Take that, plum tree

Before

The Martha Stewart magazine had an article last year about pruning fruit trees. It showed off her "heritage" apple orchard being meticulously pruned, twig by twig. Of course she wasn't out there on a ladder in February-- Martha hires expert tree arborists, although she probably goes out to check their work afterwards.

Pruning fruit trees is both physically hard and mentally challenging, unlike most garden chores that are either one or the other. No wonder people put it off. But even the "dwarf" fruit varieties get tangled and too tall without annual pruning. I suppose many a limb has been broken (human, that is) reaching out on a ladder for that last delicious-looking plum.

John does not get involved in pruning our plum tree unless I ask him to whack off something large with his chainsaw, which he seems to enjoy. And if you look closely at the picture above, you can see the top was sliced off once as a last resort after several years of neglect. I don't recommend it. Cutting off the top removes all the mature "fruiting" branches and the tree sends up hundreds of useless shoots. But after a couple of long years and more restrained thinning, there may finally be plums again.

After

There are articles, videos and entire books on the subject of fruit tree pruning. I think it appeals to fussy gardeners which I am not, being more of the "amputate and just get it over with" pruning personality. But after many years of butchery, I've learned to slow down and do a more thoughtful job on our apple and plum.

Sunday was overcast and cold but dry, and I got the job done in a couple of hours. I left the prunings in a big messy pile for the ground birds to enjoy. Chopping them up is a chore for another day.

So if we're lucky to get warm weather this spring, no aphids and enough pollinators, there might be nice plums to look forward to in September:

Which seems like a lifetime away...

A unique supermarket

When we stay in Twisp, we find ourselves shopping at Hank's Harvest Foods at least once a day. Hank's is a family owned grocery store, and Hank has been a pillar of the community since 1975. For the locals it's the place to buy food, greet friends and gossip about the latest valley news. And Hank's provides a good service too, since the next nearest large grocery store is 45 minutes away on the other side of the Loup Loup mountain pass. Hank's has reasonable prices and a nice wine selection. Bulk cheese and house-made sausage is especially cheap; a good thing for getting through a cold winter. And the store is scattered with odd things like tools, cheap toys and lawn ornaments.

But! Glance up up while shopping, and you'll see things you wouldn't find in a Seattle grocery store. Mr. Hank is a big game hunter, and the store is bristling with mounted heads and stuffed animals he's brought home from hunting expeditions around the world. Including two African lions. (Don't ask, don't tell.)

There are assorted horns and horned creature heads looming over the frozen food aisle:

A lion guards the Pepsi cooler:

And when all those eyes follow you around,
who needs store security?

Last weekend, we checked out the latest addition:

Just like being on the African savanna in the dog food section. Although by now we've been to Hank's so many times we feel almost like locals, and hardly notice the critters. Although it's hard to miss this one by the front doors.

And you can see why a lady with cranes in her cart wouldn't get a second look at Hank's.

Red-crowned Crane

At Marwell Zoo, England

The Red-crowned Crane is a rare bird, with an population of only 1500 in the wild. They spend summer nesting in Siberia, but winter in east Asian countries where their habitat of marshlands, rice fields and swamps is disappearing. They are magnificent birds and stand 60 inches tall. The crane is an important symbol in Asian culture because they symbolize longevity, good luck and fidelity. In Japan, they are said to live for 1000 years.

If you've been to our house, then you might remember this silk painting of Red-crowned Cranes that has been hanging over the fireplace since 1997:

I bought it at a tourist booth near the Great Wall of China, and carried it home rolled up in my suitcase. The frame shop down the street did a nice job mounting it for many more yen than I gave the artist at the souvenir stand.

And the big tin cranes came from another "exotic" place. They were rescued this weekend from a dusty, high shelf in the far corner of Hank's Supermarket in Twisp. They caught my eye and so I wheeled them to the check-stand with the bread and ice cream.

But there are much stranger sights at Hank's Supermarket than a lady with cranes in her shopping cart. (More on that later.)

Of course they belong outside. For our friends and family back East hit with another snow storm, I hate to tell you I was pruning roses yesterday. The gardens are waking up fast in our part of Seattle. And so I took the cranes out to see their new home. Soon they will have a nice patina of rust and look like antiques...if they don't fall apart first.

Meet "Jack" the cat

Jack loves attention. He doesn't mind at all when his nose is touched or his tail is (accidentally) pulled. He might walk away, but he never gets annoyed with Nova. What a nice cat.
And Jack and Roger like each other, too. But they both love Amanda. Who doesn't? Although Nova gets jealous when they pile up together on her Mommy's lap. "Up! Up! Up!"

If that's not love, what is?

