9/29/2016
Oregon: Still a Rush
John Friel
My yearly sojourn to Portland, Oregon, for the Farwest Show is over and I miss the place. When I’m rich and famous, one of my homes will be in the Pacific Northwest.
Farwest is a slimmed-down version of its former self, but still a big show, and the only appropriate West Coast showcase for my employer’s wares. It’s also a strong education destination and there’s the rub—a gentle one.
For decades, Farwest’s classes and trade show didn’t compete. Seminars filled the morning; at noon, the show floor opened. Now, show time is 10:00 a.m. and classes run all day. The traditional non-compete clause is null and void.
Upside: More classes, more speakers, more reasons to attend. But selfishly, I preferred the old schedule. Transplanted to Pacific time, we easterners wake up early. If I chose to skip class, I had all morning to explore Portland’s attractions, famous and infamous: funky, eclectic Saturday Market, Voodoo Donuts’ edible oxymorons, and bibliophile heaven, Powell’s City of Books.
Alternatively, if I DO want to attend a class, I’m in trouble. This year’s excellent slate included the likes of Dr. Charlie Hall, Judy Sharpton, Lloyd Traven, Brian Minter, Kelly Norris, Dan Hinkley and Dr. Jim Ault, the breeder who sparked the echinacea revolution.
Kudos to OAN, but solo exhibitors can’t take advantage. Working a booth alone, it’s hard to escape for lunch or bathroom breaks, let alone an hour-long lecture.
As partial compensation, two small stages on the show floor—one each for retailers and growers—hosted short presentations on pollinators, native plants, garden center design and such. What a boon! Abandoning my space for just 20 minutes, leaving a “Back at 3!” sign, felt less criminal than bailing for an hour. Highlight: Minter defined what customers crave from retailers: “Discovery, solutions and inspiration.” I think he nailed it.
When the show ended, I went visiting.
Little Prince of Oregon Nursery, in a lovely rural area near Aurora, is clean, well-run and bigger than expected. They’ve carved an enviable niche with small pots of unusual stuff—especially succulents.
As usual, I toured Terra Nova Nurseries, breeders extraordinaire of heuchera, sedum, echinacea, coreopsis and much more. My employer and Terra Nova have strong business ties, so ’nuff said.
Microplant Nursery, a tissue culture lab near Mount Angel, is a revelation, a window on the wide world of tiny propagules. The math boggles the mind.
Blooming Junction, retail arm of Blooming Nursery, Cornelius, proved fertile ground for photographs. I expected well-grown pots of perennials and grasses, clearly labeled, and the place—part farm, part farm store, part school, part IGC—did not disappoint.
On an off-duty day, I visited the End of the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center, an enlightening, sobering trove of facts, artifacts and stories concerning the vast migrations that settled the West. I left a little ashamed.
I grumbled at the turbulence on my seven-hour flights. I seethed when the second leg was delayed at O’Hare. Well, boo-hoo. Poor me.
In the 1800s people lost their fortunes, minds and lives trying to get to Oregon. Those who made it did so after an average of six months of constant toil and sacrifice. We’re so spoiled.
Oddly, though the place is built in the form of three enormous Conestoga wagons, I found no mention of Conestoga, Pennsylvania, where the “prairie schooner” that made the journey west possible was built. An odd oversight. Next time out, I’ll try to enlighten them.
GP
John Friel is marketing manager for Emerald Coast Growers and a freelance writer.