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 a messy process. 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, make something with those. 

 

 

What a  pretty little "Peaches and Cream" cake John bought at Metropolitan Market. I'm not a big cake eater but I love these. Best not to think about what they put in that "icing" to make it so good-- creamy dense and not overly sweet. Wonderful mouthfeel. In the old days, bakers used vegetable fat (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 tomorrow for a long weekend. I've hardly left home for weeks, and smoky or not, a 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. 

Non-atttachment

 

 

Nice numbers. What a relief.

I watch nature videos on YouTube now while I take my blood pressure. What's the big deal? 

My hypertension was an ongoing issue for months, shuffling me between unhelpful appointments, then urgent care, then finally the emergency room and hospital. It's too bad it took a medical crisis to finally get the right care, but I'm grateful.  

And along the way, I developed this phobia about using a home monitor. When I saw those scary numbers, I panicked. Honestly, who wouldn't? Anyway, that started the classic negative feedback loop. 

Speaking of observation: 

"The ability to observe and not instantly react is the highest form of spiritual intelligence." Blah blah blah. 

Total non-attachment to outcome is the stuff of saints and monks. We can try, but we're fighting human minds naturally wired for instant judgement and flight or fight reflex. 

Many good things have already come from this ordeal, some small, some life changing. As the numbers started coming down, I was finally able take it at home without dread. And now I'm watching that it doesn't go too far in the "right" direction. A nicer problem. 

Only one week ago today I was released from the hospital, barely able to walk and looking and smelling like a pile of beach wrack! Yesterday I made 6,000 steps. Onward we go. 

Have a wonderful weekend.  

Cute alert

 

 

Millie? Can we be friends?

 

Learning from Nica, the fine art of being underfoot in the kitchen...

 And getting loved to death...

And the art of total relaxation comes naturally to this breed...

Hey, maybe I wouldn't need pills with a little lap dog? 

 

It's been a quiet week on the home front. Our excellent, hardworking gardener came yesterday to cut back an overgrown lilac and give the laurel hedge its annual trimming.  Neat as a pin. 

 

Seattle summers are warmer than they used to be, warm enough to sit in the yard after dinner without a jacket. When I turn on a sprinkler, the chickadees show up and take showers in the olive tree. Speaking of blood pressure, this sure beats the evening news.