And so it goes

 

They tore down an old bungalow just down the street from us, and today they started the excavation, making a big racket and dust. 

The soil in West Seattle is sandy and dry as a desert! This is why, in an major earthquake, we would have something nasty going on called "liquification." But that's another story.

As I walked by, he was cheerfully ripping out a blooming hydrangea by the roots and a rather fine Japanese maple. A sad sight dangling from the bulldozer. A good job for little boys with toys who never grow up. 

One more urban patch of bird and insect habitat bites the dust, literally. 

The plan is to squeeze three tall townhouses on that tiny lot. The street in front of our house will soon be a staging area for construction deliveries over the next months. You wouldn't believe the huge trucks they maneuver down the narrow alleys. 

So the summer of relative quiet is over. And as always, our most beautiful season is going too fast. The Blue Angels just arrived in town for Sea Fair Weekend, screaming overhead when you least expect it. People find it thrilling, and I used to, but I'm getting old and crabby. Especially when it comes to our military tax dollars at work.

Anyway, I love August and it is almost here. Summer's last stand and always a bittersweet month. It has a lovely quality that feels heavy and light at the same time. Soon school starts, vacations wind down and fall ramps up. Most people think of autumn as the beginning of the new year. 

Follow the directions

 

 

Not to brag, but this was the best of many pizzas I've made with the NYT simple pizza dough recipe. 

What is the secret? Follow the directions (duh) to mix the dough a day ahead, then let it slow rise in the fridge. This is the same method that gives that wonderful crusty texture in homemade bread. 

No oily salty pepperoni, just vegetables and a mix of provolone and mozzarella. Who says pizza can't be healthy? And for a change, we made it through meatless Monday yesterday with leftover pizza for lunch and tofu stir fry for dinner. 

Other than occasional Thai take out (which I can't make at home) we almost never go out to eat anymore. One reason:

"Washington ranks as the most expensive state for dining out, with Seattle rivaling or exceeding costs in places like New York City."

The restaurant sticker shock is worse for people who remember when a bowl of soup was $5 not $20. And not that long ago. 

I don't mind cooking and John doesn't mind cleaning up the kitchen, so it works out pretty well.  

 

The many colors

 

My friend Tim posted a picture on Instagram of his gorgeous hydrangea blooming in several colors at once, almost like this one in our yard. 

Apparently it happens because soil acidity is rarely uniform across a garden bed, and the plant's roots sit in different areas picking up different ph levels. 

For some reason, our hydrangeas are more beautiful than ever. Two years ago, I pruned them almost to the ground and they did nothing last summer. Now they forgave me. 

Hydrangeas actually bloom best left alone with little or no pruning, but gardeners do like to fuss with them.

For example. I passed by this one many times on my old 2 mile pandemic loop walk. On the same walk recently, it was exactly the same, blooming its heart out over the sidewalk. The yard still neglected and never pruned, watered or dead headed-- so there you go. 

Well, I don't have much news. A heavy cloud is over Seattle after the shooting last night at the Bite of Seattle festival.

Really? What will it take? We ask ourselves again and again but nothing changes. 
 

Supersweet 100

 

 

More like Supersweet "500." The plant is covered with fruit. 

After a few days of hot weather, four months of watering and fertilizing suddenly pays off. This is a good variety to remember for next year. They have that sweet crunchy pop when you bite into them and nothing compares to a warm cherry tomato off the vine. 

Not to mention, the first simple tomato salad of the summer. 

Believe it not, we eat lots of iceberg lettuce salad in this house, and you gotta have iceberg for tacos. 

Iceberg has become rather unappetizing for the time being. It's unnerving how something so ubiquitous could make you deathly sick for weeks. 

We had Italian pasta last night that Amanda brought from Italy. I usually buy whole wheat pasta so this white orecchiette was a nice change. I cooked the whole bag and will do something with the leftovers this weekend.

Yes, the weekend, here again. A slight chance of showers and a high of 75.  So pleasant. 

 My sister Marji in Las Vegas sent this photo yesterday: 124 degrees on her patio in the sun. So dangerous. 

 

The locals down there are smart as desert rats. The tourists, maybe not so much.

 

Feast or famine

 

 

Our poor old abused plum tree is just dripping with fruit, and many are on low hanging branches right in the yard, not over the outside sidewalk. John doesn't like dodging branches on his way to the recycle but too bad. He likes making and eating chutney and if it stays this warm, we can pick in a week or so. 

Last year, there were almost none! Who knows with that fickle tree? The most common reason is poor bloom time weather (cold rainy days) or the lack of a cross-pollinator nearby. I happen to know there is another Italian plum tree living just across the street. (W. please tell B. not to ever chop it down.)

Anyway, time to think about canning, especially since I didn't do much last year. We are low on good plum chutney. I am a slapdash cook but a fussy canner. Everything has to be super clean and exact directions followed for processing, so the jars are still good two years later. In fact, the chutney mellows over time and gets even better. 

Also looks like a bumper year for tomatoes. The big dark pots bake in hot sun along the side of the house, a perfect spot for ripening. 

 

For some reason, I've enjoyed the yard more than ever this year, and trying to embrace all the work with more pleasure than annoyance. We should not take for granted how long we can do these things. As the saying goes:

"Everything is borrowed." 

 

 

  

 

1374?

 

That is a screenshot from the Purple Air app yesterday. Check out the gob-smacking number "1374" on the air quality index.

To put it in perspective, the standard index tops out at 500, and any number above this (such as 700 or 800) indicates catastrophic pollution. 

The town of Nespelum on the Colville Reservation in northeastern Washington, is roughly 90 miles from Twisp. 

 

This is one of the poorest areas of the state, and now that little town (above) is surrounded by a 65,000 acre fire. As often happens, the people who can least afford it lose everything. 

 

We woke up to a red and orange sunrise, but our air quality is still OK here in Seattle. It's going to be hot (for us) today close to 90 degrees. 

That's about all the news. Oh yes, some person dumped a big pile of junk in front of our hedge the other night. Our neighbor and I have reported illegal dumping to the city, but that can take days until they get around to cleaning it up. In the meantime, I hope people don't think the ones who live here did such a disgusting thing.