Thunder, stoves and bunny crossings

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Thunder

I awoke at 5 a.m. Thursday to a flash of lightning and some muted rumbles of thunder. No rain, just noise, a subdued growling in the distance.

Preoccupied by the odd weather during my morning writing exercise, I wrote this poem.

Thunder

A last little rumble as I’m trying to write.
Thunderstorms are rare in Portland.
Rain in the summer, too, not common.
Hark! Another drumroll. 
The sky holds its breath, leaves still.

Yellow light, lavender sky,
The stuff of storms. 
Hold your breath, great world.
Something is coming, we won’t know what till it arrives.
My words fall like raindrops, making divots in dry dust.
The sky growls again.

Catch up

Here’s a photo left over from last week’s posting about trees.

There’s something achingly sad about seeing a once grand tree in pieces, ready to be chopped into firewood or ground in a chipper.

One piece of this tree, recently felled at Southeast 26th and Taylor, is shaped like a heart. There, on the right. Look closer, and you might find faces or figures in this woodpile. Fran Gardner photo

Sharp reader

The week before that, I wrote about things that come in fours. How could I have missed an obvious group: the Beatles—John, Paul, George and Ringo. Thank you, Diane, for pointing that out.

Stoves

The year 1982, when I was 32, was momentous in my life for several reasons. The Oregonian newspaper, where I worked in the newsroom, merged with its longtime rival, The Oregon Journal. I got a new job out of it: assistant graphics editor.

I went through a divorce in this year, the 10th year of my marriage. My former husband and I sold our home in Northeast Portland, and I went looking for a smaller house.

I was charmed by a house on Northeast Fremont Street, even though the street is a minor arterial. More of a drawback, the house, built in 1907, was still on a septic system. And it was not in the city of Portland. This last point I didn’t understand until I’d signed the papers. Oh, no! Now I wasn’t a Portlander. I was an East County woman! I didn’t get to write in Bud Clark for mayor that year. He won anyway.¹

Overwhelmed with all the changes in my life, closing down our house in Laurelhurst, selling furniture (through classified ads in The Oregonian, how quaint), and caring for my daughters, then 1 and 4, I had no time to deal with appliances. So, as part of the deal, I asked the sellers to provide a stove.

A beautiful antique

I moved into the house to find an old stove from the ’30s. It stood on four legs. The oven was small because the fabric-covered wiring for the burners took up so much of the lower part of the unit.

The closest photo I could find is this gas model, not in good condition. But it at least shows the form of my beautiful white antique stove.

I’m sure the owners simply bought the cheapest old appliance they could find. But I loved that stove! It was the best one I ever owned. I ‘ve been a baker all my life, and that small oven baked like a dream. Heated evenly, no hot spots. Everything came out lovely.

Cooking with gas

When I built a house in Southwest Portland a few years later, I installed a standard electric cooktop with an oven beneath it. Not until 15 years later did I add a gas line and replace the electric cooktop with a gas model. It was the first gas stove I’d had since college. I’d always appreciated that a gas flame is immediate. No waiting for a burner to heat.

Yet I was disappointed to find that I didn’t like cooking with gas. I had become used to the slower way electric elements heat and wasn’t ready to go back.

Multiple sclerosis took care of the gas stove issue for me. Unable to keep up the house, I sold it and downsized into an apartment. With an electric stove.

Not long after I moved, I met Robert. We got married and I moved into his house, which was built in the 1920s. Here I encountered another old stove, this one from the ’40s. It, too, had a good oven, with no discernible hot spots.

This World’s Fair model was about 42 inches wide and had a small oven and storage. The drawer under the burners was mostly wiring. Fran Gardner photo

All my cooking wore it out quickly and we had to replace it in about 2008. We’re now on our third replacement. The electronics on the other two models didn’t last. Kitchen appliances just don’t seem that reliable anymore.

Our house was built as a duplex and has two kitchens. Below is the setup in the kitchen I use. When we replaced the much larger white stove with a 30-inch standard model, it made room for the wire shelving, which provides plenty of storage and sturdy handholds. The toaster oven rests above the colorful drawers of a child’s desk.

I like having everything I need close at hand. Photo by Robert Jaffe

The cute little stove in the upstairs kitchen is just 24 inches wide. Using the smaller oven takes less energy, and it preheats more rapidly.

