Iron House is located in the award winning First Addition neighborhood, and boasts a walk ability score of 97, the best place to live and grow in Lake Oswego,
We strive to be a green property, and noise pollution is kept to a minimum. Lush, Asian style common areas, rocked and neat, lead to a seasonal, heated private pool. Iron House is a neighborhood within the neighborhood, with 22 architecturally award winning, mid-century Asian styled units.
Iron House, the Zen Place to live..
Yasmin and Andrew's new home at Iron House...It is always so exciting to move a new resident in at Iron House Lake Oswego. The smiles on their faces, in anticipation of living in this amazing neighborhood, new friends and neighbors to meet, exploration of the First Addition area, we love this part of our job. With the opening of the Farmer's Market today, we kick off another Summer of fun, events, music and water-sports on the Lakewood Bay. We are very happy to welcome Yasmin and Andrew Imamura to the Iron House fold ~
As you may know, EB White was the author of the much-beloved books
“Charlotte’s Web,” “Stuart Little” and “The Elements of Style.” But did
you also know he was a dedicated beekeeper? With a dash of humor,
E.B. White addressed queen rearing in this poem, which was published in The New Yorker December 15, 1945:
Song of the Queen Bee
“The breeding of the bee,”
says a United States Department of Agriculture bulletin on artificial
insemination, “has always been handicapped by the fact that the queen
mates in the air with whatever drone she encounters.”
When the air is wine and the wind is free
and the morning sits on the lovely leaf,
and sunlight ripples on every tree
Then love-in-air is the thing for me
I’m a bee,
I’m a ravishing, rollicking, young queen bee,
That’s me.I wish to state that I think it’s great,
Oh, it’s simply rare in the upper air,
It’s the place to pair
With a bee.
Let old geneticists plot and plan,
They’re stuffy people, to a man;
Let gossips whisper behind their fan.
(Oh, she does?
Buzz, buzz, buzz!)
My nuptial flight is sheer delight;
I’m a giddy girl who likes to swirl,
To fly and soar
And fly some more,
I’m a bee.
And I wish to state that I’ll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.
There’s a kind of a wild and glad elation
In the natural way of insemination;
Who thinks that love is a handicap
Is a fuddydud and a common sap,
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I’m devil-may-care and I’m fancy-free,
The test tube doesn’t appeal to me,
Not me,
I’m a bee.
And I’m here to state that I’ll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.
Mares and cows. by calculating,
Improve themselves with loveless mating,
Let groundlings breed in the modern fashion,
I’ll stick to the air and the grand old passion;
I may be small and I’m just a bee
But I won’t have science improving me,
Not me,
I’m a bee.
On a day that’s fair with a wind that’s free,
Any old drone is a lad for me.
I’ve no flair for love moderne,
It’s far too studied, far too stern,
I’m just a bee—I’m wild, I’m free,
That’s me.
I can’t afford to be too choosy;
In every queen there’s a touch of floozy,
And it’s simply rare
In the upper air
And I wish to state
That I’ll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.
Man is a fool for the latest movement,
He broods and broods on race improvement;
What boots it to improve a bee
If it means the end of ecstasy?
(He ought to be there
On a day that’s fair,
Oh, it’s simply rare.
For a bee.)
Man’s so wise he is growing foolish,
Some of his schemes are downright ghoulish;
He owns a bomb that’ll end creation
And he wants to change the sex relation,
He thinks that love is a handicap,
He’s a fuddydud, he’s a simple sap;
Man is a meddler, man’s a boob,
He looks for love in the depths of a tube,
His restless mind is forever ranging,
He thinks he’s advancing as long as he’s changing,
He cracks the atom, he racks his skull,
Man is meddlesome, man is dull,
Man is busy instead of idle,
Man is alarmingly suicidal,
Me, I am a bee.
I am a bee and I simply love it,
I am a bee and I’m darn glad of it,
I am a bee, I know about love:
You go upstairs, you go above,
You do not pause to dine or sup,
The sky won’t wait —it’s a long trip up;
You rise, you soar, you take the blue,
It’s you and me, kid, me and you,
It’s everything, it’s the nearest drone,
It’s never a thing that you find alone.
I’m a bee,
I’m free.
If any old farmer can keep and hive me,
Then any old drone may catch and wife me;
I’m sorry for creatures who cannot pair
On a gorgeous day in the upper air,
I’m sorry for cows that have to boast
Of affairs they’ve had by parcel post,
I’m sorry for a man with his plots and guile,
His test-tube manner, his test-tube smile;
I’ll multiply and I’ll increase
As I always have—by mere caprice;
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I’m devil-may-care and I’m fancy-free,
Love-in-air is the thing for me,
Oh, it’s simply rare,
In the beautiful air,
And I wish to state
That I’ll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.
There is a place in our neighborhood, so carefully tended by a man that lives on Evergreen Street. It is such an amazing sight to behold, with art, fruit trees, which anyone can pick, eat and enjoy. The tree so lovingly carved with symbols of love and healing peace. The birds treat this place as a small sanctuary, as they flutter in singing their joyful song of appreciation. I encourage everyone that lives in Lake Oswego to take a walk to this place, I promise you will be in awe of the love that went into creating this small, loving space. ~ Holly
We should start seeing our Mason Bee Project at Iron House come to fruition soon. Our lovely little native bees, the Mason Bee, play a very important role in the balance of nature in Oregon. We love these little babies, so nondescript that they may go unnoticed by many people, or mistaken for something other than a bee. Iron House,along with our residents built an assortment of Mason Bee Houses, now we wait... to see if they liked their new homes enough to take up residence. The key is to attach them to a place at least three feet from the ground , and face the openings toward the east. I believe we will find that these little bee beauties love us as much as we love them.... For the love of bees....Holly
Soon, we will be rising bright and early to bustle down to the Lake Oswego Farmer's Market, and I can hardly wait. There is anticipation in the air, people are seeing those beautiful glimpses of sun through the cloudy skies. I can almost smell the glorious scents of flowers, gourmet food and coffee as it wafts through the air in our First Addition neighborhood. In May, when the market goes into full swing, music playing, and the beautiful abundance of Oregon, freshly harvested and displayed in all it's colorful bounty of fruits and vegetables, fresh from the market to your table. My mouth waters just imagining my first bite into a fresh, giant peach, or nibbling on Oregon berries, while I stroll with my bunch of freshly picked flowers, in an array of colorful beauty and varieties of fresh lavender. The food booths are enticing me with their aromas of Pacific NW restaurants, the choices are many, but once the choice is made, I wander to a Oregon wine booth, choose the perfect wine, find a table and feast, all while music plays at the main stage. ah...another wondrous day at the Lake Oswego Farmer's Market. Life is good.
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