Hood River, the city, is like a cross between Hawaii, with its blue water and steep green cliffs, and British Columbia, with its piney woods and snow-capped peaks.  But Hood River is among the most exceptional small cities in North America for its people and culture: packed with microbreweries, restaurants, sports and outdoor gear outfitters, restaurants and cafes, and all sorts of people who hunger to live an outdoor life of skiing, climbing, biking, fishing and even outrigger canoeing.

Along with people who hunger for an outdoor life come good gardens.  And it is these gardens in the frontyards of Hood River homes that qualifies the city for me.  I’ve always judged places by its gardens, and I think, as the measure of a town, it works pretty well.  Colorado City, the fundamentalist Mormon town on the Utah-Arizona border, known for marrying off thirteen year old girls to aging polygamists, has nothing in the way of a good garden.  See how this works?

If I judge places by their flowerbeds, then there is this one thing I do at restaurants and hotels, and I did it again this morning while passing through the lobby of the Hood River Hotel.  I noticed a bouquet of orchids and exotic shoots that was made of plastic.  While the Hood River Hotel is one of my favorite hotels, I cannot help this fact – a plastic flower display is a subconscious dealbreaker for me.  A restaurant can have exquisite food and wonderful service, but the final touch of a fraudulent bloom does the place in for me.