The Kestrel's Eye

Last night we watched a beautiful nature film called the Kestrel's Eye. The film follows a pair of falcons over a year as they nest in an old church in a Swedish village. It isn't like a typical nature film-- there's no narration or background music. The cameras are hidden inside their nook in the bricks of the church, so this is about seeing the world from the bird's perspective. You watch them hunt and mate and raise five hatchings while the world of the church goes on below them. With their constant expressive twittering, it was almost like the bird's perspective on the mysterious behavior of humans.

The kestrel is also known as a "windhover" because it hunts by hovering on the wind, and one of its most beautiful movements is a rapid glide on a curve. The film made me think of a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, where he describes the deeply religious thrill of seeing the bird flying at dawn.

My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird-- the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

This is usually the season when a gray curtain of rain and clouds descend on Seattle. But, typical to the atypical weather we've had all year, the next stretch of days will be warm and sunny. I'm going back to my barn this morning to bring home all the stuff a pampered horse accumulates over a long lifetime. When I drive up the lane, I'll be looking for her.

Memory

From time to time there are mornings, both in the summer and winter, when especially the world seems to begin anew, beyond which memory need not go... it is the poet's hour.

Thoreau's Journal
1853

A wonderful thought. One pure hour of rest on a quiet morning where "memory need not go." Memories bring us joy, but also intense sorrow.

Before I went into the History Museum to work yesterday, I walked along the Foster Island nature trail on Lake Washington and took a picture of these lily pads. They looked like fall, even more than the trees which are just starting to change in Seattle. As I walked along, I thought about how different the world looks from the back of your horse. And how lucky I am to have that special view imprinted forever on my memory.

But memory is an interesting thing. When I go to the library in the basement of the Museum, I pass the same exhibits each Tuesday, but I see something new each time. And I'll think, how could I miss that? What else am I missing today?

Perhaps memory is like time. We think we understand it. We want to believe it's linear and objective and fades into the past when we think it should. But we don't understand it at all. I've learned that grief is a dark fog, but the sunshine of loving friends slowly lifts it. Our sad experiences become memories that soften over time, and this is the blessing we pray for. Thank you for your kind thoughts and words.

Farewell to a Dear Friend

"Chic's Sizzle Lou"
1984-2010

September 25th was one of those heartbreakingly beautiful autumn days that only come once a year. Under warm blue skies, surrounded by gentle friends, my dear horse Sizzle passed peacefully away, and a wonderful chapter in my life came to an end.

If love alone could have kept you going, you would have lived for a thousand years, instead of 26.

I'll miss looking into your soft brown eyes. I'll miss putting my arms around your silky neck and feeling warm sweet breath on my back.

I'll miss how you were always happy to see me. Or maybe it was the peppermints and carrots? :-)

You were a big part of our family for over a decade, through so many events and milestones.
With your gentle ways and big personality, you were a favorite wherever you lived. You touched many lives, and everyone liked you. But little girls loved you.
I'll always remember how proud I was to say you were mine. How you could bring out the best and worst in me, but how you always kept me grounded in the present moment. And now, I'm grateful to look back and know I never took one moment I had with you for granted.

You made me feel like the luckiest person in the world.
I'll miss our lifestyle that centered around the best place on earth: a horse barn.
In my dreams I'll remember the hours we spent alone, how we trusted and took care of each other in the high mountains and on city streets.

I'll remember the good friends and their horses, too. And long hours on the trail.

All the big adventures we had together, and the simple joy of just spending days outdoors.

I'm grateful to the fine horsemen like Tom and women like Dr. Jean who taught us so much, along with the crazy characters, the funny people, and all the silly things that go along with boarding horses. And who can forget the thousands of hours in the car driving out to far-flung barns. It was all worth it.
There were the kind, quiet ones who cared for you, so you could enjoy such a long, healthy life.
I'll think back on how lively you were when you were young, how you challenged me emotionally and physically, and how you made me stronger and braver than I ever imagined I could be.

And I'll always smile to think of my big, strong Quarter-horse who was terrified of cows!

