of both car and bicycle as they quietly traverse the paved portion of the blocks.

The trees serve as a constant reminder to the contemplative passerby that our noble lives are but a whisper on the winds of time.  Much of what one does will be forgotten, and in an age where information is abundant but wisdom is in short supply, the trees offer a humble reminder that in order to stand tall, one needs roots which run deep and branches which extend to embrace.

This day, amongst the grandeur and wisdom which the trees continuously display, the stump served as a reminder that even the grandest of trees can be laid low on a temporal whim.  There is nothing to gain by lamenting its passing.  Rather, as with all loss, we must take the opportunity to pause and reflect on our daily actions.  Perhaps the stump’s resemblance of Gondwanaland is not an accident, for it offers a glimpse of the eternal time in which everything around us yearns to live.