The upper East side

Of Washington state, that is. Here's Amanda, Tom and Nova in the North Cascades mountains this summer.

Mom and Nova playing pioneer...

And "Roger" the noble mountain dog!

Wild Seattle

"Dead Horse Canyon" sounds grim, but it's a 35 acre nature park smack in the middle of Seattle. We took a walk there this weekend and had the place to ourselves on a cool and cloudy Saturday morning.

Taylor Creek runs down through the park, named after the Taylor Mill, which sawed logs on the southeast shore of Lake Washington in the 1800s. In 1909, homesteader and logger Charles J. Walker named the ravine Dead Horse Canyon after the death of a well-known horse that had roamed the area. Because the canyon was steep, nothing was ever built there, and in 1950 the land was deeded to the city.
Volunteers have recently cleaned up trash, planted native plants and built a walking path up the canyon. A magical stairway...
Notice on this August morning, John is dressed in his summer wool.
Salmon fry were released not long ago in Taylor creek, running below this bridge. A new culvert was placed from Lake Washington up to the creek, right under frantically busy Rainier Avenue South. Hopefully this will give the fish a way back to spawn, but it won't be known for years if they make it.

Whoa! Big slugs have the right-of-way.

On the other side of town, West Seattle's Schmitz Park is a tiny oasis of old-growth forest. It's an enjoyable walk down a steep path toward Alki Beach. Here's John, blazing the way through the shady glade on a warm day in July...
It's a city park, but this area is also left as natural as possible. It has a stand of ancient trees that the loggers somehow passed over. Other massive trees are down, like this one over a ravine. The top is worn smooth from daredevils walking on it.
Here's a pattern of roots growing over the top of a nurse log. Close to home, opportunity for nature photography...
And everywhere, lush vegetation. The little stream through Schmitz Park was "daylighted" several years ago. This means that water once diverted through a culvert is redirected above ground to restore the creek to a more natural state. The creek ends several blocks from Puget Sound, so unless the salmon can cross asphalt, they won't be returning here. But it's still encouraging to get out and see the hard work volunteers have done to save little pockets of nature in the big city.

Thirteen steps

Amanda called the other night to tell us Nova took her first steps-- not one, but thirteen quick ones right across the room.

It was over before she even realized she did it. But crawling is just for BABIES!

Officially, a "toddler."

Giving summer the bum's rush

Casa Blanca Lily

By August, the stores are already filled with Halloween candy and back-to-school stuff. The summer clothing (what's left of it) has been hanging on clearance racks for weeks. If you need a bathing suit now, you're out of luck; the best selection was in February. It's a shame to rush the seasons like we do, especially when it's been a short, chilly summer in our top left corner of the country.

The garden still has happy bees and colorful flowers-- dahlias, zinnias, hydrangeas, late roses and the last of the lilies. Even so, there's a winding down feeling, like a big party with tired guests. I whacked off clumps of flopping brown daisies yesterday, and had to admit the bare spots in the flower beds are kind of nice, making you appreciate what's left.

The first hints of fall are here: a few colored leaves on trees, dark mornings, dew on the windshield, and a bumper crop of spiders in the yard. When John leaves for work at 5:30, I hear him banging the broom around the arbor to clear the path, so the webs don't plaster his clean glasses on the way to the car.

This week we've had a few clear mornings, and looking up from my computer I could see the yellow moon sink behind the Olympic mountains. It makes you think of fall. A mama raccoon went by with three (teenage) babies. She looked pretty sick of them. It's been so, so quiet in this neighborhood, like the eye of the hurricane. No loud power tools or lawn mowers (the grass is all dried up.) But next week, the school buses will be roaring by the house again.

September is a get-things-done time in Seattle, and by October folks are holed up for the long, wet months ahead. It's a good time for travel, and we're planning a little trip to Cannon Beach sometime in September, just to have a look at the Pacific Ocean before winter sets in. And maybe an ice cream cone down the road at Tillamook.