Happy trails, dear Sizzle-- until we meet again.

I hope your heaven has sweet grass to eat and cool mud to roll in. The years we spent together were heaven on earth for me.

Victorian Trading Company

I've been getting this mail order catalog forever, and I'm not sure why. Well, OK--I've ordered a thing or two over the years, so I guess you can't blame them for trying. It's fun to look at, and filled with silly expensive clothing for dressing up like a Victorian lady.

Who buys these things? I image closets filled with clothing worn only once or twice. (Of course, I should talk.) It also has reproductions of old-fashioned holiday knick-knacks. Halloween wasn't a Victorian holiday at all, but they sell odd things to make you think so. I do like this big tin moon face, but where would I store it for the other 50 weeks of the year?

Speaking of that, our house isn't big but it's old, with lots of shelves and little cubby holes where you can stash things and forget about them for-- oh, 30 years or so. That's how long I've lived here, which amazes me when I think about it. If you like bargain shopping and hauling home old interesting things, before long you're swimming in stuff, and risk an avalanche on your head when you open a closet door. So here's my goal between now and Christmas: clean out one closet, cabinet or drawer a day. If I haven't worn it or touched it for two years, it better have serious sentimental value, or out it goes.

There's a recent movie called "Please Give" that we're looking forward to seeing on DVD. It's about an upscale second hand store in New York, filled with the lifetime accumulations of dead people and a different sort of "ambulance chasing" by the acquisitive owners. Fun stuff. Click here for a link to a NYT review.

Green tomatoes and tiny pickles

The first summer I planted a few vegetables in my flower beds has turned out to be the worst one for growing them. OK, the zucchini did fine, but when doesn't it? And I have a decent number of ripe Roma tomatoes. All of these (and more) from just one potted plant:

But this stunted cucumber is struggling along:There are all sorts of creative things to do with green tomatoes, none of which I've tried. There was a recipe in the paper for Rustic Italian Green-Tomato Jam which sounds tasty-- anything with "Rustic Italian" in the name usually does. If you feel ambitious, here it is:

2 pounds green tomatoes, cored and cut in 1/2 pieces
1 and 3/4 cups sugar
2 lemons
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
3 inch cinnamon stick, broken

In a glass bowl, toss together the tomatoes, their juice and seeds, and the sugar. Cover with plastic and refrigerate for 24 hours. Remove from fridge 1 hour before cooking, then turn mixture into a heavy 4 quart pan. With a zester, shred yellow skins of both lemons into the tomatoes. Trim and discard the white pith and cut the lemon into small pieces, removing seeds. Add to tomatoes.

Bring the mixture to a boil, and simmer uncovered until candy thermometer reads 210 degrees. Test thickness by spooning jam on a chilled plate-- do not overcook. It will keep 2 weeks in the refrigerator or 6 months in the freezer.

Serve at room temperature on, what? The recipe doesn't say, but with all that lemon, maybe crackers and cream cheese? Let me know if you make it.

Ugh

Sorry, early morning followers-- no pretty picture today. I saw this big creature on the dining room ceiling yesterday. And what about those wicked looking markings? I've never seen a spider like that before in broad daylight. So I climbed on a chair and took this picture with the zoom. Even that was too close.

My sister runs a bug extermination business in Las Vegas, and she told me her best steady customers have arachnophobia. I just read on disabled-world.com that it's the most common animal phobia. That figures...I'll probably get it too if I see another one like this in the house.

So Marji, if you see this let me know what it is. I was too creeped out to look at more pictures of spiders on the Web. The first sign of phobia?

Equinox and corn dollies

In the United Kingdom, a traditional Harvest Home celebration took place on the full moon Sunday closest to the September equinox. The last food crop load was decorated with ribbons or flowers and brought in with singing, shouting, and big partying. The Harvest Home song went something like this:

Harvest home, harvest home!
We've plowed, we've sowed
We've reaped, we've mowed
And brought home safe, every load.

