Golden hops

 

I've tried growing fancy things here, like clematis, but hops is the only vine that survived in this dry, sandy spot. 

It thrives, actually, and covers the arbor top by the end of summer. Hops vines die back to the ground each winter, then explode with rampant upright growth in the spring. 

Golden hops is grown as an ornamental and less fussy about soil quality and moisture than the brewing varieties of hops. Eastern Washington is the hops growing capitol of the world, producing about 75% of the supply, primarily used in beer. 

Now mechanized, hops growing and picking was once labor intensive.

 

Somerset Maugham's autobiographical novel, "Of Human Bondage" has a vivid description of hops picking in the Kent countryside. The long book is worth reading just for that. 

In the early 20th century, entire families would travel by train and cart from the east end of London for hops picking-- a working holiday. 

 

 

The living conditions were terrible, but probably no worst than London slums. It was an escape from urban living. All the women and children worked, but there was also open air freedom for the teenagers, who found all sorts of fun and mischief in the countryside. (According to Maugham.)

Well, in the other parts of our little ecosystem, things are looking quite lush. 

 

Farewell to April. The sweetest months always go the fastest.

"Yet with these April sunsets"

 

A bouquet for the house, with the delicate scent of lilac each time you walk by-- in aromatherapy, used to ease anxiety. 

A hardy, almost indestructible shrub, there are still old lilacs growing on almost every block in West Seattle. As you walk along, the strong but light fragrance is evocative of every spring you can remember. 

One of my favorite poems, "Portrait of a Lady" by T.S. Eliot (featured before on this blog) tells a poignant story about a young man visiting an upper class English lady with whom he's had a relationship. He says he's leaving on an extended trip abroad. She puts on a brave face, but has some sharp words about the cruelty of youth:

 Now that lilacs are in bloom
She has a bowl of lilacs in her room
And twists one in her fingers while she talks.

"Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands
(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks.)

"You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see."
 
I smile, of course,
And go on drinking tea.

"Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall
My buried life, and Paris in the Spring,
I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world
To be wonderful and youthful, after all."

Well! We're headed into a divine stretch of spring weather, as good as it gets, with temps in the high 70's this weekend. "Hot" enough for the locals to start complaining. 

 

Yesterday was my recovery day from the long drive, but today the garden tools come out for some catch up work. 

Parting shots

 

I always snap a picture of the house for luck before locking the door-- my little superstition. 

It was hard to leave on such a perfect morning, but a nice drive down the valleys to Wenatchee. The Columbia River (actually Lake Entiat) making a perfect mirror reflection of the desert bluffs. 

There was a fair amount of traffic, with big RV's suddenly back on the roads. Everyone is in a rush but I stayed to the right as usual minding my own business. 

Snoqualmie Pass is treacherous in April because they haven't repainted the lane lines yet. I guess the snowplows scrape them off in the winter. Anyway, you know what to expect after all these years.

It was a full on Seattle feel when I got back-- cloudy and chilly after dry and sunny central Washington. 

Look at all that pollen! Everything is kind of a mess outside--

 Might as well enjoy the bluebells. I've thrown in the towel on that. 

Smell of spring

 

The river has a wonderful fresh scent right now from the melting snow. It's clean, earthy, sharp and really hard to describe. All winter, the snowflakes form around tiny specks of dust, minerals, or pollen, and as they melt, the water releases this metallic scent.

The Methow River usually reaches peak flow in May or June. There is still plenty of snow to melt in the high North Cascades, but unless we get sudden heavy rain (unlikely) it's shaping up to be a typical run off year.

Last visit, we were overrun with turkeys, but this time I haven't seen a single one. They are hidden away right now, brooding their eggs. Before long, they bring out the parade of pouts. They're fun to watch, although turkeys have worn out their welcome in town.

 

But the young deer are in the yard, learning how to reach the new foliage. Each time this one got a tasty bite, she did a happy little frolic. The energy of youth...

 

Speaking of which. Maya had the chicks and ducks out in the sunshine for play time yesterday.

The ducklings will soon outgrow their box in the garage, and Tom was working like crazy getting the outdoor house ready for them.

As spring bursts into life on the farm, each day brings new discoveries. 

 

Fresh and bright

The Carlton farm is truly smack up against the wilderness. Just a short walk off the property takes you into the 2500 acre Golden Doe Wildlife Area, with a beautiful riparian loop trail. And just beyond that to the northwest, the vast expanse of Okanogan Wenatchee National Forest, encompassing 3.8 million acres along the east slopes of the Cascade Range. 

Amanda and I had Golden Doe all to ourselves this morning, and what a morning-- the sun quite warm although the wind still had a chill. 

 Back down in the orchard, a blooming paradise. Just one perfect tree of hundreds...

Will every blossom become a piece of fruit? 

The thought of that much abundance boggles the mind. 

So much to learn and discover this first year with many surprises (good and bad) along the way for the new homeowners. They are loving it, but think "money pit."

The big weekend project will be getting the complicated irrigation systems up and running for the summer-- the dry season is already here. 

Sip and Paint

 

 

It poured rain yesterday, always a drag on the freeway, but traffic was light and I left early. The worst traffic and drivers are just getting out of Seattle. 

The trip was uneventful and a sugary peach smoothie (spring tradition) at Lone Pine fueled me up for the last 60 mile leg to Twisp. 

No painting there, but last night I went to a watercolor class. Art books and YouTube can only take you so far-- there's nothing like live demonstration, especially for a dynamic medium like watercolor. 

Our next door neighbor, Bethany Wray, is a well-known  artist in the Valley. She sells her art at the Twisp Saturday Market, on Instagram, and at Arrowleaf Studio at Twisp Works. 

She also teaches popular watercolor classes in the community and I registered for "Sip and Paint" at Ryzo Wines in Twisp.  

Bethany taught art at the elementary school for years, so she knows how to break a project down into steps with easy-to-follow instructions. And keep people's attention. A group of talking women friends with wine is like trying to wrangle a third grade class! 

I learned how watercolor is a process like anything else, it gets better with practice, but some basic tips really help. There were quite a few aha moments for me. 

And look at that. A good teacher is always defined by the results! 

 And mine-- not bad for a first attempt.

 

We were all copying Bethany's print (above) of a wildflower meadow. 

Speaking of flowers, the Arrowleaf Balsamroot are just starting to bloom, everyone's favorite time of year. They grow in great abundance here, turning the hills golden for a few weeks.