Fall hydrangea

A morning's work

"Life is one long process of getting tired..."
Samuel Butler, 1835-1902

I read an article in the local newspaper saying that home canning is becoming trendy, which is interesting because it's so energy and labor intensive. It said there's frantic tweeting and texting going on between young canners, trying to get help from each other in the heat of the kitchen. I started canning long before it was fashionable, and I'm self-taught out of that calm and excellent classic: the Ball Blue Canning Book. But I remember the frantic feeling-- all those pots! the clumsy lids! the germs! the boiling water! It seemed like everything had to be done at once, urgently. Now it's more of a meditative activity, and I only do it in a quiet, empty house. (And that means you, John.)

Anyway, canning was once a cheap way to preserve cheap produce, but now you can buy just about anything for less than it costs to can it yourself. But there's something satisfying about the process of preserving food, and seeing all those sparkling jars lined up on the shelf. It's definitely worth the trouble for fancy things you can't buy at any cost; my specialty is chutney. Chutney is just a catch-all name for a fruit and vegetable combination cooked for hours with vinegar and spices. It's a savory relish, a topping, a condiment-- good on chicken, cheese, pork, beef, and of course, curry.

I stopped at McPherson's produce stand up on Beacon Hill for some bargains last weekend. This isn't one of those local, organic, sustainable, heirloom, chatty, meet-the-grower, I'm-so-special farmer markets that are popular here. You have to pick and choose carefully at McPherson's, but it's fun. The parking lot is a nightmare, and the place is a cultural stew pot: Hispanic families, Chinese, Vietnamese, Koreans, Indians, African Americans, Jews, and a sprinkling of sharp-eyed white ladies all competing for the best stuff ;-)
Here's my haul-- I got a little carried away. Or maybe I just enjoy making work for myself?
So Monday morning, I made two batches of chutney: tomato-pear and an old recipe called "Washington chutney" with peaches, plums, green peppers, onion, etc. I was on a roll, but that was a bit too ambitious and my hands and legs told me the next day. Chutney is easy, although the prep is lots of work: blanching, peeling, chopping, pitting, shredding, stirring. But once everything is finally in the darn pot, it just cooks down by itself for a few hours. Then you can can it, and admire your hard work.

White hollyhocks

The hollyhock is a member of the cotton and okra family, and these plants have similar packed seed capsules. The hollyhock arrived in English gardens in the 1500's, probably from Asia. In the language of flowers, hollyhocks suggested fruitfulness because of their many seeds. I've also read that the name "hock" might come from the medicinal use of the plant to reduce swelling in a horse's hind leg (called a hock.) The hollyhock has also been used for different human ailments.

This pretty white double variety came from the package of roots I planted last March. It was the only one to bloom the first year, so a nice surprise. It looks almost like a perfect gardenia or peony, but the rain will soon turn it brown.

Gardeners sometimes treat hollyhocks as "biennials" which is a nice way of saying they usually die off the second year. But I've had some tough hollyhock plants for decades, and hopefully this one will last as long. A pretty thing to look at when we take out the trash.


Old-fashioned flowers! I love them all:
The morning-glories on the wall,
The pansies in their patch of shade,
The violets, stolen from a glade,
The bleeding hearts and columbine,
Have long been garden friends of mine;
But memory every summer flocks
About a clump of hollyhocks.

from, Hollyhocks
Edgar Guest

Jade Buddha for Universal Peace

The Co Lam Pagoda is a Buddhist temple in the ethnically diverse Rainier Valley neighborhood. Last weekend, we drove over to see the Jade Buddha, which is on display there until August 29th.
The Buddha statue weighs 4 tons, and was carved from a single piece of jade. To many Asians, jade is precious because they believe it protects from evil and bad luck.
This is a new statue, not an antique. The enormous jade block was discovered in British Columbia in 2000, and an Australian couple (both practicing Buddhists) hired carvers in Thailand to create the work of art. Since then, the Buddha has toured with them through the U.S., Thailand and Viet Nam. It will be on the road for another 5 years, with the idea to help all people (regardless of religion) reflect on peace and follow a peaceful path.
As many as 15,000 visitors to the temple viewed the Buddha on opening weekend in Seattle. We were there by 8:30 on a rainy morning, so the temple grounds were relatively uncrowded. Along with seeing the beautiful Buddha, it was a glimpse at a culture and a different world, just a few miles from home.
Behind the large temple, there was an outdoor kitchen (above) and stalls selling all types of vegetarian food.
I loved these constructed snack bag displays. Fritos!
The garden behind the temple was filled with intricate sculptures. There were shrines with offerings, flowers and candles. The wet air was heavy with incense and spices.
And tucked away in the garden, a carved stone reminder of the cycle of life...