(beer helped)

As part of the celebration, a doll made of the last harvest sheaf was carried back on a wagon or held on a pole by a harvester. She was pelted with apples and later burned. The tradition goes back to early matriarchal societies where crop fertility was supposedly assured by the sacrifice of such symbols. But some part of the doll was also given to horses or cattle to eat, or strewn in fields to ensure next year's harvest.

The autumnal equinox occurs this evening, when the center of the sun is on the same plane as the earth's equator. Something to ponder: there are only two days in the year when day and night are roughly the same length at every location on earth. Today is one of them.

The picture above was downloaded from the mesmerizing website http://www.die.net/earth/ which shows a computer-generated illustration of the earth's pattern of sunlight and darkness, along with real-time weather satellite imagery. (It's also great for looking at hurricanes.) I downloaded this picture a few days ago at 2:00 pm Pacific time. The sharp vertical line dividing night and day is only seen during the spring and fall equinoxes, when we have approximately 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness.

Autumn
Alphonse Mucha

Here in Seattle, fall is coming in quickly and we had the lowest overnight temperatures since last spring. Rain tomorrow, but for now a beautiful sunny day ahead with trees just starting to turn. I'm looking forward to riding my old Sizzle down to the park this afternoon.

Seasons change

Yesterday morning, we woke up to the cheerful sound of raccoons fighting outside the bedroom window. They sounded like a pack of wolverines. Are coons and wolverines related? I'll have to look it up sometime.

Other than bickering mammals, it's been quiet around the yard lately; where are the songbirds? Nothing but crows, crows, crows. And an occasional flock of starlings. Plus a few dainty chickadees at the feeder.

Sharp-shinned Hawks are a sign of fall here, and we always watch for them when they migrate through Seattle. Sure enough, we saw a big female hunting near the neighbor's laurel hedge last week. The female sharp-shinned hawk is twice the size of the male, and large enough to capture robins. They hunt by silent surprise and they're good at slipping through dense thickets. They will eat other little creatures, but the diet of choice is small birds. Songbirds avoid the feeder and lay low when the hawks are around.

Last October, Amanda and I were sitting at the kitchen table when we saw one dive into our thick bamboo and grab a sparrow out as slick as can be. Then we watched him meticulously pluck the feathers before he ate his dinner. It was beautiful and grisly. This is the last sight for many little birds:
Too bad they don't eat fat raccoons!

How permanent is permanent?

A bad hair day

Vanity is the cause of trouble, grief and expense. We all know this, but it doesn't keep us from trying.

When I came home from the hairdresser on Saturday, John exclaimed, "What did you DO?" (He usually doesn't notice these things.) Well...actually, I did nothing except sit for two hours while a well-intentioned lady worked diligently on my "foil." Some of you know what that ridiculous process is.

Instead of blond highlights, I got dark red and yellow streaks, with solid blobs on my temples. A not-so-subtle way to hide the gray. On the bright side, this new woman gave me a pretty decent trim, but she still has a way to go as a Colorist (as they like to call themselves.)
No, this is not my head. I wish it were. My red is more like a fake mahogany furniture stain. But the stylist told me not to worry, because it will "fade over time."
Like all things, I guess.

"Only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."

W.B. Yeats

Scenic by-ways of Washington

Well, things have changed since Lewis and Clark came through, but getting to the Pacific coast still takes some planning. There are several driving routes you can take from Seattle. None are direct, some require ferry rides, and the fastest ones are not especially scenic. When you finally escape the freeway, the busy highways wind through landscapes ravaged by clear-cut logging. On the Olympic Peninsula you'll see farmland and mill towns, and everywhere reminders of past rough use of the land.

Last week on our trip to Cannon Beach, we took a small detour through a picturesque corner of Washington state. This part of the Columbia River is rich in Lewis and Clark history:

(Click on map to enlarge)

The town of Cathlamet is the seat of tiny Wahkiakum County in the southwest corner of the state. It sits on the banks of Puget Island, which is reached by bridge from the Washington side of the river. It was once the site of a large Native American settlement. Lewis and Clark came through here on their final leg to the Pacific coast, where they spent a miserable, rainy winter eating dried fish. But fur traders and settlers soon followed, and the generous tribes around Cathlamet were quickly decimated by disease.

