Country delight

 

 

A pretty view of the farmhouse last night when I left after dinner. They've already transformed it into a such a warm and charming family home. 

The winding drive back to Twisp, at least this time of year, is pitch black, but with no cars on the road I just poke along watching out for critters. The other night in the rear view mirror, it looked like someone was tailgating, but it was just the full moon. 

 

Speaking of critters, their neighbor took this picture of a bold-as-brass cougar walking along the road, just a mile from the farmhouse. Usually secretive animals, it's unnerving to see a cougar in broad daylight. They did notify the local game warden that he's hanging around the neighborhood. Yikes. He certainly looks well fed.   

 

 

Anyway, what a wild and beautiful place, right up against the western wilderness. Yesterday I took Nica outside with me (she could spot a cat a mile away) and listened to birdsong-- in a few seconds, the Merlin app lit up with seven different species. And it isn't even spring yet!  It will look like paradise in a few months when those hundreds of fruit trees bloom. 

 

 

 

 

Pigmy Nuthatch

 

 

It hasn't been all play here. Those are Potentilla shrubs, planted by the previous owner along the front of the house. Good choice and thank you. 

They bloom very prettily with yellow flowers all summer long, on just a measly drip line of moisture. Tough as nails but in the winter look ugly and dead. I pruned back half today, and will do the rest tomorrow. 

In other oddities, the riverbank has been mostly bird silent (too early) but I got outside just in time with my Merlin sound app to catch a few chips of the Pigmy Nuthatch. A first.

OK. The turkeys have outworn their welcome in the Methow Valley, especially in the tourist town of Winthrop. Here in Twisp, huge flocks still roam around, like this 50 or so in front of the house today. I can't help but like such a successful creature, dinosaurs actually. 

Karen came over and we ate soup for lunch, then I took a long solo walk around town.  Of course it's sad to walk past Amanda and Tom's house up the street, now a rental, but I'm so glad they have a beautiful new home in Carlton.

They are not missing anything. This is a time of change and construction in downtown Twisp. Check this out-- a new monstrosity climbing gym wall on main street, of all things, dwarfing buildings around it, Who would have thought?  Looks like west Seattle.  

 

This summer, downtown Twisp has a major downtown renovation project coming on Glover Street. 

Progress marches on. 

Above and beyond

 

By lucky accident, I'm enjoying the best weather in weeks. It's been a dry (as in no snow) and gloomy (as in overcast) winter in the Valley which is not what the folks here expect. 

Now spring seems to be arriving early and everyone is happy to finally see blue sky. Icky mud season will be short, since there is so little snow on the ground.

It was a spectacular morning and Karen and I hiked up Mill Hill. For the athletic locals, this steep trail above town is just a little routine exercise jaunt. I'm always pleased with myself to make it (slowly) to the top, or almost the top. Most locals don't go up to the giant Twisp cross that dominates the mountain top. 

 

 

Karen and I really enjoy our easy companionship, what a gift. It's a special bonus how wherever we go, I'm being introduced to locals. She has been in the Valley for decades, and everyone knows and understandably loves her. 

 

Other than that, I've doing some spring cleaning, even though nothing is especially dirty. I don't know why, but housework here is less drudgery than our old, old house in Seattle that seems to manufacture dust. And it helps to have a bright and pretty view while I'm puttering around.

 

 

The riverbank talks

 

"An the river bank talks of the waters of March, it's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart." Antonio Carlos Jobim

 

Welcome, March. It feels like we missed the Methow Valley winter altogether, which might not be a bad way to go. 

It seems more like April right now with the warm sun and dry ground. A strange February indeed-- no melting berms along the roads or dirty piles of snow all over town. 

On Saturday I even got my beach chair out of the garage ate a sandwich by the river, watched over by some chubby townies, begging for a crust. 

We had a great weekend. Dinner was nice on Friday, fancy salads (the weird looking one was my apple and prosciutto) then shared a wood fired pizza which hit the spot.

I made a big curry dinner for the gang last night and we had a good time. Karen and I are going out to the farm today for a walk with Amanda. It is another spectacular morning without a cloud in the sky. John is on his way home and should have an easy drive back to Seattle.

 

Anniversary

 

"Men aren't usually thinking about anything that would remotely interest women. And vice versa."

I don't know the source of that quote, but it's probably true, except for a few universal thoughts, like food. 

Well, despite our wildly different brains, the world is full of happy couples muddling along through all the ups and downs of a long marriage. 

On February 27, 1993, our dear parents in that picture were about the same age we are now. And if that doesn't give a person pause for thought, nothing will. 

Nice weather today for driving over to Twisp and we'll celebrate 33 years at new restaurant in town called Lupo Brio. 

Then on Saturday night, hopefully gather the busy family at the house for dinner. John heads back to Seattle on Sunday, a short visit for him, but I'm looking forward to staying into next week to do some spring housecleaning and catch up with my neighbor Karen. 

Poem for the day

 

A Quiet Life
  Poem by Baron Wormser


What a person desires in life
    is a properly boiled egg.
This isn’t as easy as it seems.
There must be gas and a stove,
    the gas requires pipelines, mastodon drills,
    banks that dispense the lozenge of capital.

There must be a pot, the product of mines
    and furnaces and factories,
    of dim early mornings and night-owl shifts,
    of women in kerchiefs and men with
    sweat-soaked hair.

Then water, the stuff of clouds and skies
    and God knows what causes it to happen.
There seems always too much or too little
    of it and more pipelines, meters, pumping
    stations, towers, tanks.

And salt-a miracle of the first order,
    the ace in any argument for God.
Only God could have imagined from
    nothingness the pang of salt.

Political peace too. It should be quiet
    when one eats an egg. No political hoodlums
    knocking down doors, no lieutenants who are
    ticked off at their scheming girlfriends and
    take it out on you, no dictators
    posing as tribunes.

It should be quiet, so quiet you can hear
    the chicken, a creature usually mocked as a type
    of fool, a cluck chained to the chore of her body.
Listen, she is there, pecking at a bit of grain
    that came from nowhere.