Meditation practice is at the heart of Buddhism. On the most basic level, it's about mindfulness and the great relief of detaching from your self for short periods of time. So simple, so hard. Buddhism also gives us awareness of the causes of human suffering. Here's just a few:

1. Object referral (If that happens, then I'll be happy)
2. Egoism (me, me, me)
3. Fear of death (universal)
4. And (of course) the bitter pickle

Refrigerator pickles

Sometimes you can find fresh pickling cucumbers at produce stands in August. One of the fastest ways to make dill pickles is in the fridge-- no canning, boiling or brining. Here's an easy recipe:

3 cups white vinegar
1 & 1/2 cups sugar
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp each: mustard seed, celery seed, turmeric, red pepper flakes, black peppercorns
3 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced
1 fresh dill head, or 1/2 tsp. dried dill weed
Pickling cucumbers
Put the vinegar, salt and sugar in a pan, and simmer until dissolved. Put all the dried spices in the bottom of a clean jar along with the sliced garlic. Wash the cucumbers and stack them in. You can also slice them in half or make rounds.
Pour the hot vinegar-sugar mixture over the pickles. (If you shop at Costco, you'll recognize the empty marinated artichoke jar.) The vinegar mixture in this recipe was just enough to cover the pickles to the top.

The pickles are "done" after a few days in the refrigerator, and they will keep a month or so. The only way to go wrong is if the cucumbers are bitter (and this is not your fault.) If you slice them first, you can take a little bite of each one before you put it in the jar. Or just live dangerously, and see what you get in a few days.

Colorado open-pit mining

Twenty years ago, the old mine head-frames, piles of ore and relics were the only evidence that mining ever existed in Cripple Creek. But when technology and the rising price of gold made open pit mining economically feasible in 1994, the landscape was changed forever. My dad and I took an escorted company tour of the Cripple Creek and Victor Gold Mining operation, and we bounced around in a van to the very bottom of the mind-boggling pit.
Here's Open Pit Mining for Dummies:

1. An international company secures exclusive mining rights to some 6,000 acres of Colorado high country behind Pikes Peak. They put up a fence and lots of no-trespassing signs.

2. They scrape off the ancient forests, the paper thin top soil and "overburden" rock. With massive equipment, this takes only a few minutes per acre. They start making a new mountain with all the worthless stuff.

3. They pulverize the bedrock with carefully mapped underground explosions, and pile the rubble on Euclid trucks. This is done in 12 hour shifts, 24/7.

4. The ore is hauled to a crusher, where it is ground into pieces no bigger than 3/4 inch.

5. A gigantic mountain is made with the crushed ore, and the top is drenched with sodium cyanide.

6. After 6 months, the cyanide finally leaches to the bottom of the mountain.

7. The "mud" that runs out is captured. It contains gold and silver.

8. This poisonous liquid is processed at high heat, and the $700,000 gold bars are sent out of the country. (40,000 tons of Colorado mountain might yield 1/2 oz. of gold.)

The Pit

Smiling in the maw of the monster shovel

The crushing operation

A 80,000 pound load arrives at the crusher

The cyanide leach pad viewed from Cripple Creek. The black lines on the top left are the cyanide hoses.

All that glitters...

This method of mining is used in places where minerals are near the surface. The pits typically just keep getting bigger until the minerals are exhausted, or the increasing ratio of overburden to ore makes it uneconomic. When this occurs, the best use of old pits is for solid waste landfills, provided the pit doesn't fill first with toxic water.

