It’s just another rainy day. Not even fish rain, but you might think so with all the umbrellas clouding up the sky. Tourists on their maiden voyage. They flare up like neon in the Oregon rain. We love them. We really do. And they were everywhere this morning with their umbrellas sailing high along the footpaths and hiking trails at Multnomah Falls.
But it didn’t start out that way. I awoke to the drumming pelt of rain at an unreasonable hour and felt such a ridiculously strong pull to hike up the Wahkeena trail that it seemed to me as if gravity was playing an ornery little trick. I set out with a solitary vision of me and the trees and the pungent smell of the mossy spray. At first it seemed as if I’d have my perfect morning.
I tucked my hat into the crook of a tree to retrieve on my way back down, knowing it would be safe and waiting for me. How lovely it was with no people in sight and only the soft Oregon rain for company.
My boots got wet and before long, my pants were soaked through. It was glorious. Exhilarating. And suddenly, … crowded. Umbrellas sprouting everywhere like gardenias at moonrise. All these visitors who don’t understand the old cliché, When In Rome.
Lose the umbrella people. We don’t use them – we don’t need them.
After spending the past several weeks working with buyers who plan to relocate here, it occured to me that they, too, need to lose their umbrellas. Things are different here in Oregon. While sales have slowed a bit, overall, purchasing real estate here is still an excellent investment. That’s a fact worth staking your bank balance upon. And yet, my buyers have all expressed one reservation after another about the unlikely prospect of getting wet in this market. Each has found the perfect home and yet instead of throwing off their galoshes, they’ve gone inside to wait out the storm.

Well here’s a friendly little weather report for those looking to relocate to my beautiful Pdx: It’s just a little drizzle.
Real estate is not a short-term investment. Now IS the perfect time to buy. Don’t let a little precipitation cause you to throw up an umbrella that will only obscure your long-range view. After all, real estate is a big picture investment. When you find your perfect home – buy it. You won’t regret it.
It’s always possible to go back and reconsider the path not taken. But what you might find is a lost opportunity. So when you come to Oregon, leave your umbrella behind.... come play in the rain.
If you’re considering relocating to our beautiful Pdx, I’ll be happy to provide you with all of your real estate and relocation needs to support you and your family with your transition into Portland.
Jennifer Bukaty
RE/MAX equity group, inc.
Portland, Oregon 97202
503.495.4824
It's no big secret that I’m sweet on babies. It’s pretty much all I dream about lately… to have my own little "Baby J". Girl or boy, it doesn’t really matter. And no, I’m not making any big announcements. Just yet. But if I were, I couldn’t be in a better place to give birth.

If you’re thinking of starting a family, P-town is the ideal place for making your baby dreams come true. A place where pregnancy is an enchanting experience, viewed as a natural and beautiful life event. Where birthing and early childhood resources are abundant, and like-minded Moms and Dads-to-be are plentiful. Whether you elect to have your baby at home, in a birthing center, or in a hospital birthing unit, you’ll find support and expertise that surpasses all other cities.
Now that my adorable little boy isn’t so little anymore, I find myself longing for another tiny sweet pea. And if there's one thing I do know for sure, it's that once pregnant, we have an unbreakable appointment to meet a stranger. So while I don’t know exactly when that appointment will be … I do know where. Because as it happens, I’m already in the perfect place.
Portland IS the place. If you’re considering relocating to our beautiful Pdx, I’ll be happy to provide you with all of your real estate and relocation needs to support you and your family with your transition into Portland.
* Credit to FitPregnancy Magazine for the above statistics on pregnancy and childbirth in Portland Oregon.
My little guy once upon a time.....
I was organizing some old family photographs the other day when I discovered something curious. While drifting back in time, I became conscious of a repeating image lurking behind the smiling faces of my tiny Mother and tinier aunts and uncles. There, in nearly every photograph, stood my architectural heritage. Silent and strong, the humble bungalow graced the backdrop of every generation of our family over the past century. It’s no accident then that I’m crazy about beautiful old houses. You might say I’m under a spell of sorts. 
Enter the bungalow. Humble, yet poised, the bungalow debuted on the American architectural scene at the end of the industrial revolution at a time when Americans were falling out of love with fussy Victorians. Which is fitting given the straightforward nature of my immigrant ancestors. This new style of house enjoyed immense popularity through the late 1930’s as an affordable dwelling for families of modest means. For about $1000, the flowing floor plan paired with tasteful artistic appointments meant the typical American household could enjoy an attractive modern home of sturdy construction.
The Arts & Crafts movement came slightly later, and quickly married style to the solid structural elements fundamental to bungalow design. With a low profile and prominent horizontal accents, the bungalow sports one to one and a half stories beneath a low-pitched hip roof that spreads comfortably into a wide overhang. Beautifully exposed rafter tails, beams and brackets beneath gables, and square columns; the bungalow bestows a sense of welcome congeniality.
As tiny as a portico or as wide as the house, the front porch defies pretense by opening directly into the living room. Some regard the front porch as the true hallmark of this breed. It was certainly intended as an extension of outdoor living. And that’s exactly how I remember it. The wide, ascending brickwork alongside the front steps of my Grandmother’s house provided a miniature stage for our childhood performances. We performed flips and aerials off the edge while Grandma pieced together puzzles at her outdoor table. Neighbors wandered over after dinner to share iced tea and gossip on the front porch as we played one last game of tag in the front yard before the evening light disappeared. 
The warm glow of golden oak floors and generously proportioned millwork brings quality and light to this 5-7-room abode. And somehow the modest size has never felt crowded to me. With one bedroom on the main floor, our parents and grandparents enjoyed a measure of privacy. While upstairs in our slanted bedrooms, we whispered and giggled undisturbed far into the wee hours of morning.
Spellbound, I live and love in my own bungalow thousands of miles away from those imprinted in my childhood memories. So far away, and yet these familiar bones I call home let me know at the end of each day that I am exactly where I belong.
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