Red and green, for Christmas.

My mom takes a daily walk. Since I’ve been in town, I’ve been joining her. We pick up a bike trail in Maywood Park and do about 2 1/2 miles alongside the northeast Portland MAX tracks. It’s a good walk and I love the quite time with her.

Better Bargains. It’s one of Portland’s few remaining old school thrift stores. Stinky, a little disgusting and so often, such a deal!

When I planned my trip to Portland, I intentionally gave myself a full week in town before Christmas. I wanted plenty of time to relax before the holiday frenzy took over. I knew that I wanted to spend some of Scott’s post-Christmas week off with him. And I wanted to do my damnest to attend Tess’s Solstice Party.

Tess is a woman that my parents have gotten to know through the Portland Unitarian Church. She is a landscape architect, does peace action work with my dad and lives in the most glorious home I’ve ever been in. And once a year, she throws a giant party to honor that darkest day, as well as the slow return light that will soon occur.

It’s a potluck and people bring their most seasonal, delicious salads, casseroles* and baked goods to share. There’s always cheese board with a selection of three oversized wedges. You’ll find wine, juice and sparkling water in the breakfast room off the kitchen. Guests take turns washing dishes, as the forks and glasses run out.

A fire crackles in a squat black stove. There are artful stacks of books on tables and in corners. In place of a tree, Tess arranges birch boughs in a giant vase and runs strands of white lights in and around the pale limbs.

At the mid-point of the party, Tess asks for attention. She rolls up the rugs, hands out candles to those who didn’t bring their own and turns off all the lights. Candles are lit, one by one, as people share words on why they love this cold, dark season. A musician performs (this year, it was my dad). Then we extinguish our candles and return to the merrymaking.

I aspire to someday host a party like this one.

*We brought this potato and squash creation. In spite of the fact that the cheap, grocery store Gruyere I bought didn’t melt like it was supposed to, the dish was still scrapped clean.

In Portland for the holidays. I’m trying to teach my mother the proper way to roast vegetables. This includes a single layer of vegetable, high heat and the ability to resist the desire to stir the food too regularly.

Our tiny, fake Christmas tree. It’s a far cry from the fragrant, towering trees of my youth, but I love it nonetheless.

My very last visit of the season to the post office. Grateful to be done with all the sending of the gifts.

The yearly viewing of “This Is The Week That Is.” I love this little old theater. I imagine this what entertainment was universally like in my great-grandmother’s day.

Steaming apple cider on a chilly day. It’s my new obsession.

After spending most of the day working in my pajamas (this happens more often than I like to admit), I showered and walked over to Reading Terminal Market. I needed ingredients and more vitally, I needed to get out of the apartment, spend a little time at ground level and be around people.

I took my camera with me, because I’ve been working on taking more interesting pictures. Spending so much time at home means that my photos start to all look the same and I want to shake off that trend.

And it was good to be out. No major revelations or life-altering experiences (beyond an annoying exchange with a guy at Godshall’s). Just lots of Christmas lights and an appreciation for Philadelphia.