Of course the mine company has a well-publicized "reclamation" process, but it can take thousands of years for waste dumps to become acid neutral and stop leaching into the environment. At 9,000 feet, forests take centuries to regenerate. Mining does bring a few good jobs to the area, but the profits leave the country. There are no long term studies on harm to the environment with cyanide leaching. It hasn't been done long enough. I'm looking down at my gold wedding ring right now-- we're all guilty.

And here's a final thought: All the gold produced worldwide in a year could fit in the average person's living room.

Nova in the summer

Except for a few blasts of heat, it's been a chilly summer in the Northwest. Nova has her winter woollies on. These were taken by Amanda and Tom on a trip to Fort Worden, near Pt. Townsend.

Playing on the grass...

A smile that lights up the grayest day!

Home again

Hanging around the Cripple Creek Post Office

This is me getting off the plane last night. Flying the friendly skies sure takes the starch out of a person, but somehow the system gets most of us where we're going, at about the time we hoped. It feels good to be home.

Eleven Mile Canyon

Instead of brilliant Colorado blue skies, this morning I'm looking out at gray marine overcast. I may have missed the last of summer-- Seattle had record heat but now it's back in the 60's. Thank you John for doing the relentless watering. The garden looks wild but great.

Indian Paintbrush

I'll sort through the Cripple Creek pictures, and post more on the interesting mining tour later. Right now the washing machine is calling me...

Cripple Creek mining

(Photos by Dave Bleam)

One thing about Colorado weather, if you don't like it, just wait 10 minutes. We woke up to bright blue skies this morning, after an end-of-the-world thunderstorm yesterday afternoon. My dad and I took a tour of the open pit mining operation- this monstrous hole is just a mile or so (as the bird flies) from their house in Cripple Creek. It was a surreal experience seeing entire mountains ground up into 1/2 pieces. I'll write more about it when I get home and load my pictures. Tomorrow is a travel day back to Seattle, wish me luck.

Old Cripple Creek

The gold-bearing area of the Cripple Creek district (and the town) sits in the core of an ancient volcano six square miles square. This was taken in 1897, at the peak of the population boom. Everything burned to the ground shortly after this, and was eventually rebuilt. But Cripple Creek was never as large as this again.

The richest gold here existed in veins and deposits deep in the old volcano. I say "existed" because most of it has been mined out. Beneath our feet, the entire area is honeycombed with tunnels and mines. Now the mining is all "open pit" and massive amounts of ore must be ground up and processed to extract tiny amounts of pure gold. Obviously, with the price of gold so high, it's economically feasible to do this now. My dad and I are taking a tour this morning of the mining operation, and will get to see the enormous pit and processing equipment. More on that later...

The Cripple Creek story

The story of the Cripple Creek district is the story of gold mining. Humans are hard-wired to be greedy about the golden stuff, no? And men have gone to the ends of the earth digging it out. The old underground mines in Colorado are exhausted, but open pit mining has operated since 1994 around Cripple Creek. This is an unlovely process of grinding up entire mountains and leaching gold from ore in open cyanide ponds.

After a boom of 10,000 people in 1893, in the 1930's the population of Cripple Creek was down to a few hundred. The view above is from the 1950's, when Cripple Creek drew interest only as a decaying historic town. The Cripple Creek I remember from the 1960's looked something like this. There was a court house and a few cowboy restaurants and bars along with a hotel that staged melodramas. It was a quaint place for tourists to take pictures of old mine shafts (or fall in them) and buy ice cream cones and souvenirs. To a teenager itching to head out for California, it was the most boring place on earth. But as time went by, Cripple Creek grew on me, and I've had many enjoyable trips back there since. The winters are cold, but the scenery and high mountain climate is beautiful in the summer and fall when the aspens change color.

Gambling (or I should say gaming) changed Cripple Creek forever 1991, when Colorado voters allowed the town to establish legalized gambling. Below is a recent view of downtown during a motorcycle rally. Just the next boom in a boom-cycle town.

High tech casinos sprang up behind the original building fronts on Bennett Avenue, which were carefully preserved for historic atmosphere. This gives the disorientating sensation of walking through an old brick storefront into a jangling, banging, ringing, miniature Vegas-style casino. Outdoor lights are not allowed on the facades, except at Christmas (below) when the casinos go all out for a few weeks.