Of course it helps to have a sparkling blue, autumn day, but I thought Puget Island had character and a certain rustic charm. The bridge to the island (and the island itself) are part of Washington state, but to get to Oregon from Puget Island you must take a ferry across the Columbia River. Below is a picture of the town ferry dock:
There were about 6 cars waiting for the ride ($5 one way.) The tiny platform below is actually the ferry:
Within a few minutes, we were all loaded and safely across the Columbia. From there, we headed down the highway to Astoria on the Oregon side of the river.

Here's the ferry deck supervisor :-)

Cannon Beach, Oregon

If you look at a Washington map, you might believe Seattle is "on the ocean." It is not. We live near Puget Sound which is salt water, but still a long way from the Pacific coast. John was on vacation this week, so we decided to visit the Oregon coast. From Seattle, Cannon Beach is about a 5 hour drive if you stop for lunch, as we did along the freeway to eat salami sandwiches brought from home. Never mind! The thought of seeing the ocean keeps you going along frantic I-5, and finally down the coast from Astoria to the quiet Oregon beach towns.
Where to stay? Before we left I reserved a kitchenette ocean front room in Cannon Beach at a motel called Webb's Scenic Surf. (above) It's been in business since 1942, so I figured must have something going for it. In fact, every night the "no vacancy" sign was up again. Good thing we booked in advance. We had a cozy and clean room with a great view from the bottom floor.
The natural wonder of Cannon Beach is 235 foot Haystack Rock. It's the third tallest inter-tidal sea stack the world, meaning it's accessible by foot at low tide. The rock is an important refuge for rare puffins and other sea birds. In fact, from a distance it looks like a giant beehive with the birds swarming above.
With the wind at your back, the walk from our room took about 15 minutes.
As you drink your wine and watch the sunset, it's easy to imagine this is a magical castle off in the distance. In fact, it's an old lighthouse known as "Tilly," built back in 1879. At the time, the coastal residents thought it was crazy to even attempt to build it, and outside laborers (who didn't know better) were brought in to do the job, at great risk. They were winched over to the barren rock from a ship, with frequent dunkings in the frigid sea. Because of its location and the harsh conditions, it eventually became the most expensive U.S. lighthouse to maintain, and was decommissioned in 1957.

It was sold in 1980 for $50,000 and turned into the Eternity at Sea Columbarium. Interested parties can have their cremated ashes placed inside the lighthouse in aluminum containers with prices ranging from $1,000 to $5,000 for the better "views." With a capacity of a few hundred thousand remains, this seems like a profitable business opportunity. The rock is an important nesting sanctuary for sea birds, so the ashes are boated out to the lighthouse just once a year.

John took this postcard perfect sunset shot...

Birdwatching was the highlight of the trip. Our room faced the ocean and Ecola Creek, so there was constant bathing, preening and just hanging out. And a feeding frenzy when the tide turned and brought in goodies from the sea. Fall migration is in full swing, and there were many brown pelicans and of course thousands of seagulls.
The weather was a typical mixed bag: a day of sun, a day of pea soup fog, and a day of rain.
What better activity on a rainy afternoon than a drive down the coast to visit the Tillamook Cheese Factory. On weekdays, the factory floor is hard at work.
And no is allowed to leave without buying an ice cream cone and a bag of cheese from the store. We had a great time-- more later on some of the other highlights.

A sense of humor?

Seattle DOT wasn't laughing when a smart alec hacked into their electronic sign system a few days ago. His Bart Simpson humor was soon posted on the West Seattle blog:

Well, life is a little too serious sometimes.

Wilderness baby

Here's some cute pictures Amanda sent from a hike they took last weekend in the North Cascades. Looks like Nova has picked out a Christmas tree!
I love Nova's colorful outfit, and the serious look on Roger's face...

Red roses in the rain

Here's a pretty little poem-

Dew Drops

Our garden in the morning
Is a display of precious gems;
One can see the roses holding
Shining crystals, jewels hidden
By the fleeing night,
Between red folds of velvet.

By Mildred Elliott