Yes, that’s Bucky Badger on the fridge. Robert once taught philosophy at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. Photo by Robert Jaffe

It’s not much of a stretch to say I hate my present stove. It takes a long time to preheat the oven. The burners under the glass top have effectively two setting, high and not high. I can’t rustle up the patience to heat something over medium heat. It just takes forever on this appliance.

Four-burner blues

Like almost all stoves, mine have always had four burners. Ambitious cooks may have a cooktop with six. But I can count on one finger the times I’ve actually used all four burners at once. When’s the last time you did?

We rarely use the oven in the big range. When possible, I cook in the toaster oven, reserving the bigger unit for roasting a whole chicken or a sheet pan of vegetables.

Toaster ovens rule! I use mine for anything that will fit. I’ve roasted game hens and baked keto cranberry walnut bread in it. I have a great recipe for an easy casserole based on chilies rellenos that also fits in a 5x7 dish in the toaster oven. You can find this recipe in a posting called Pulling Back from July 2025.

I own a microwave oven, but I only use it for heating beverages. I like cooking with real heat.

Living without burners

When I was in assisted living for several years, our kitchenettes had no cooktops, just microwaves. I used my toaster oven for everything, like cooking a breakfast dish with kale and eggs.

Vegetables for breakfast

I like vegetables for breakfast. This is one morning’s selection. Fran Gardner photo

Anything goes with this healthy breakfast dish. Start with greens (usually kale), leftover meat or tofu, onions (green, red or white), maybe potatoes, peppers (hot or mild), tomatoes. Garlic if you dare, ginger if you care.

Set the oven temperature to 350. Chop the greens and mix with other vegetables, aromatics and herbs in a 6- to 8-inch cast-iron pan. Toss with some olive oil. Add a splash of tamari or soy sauce if you wish. Roast for about 12 minutes, then crack an egg or two over the top. Maybe sprinkle on some grated or shredded cheese—cheddar, parmesan, gruyere. Back it goes to bake until the egg is set the way you prefer, just a few minutes.

I like this dish with dashes of Frank’s Red Hot or Tabasco.

At Rose Schnitzer Manor, the chef, inspired by my creation, added a similar item to the breakfast menu. She called it the “power breakfast.” And yes, it is powerful.

Form and color

I was drawn by the intense colors of this food cart behind Harder Day Coffee/Steeplejack Brewing on Southeast Hawthorne. The vent on the top of the adjacent food cart looks like a coffee cup, with the cloud as steam.

Let your eye rest on the touches of darker blue, the reflection of the sky and the umbrella in the window, the pink towel, the white framing, and the oblique diagonal lines. The green in the reflection is the wall of the Hawthorne Fred Meyer, on the other side of 38th Avenue. Fran Gardner photo

A few days later, in Milwaukie, I found a forest of similar vents at a food cart pod. They remind me of the a carnival teacup ride.

I could have cropped out the bushes on the foreground, but they are both intriguing and restful on the eye. I took this photo from the Milwaukie MAX station. Fran Gardner photo

Rabbit crossing

On one particular block at Southeast 28th and Harrison, new signs have recently appeared. Two of them acknowledge a new addition to the neighborhood: bunny rabbits. I’m not sure what the musicians sign is for.

Two “bunny crossing” signs, one for each direction. The musicians sign echoes the cover from the Beatles’ Abbey Road album. Fran Gardner photos

Check out

Grateful

Am I grateful for the same things
Over again?
Or do I make my things new 
Each day?
Each raindrop falls awry,
Each touch of fog an envelope 
For hiding, for embracing
For being good,
For being loved,
For being.

Miracle dog

On the 72/82nd Avenue TriMet bus, I meet a woman with a little black wiener dog and a bright yellow wagon. She says her name is Angie and that the dog’s name is Miracle. She says that Miracle reminds her to stay away from fentanyl. She’s been clean for nine months now—that’s how long Miracle has been in her life.

Barking dog

I can be grumpy about dogs in coffee shops, as in they shouldn’t be there. The reasons have to do with health department rules and common courtesy.

So last week, when I heard a dog bark in a part of a large establishment that was outside my range of vision, I complained about this to the staff. They whispered back that it wasn’t a dog, it was a customer who has Tourette’s.

I think I will shut up about dogs in restaurants now.

Goodbye and all that

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Love,
Fran

—30—

1. The city of Portland soon annexed the properties north of Fremont, and installed a sewer system as well. I was glad to pay the hookup fee.