Times are a-changin'

 

 

Downtown Twisp is still a major work in progress. There's also new commercial and housing construction everywhere you look. Suddenly, it seems everyone wants to live in Twisp. 

 

 

Wide sidewalks going in on Glover Street, near Amanda and Tom's old place. We are all so thankful the family moved out to the bucolic farm in Carlton.

Speaking of construction, even our little backwater river street is not immune. Someone just bought the small lot next to our driveway. Will they build a ugly Seattle style narrow box? They are following me...

Anyway, at this stage of the game, only so many things one person can worry about. Like beavers. My excellent property management company said they will wire wrap our close in trees this fall to try and save them. Not to mention, save our house from a giant crashing cottonwood tree. The beavers sure don't give a you-know-what. They were here first. 

 

 

But some things are still the same like the friendly little taco stand in town where we had lunch today.

We are heading back to Seattle tomorrow before heavy rain on Wednesday, which makes for miserable mountain driving. But I'll be back again in a couple of weeks to take advantage of lovely September. There is already a nip in the air and that slight feeling of fall urgency people get, especially in rural areas. 

The girls went back to school today. Maya in 8th grade, Nova is a senior! 

 

 

While the cats away

 

 

 

While we were gone, the beavers kept busy chewing down a large tree. Good job, guys. A perfect hit and it smashed one of my river chairs. And I thought they only "worked" in the winter. 

 

The trunk is so heavy it won't budge without a chainsaw. Maybe I can hack out the pieces. It does look pretty trashy. Oh well, I wanted new ones next spring anyway.

 

Other than that, everything is fine here-- the house just as clean and neat as when I left in June. The lawn was generously irrigated all summer which was wasteful but looks great. 

Best of all, we bought some rain along yesterday, always a rare gift here in parched central Washington. When we stopped at Lone Pine for lunch, the air smelled like someone had just just dumped water on a campfire. A good thing. 

More later... 

Plum tuckered out

 

Six jars of jam, seven pints of plum halves and I forget how many jars of chutney. 

Anyway, a nice stash. It is satisfying (in a trad wife sort of way) seeing those jars lined up. And still many plums left on the tree for family, friends, and scavenging neighbors. 

. 

Homemade jam is messy. I cleaned the counters, stovetop and put the canning paraphernalia back in the basement for now. Maybe I'll drag it all out again for applesauce in September, and if I scrounge a few pears from the Carlton orchardists, preserve something with those. It was not a good year for fruit over there. 

 

 

What a  pretty little "Peaches and Cream" cake John bought at Metropolitan Market. Best not to think about what they put in that "icing" to make it so good-- creamy dense and not overly sweet. Wonderful mouthfeel. Must be the fat. In the old days, bakers used Crisco and probably still do.

What was the occasion? Well, how about life returning to some semblance of normal. 

We have not been to our Twisp home since June, sad! But we're finally going back for a long weekend.  We haven't left Seattle for months, and smoky or not, a river change of scene sounds terrific. 

Late bloomers

 

The hydrangeas have been wonderful all summer, and now the subtle colors are even prettier in the slanting afternoon light. A fleeting moment, as they will soon turn brown in the the fall rain. We've probably seen the last of the 80 degree days in western Washington. 

But there are still nice days ahead, and I hope to make up for lost summer time and enjoy next month. We followed up this week with my new cardiologist (who didn't seem too worried about anything) also my personal doctor (ditto) and no new appointments scheduled until October. Yay. 

Who doesn't love September? No wonder so many poignant songs and poems have been written about September. 

When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.

Julian Barnes
From "Flaubert's Parrot"

 

 

 

A fine little poem

 

By William Carlos Williams, 1934

Good poetry does not need grand or tragic subjects. Grab the plums when you see them and live happily in the present. 

 

 

And it's not like there's any shortage around here at the moment.

(I did not steal that Trader Joe basket. John found it out in the alley and I'm repurposing.)

Now we're cooking

 

 

The flowers are mostly finished in our bedraggled looking yard, except for the last roses of summer giving it their all. August is an easy month for the gardener with nothing much required except watering and deadheading-- it's been so dry even the weeds have given up until the fall rains arrive.

Good thing, because I'm not back to my normal activity levels yet. This is the longest stint I've ever spent staying just at home and I'm getting pretty restless. Yesterday I took my first sole driving excursion (to Safeway where else?) and even that felt liberating, doing something resembling my normal life. 

I've recovered from the hospital and feeling pretty dandy other than medication side effects brought on by the sudden lower blood pressure. Maybe, too low. Hopefully that gets adjusted when we see the cardiologist tomorrow for follow up. This is a trial and error thing in the beginning. 

 

We canned 14 jars of plum chutney on Saturday, so that's progress, although picking 8 pounds barely made a dent in the tree.

And I made a traditional German plum kucken, which was good with vanilla ice cream in front of the television. We've been watching old BBC Masterpiece Theater detective series, the ultimate escapist TV.