Remember the sun

Here is the sunniest spot in the Newport Hills commercial district. Right now a guy hauls several home-made picnic tables there every so often not to sit at, but to sell. Often cars are parked here for sale as well. Imagine a farmer's market on Saturdays, or a place in the sun to sit and sip coffee. And picnic tables. And cars for sale.

Behind is a take-away pizza place. No place to sit, but awesome pizza! Imagine a place where the office tenants who work adjacent to this space (to the right in the photo) had a place to be outside in the sun. With a slice of pizza.



Start with a few benches, preferably around a latte stand. Sell a few newspapers. Better yet, provide wifi.

Then people will wander over to that flower stall there, you pick up a slice of pizza next door, you listen to the Newport High Band over here, and pretty soon you have a farmer's market on the weekends...

who knows where you could wind up when you start to put people back in to the equation?

Lesson #2: Put people in the sunniest spot you can find

A Parking Lot Makeover

The official period of mourning is now at an end. Time to get busy.

Let's get started on a parking lot makeover.





A bit of Cannon Beach in Newport Hills. This is what planners and designers call a "path of desire", a path for walkers that is normally worn through ivy or grass, indicating a need to get from one place to another. Here they've paved it, and framed your destination. It's adjacent to the sidewalk and bus stop. It exists. It's already here. It works.







This doesn't work so well.
At the main corner of the center of Newport Hills,
a sign is prominently posted which reads:

"Drive-Up Window Opening as of Feb 1, 2005"

This could be a welcoming corner for pedestrians, too. Instead it hosts a four year old plastic banner
advertising Bank of America's drive-up amenity.



This is a much more visible ad for the bank's drive-up window: multiple lanes with arrows.
Note the walkers crossing the street in what seems like an awful lot of concrete for so little traffic.



Lesson #1
Try to make the walkers as comfortable as the drivers.

Seven Stages of Grieving (With apologies to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross) Photos by Sean Bentley

1. Shock

2. Immobilization

3. Denial

4. Anger

5. Bargaining

6. Denial/Guilt

7. Acceptance

On Cougar Mountain

Sometimes you just have to get away from the hustle and bustle of a commercial neighborhood district in transition.

Stella and I nursed our grief over the final closure of the Red Apple this past weekend with a hike to Far Country Falls, seen here at full throttle--the effect of last week's flooding throughout western Washington.

A wash-out on the trail.

The water was over the bridge at Steam Hoist Trail earlier in the week, according to a fellow hiker.

A surging Coal Creek.

More Puffball Sightings

An extremely bold puffball shrubbery spotted shortly before the Red Apple shuttered its doors forever.

Eyeing its next victim, puffballis shrubbia has zeroed in on Red
Apple's weakened neighbor. It is obviously in mourning and oblivious to the threat arriving from the parking lot.

Note the Coca Cola can at base of shrubbery, presumably for camouflage purposes.

75 % off

Breaking News: After a day of 50% off tonight everything is 75% off.

Are we talking light fixtures, signs, freezer cases, the rooster in the butcher's window? I've sent my spies out to investigate.

Puffball Shrubberies

In my opinion, it may all be down to the slow nocturnal creep of the puffball shrubberies. They puff up in a good rain and spread devastation wherever they go.

In this photo, the shrubberies have abandoned their former habitat just across the street. Clearly their job was done here. What we've only recently discovered is that streets are no barrier. In fact, it is obvious they thrive on pavement.