No one is happier about Portland’s record December snowfall finally melting than our Irvington neighborhood Gnome. There was more than enough white stuff to fill his tree-trunk abode, so I’m assuming people kept his doorway sufficiently cleared so he could maintain his perpetual southeasterly gaze from our block.
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The Gnome’s lonely vigil, which I commented on last week, isn’t so lonely anymore.
A little buddy has joined him in watching the world pass by in Northeast Portland’s Irvington neighborhood.
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It’s oddly comforting to walk along my street and see the Gnome. He’s always there, sheltered inside the hollowed-out base of a tree.
He’s been there longer than the five years I’ve been walking past. His expression never changes, even when vandals spray-painted him black and broke his arm, or passersby deposited flowers at his feet. But is he happy with what he sees, despite the ever-cheerful expression? Does he see what transpires “out there?”
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