"Cats are intended to teach us
that not everything in life has a purpose."
Garrison Keillor

Methow weekend

Methow River
Winthrop, WA

The Methow Valley is beautiful (almost) year round, but it's spectacular on a blue sky winter day when the sun shines on the river and the snowy hills. Sunday was one of those perfect days, and it made up for Monday and Tuesday which were both gray and cold.

But...who cares about the weather when you have family time together?

Busy downtown Winthrop.

A family moment on the Winthrop suspension bridge.

Grandpa, Nova and Roger on a walk to Twisp City Park.

Lots of playing and hanging out in the warm house...

But hard to say bye-bye, for now.

Deep reading

The Web is essentially a distraction machine.
Hyperlinks are meant to take you away from where you are.

John Miedema
Slow Reading

John Miedema makes an analogy between the slow food movement and slow reading. Just like cooking from scratch, it takes time and effort to read closely. It's the difference between a frozen pizza and one that takes an afternoon to make. Most of the things we value these days need to be done instantly. Of course cooking is just a chore, if you don't enjoy it on some basic level. Same for reading. There's a case made (and any high school teacher will agree) that endlessly skimming information and managing snippets of electronic conversation makes us dull and isolated, not smarter or socially adept.

Close reading means deliberately slowing your reading speed for enjoyment and comprehension. And there are books worth dawdling over. I was sorry to finish Jonathan Franzen's novel, Freedom. Not so much because a good story was finished, but because his writing and observations are so pleasurable and keen, even when painful to read.

Franzen's 2001 novel The Corrections was a book club favorite (yes, Oprah) but if you enjoyed it you have a reading treat ahead with Freedom. It's 562 pages long, so take your time.

Off for a ride

Here's a cute one to brighten up a Monday morning. Nova is trying out a new Valentine's tutu that Nana brought her from Seattle. Just the thing for a ride. We've had a good time in snowy eastern Washington-- the flu seems to have passed on (cross your fingers) and everyone is slowly on the mend.

Guinevere

Guinevere's Maying
John Collier
1900

Here's an old painting by the Victorian artist John Collier (1850-1934.) I started thinking about Guinevere while we were watching Vanessa Redgrave in the movie Letters to Juliet. It wasn't a bad movie really, just sort of unrealistic. The puppy characters had time and money to travel around Italy doing silly things. Except for Vanessa Redgrave of course, who was born in 1937 and played the grandma. She is still a lovely actress, but I kept remembering her and Richard Harris starring in the musical Camelot. She was 30 when she played Guinevere in that movie. And I was 16. (What happened?)

You forget Guinevere is a myth like Merlin and King Arthur, because she appears in so many stories, novels and poems. Guinevere has been portrayed as weak adulteress, a brave noblewoman and everything in between. In the 1967 Camelot movie, there was a hint of flower child and free love about Redgrave's Guinevere, and Harris played the indulgent husband who was easily fooled by his wife and friend Lancelot.

John Collier liked to paint women of legend and myth in a dramatic style. He was a good painter of horses, too. This Lady Godiva was risqué (even pornographic) in 1897, but since then she's been reproduced on thousands of cards and posters, so has lost most of the shock value. Now we just see a beautiful girl on a beautiful horse.

Lady Godiva
John Collier
1897

The primrose path

The name primrose comes from the Latin word primus, meaning early or first. Primroses are not related to the rosa family, even though the name suggests the first rose of the year. Poets write about primroses because they symbolize new life and reawakened love. They are mentioned many times by Shakespeare. In the language of flowers, the spring primrose is the flower of youth and grace. A "primrose path" means a pleasurable and ideal way to go.

In January, they're a cheerful sight outside Seattle grocery stores. Primroses are the first wave of nursery flowers to tempt shoppers on their way in. In a few weeks, the deluge of plant deliveries begins, but for now the choice is still nice and simple: which color is prettiest?

Although technically an perennial, I've never had luck getting them through the summer. But for about a dollar, they sure brighten up late winter.

The moon drops by

Yesterday was sunny for the first time in fourteen days. And then, wonder of wonders, after dinner the full moon came up just down the street. We stood on the deck and gawked at it, and John took this fine picture. Winter in Seattle helps you appreciate the simple things. Today, back to rain.

We are hoping to get over to the sunnier side of the state to visit Amanda, Tom and Nova soon. But unfortunately it's the flu that has dropped in on them. Amanda, how are you this morning?
Love, Mom

Foster Island

I took this picture on a nice summer day near the Museum of History and Industry. For many years, the museum has enjoyed their excellent location right on the shore of Lake Washington. The building is also a stone's throw from the 520 freeway, and that's the problem. I've mentioned that the museum will move in 2012 to make way for the floating bridge expansion project. Moving an entire museum is an enormous challenge, but also a fine opportunity to reinvent yourself in a new location. In the meantime, I can still take short walks before I head down to the museum basement.

Of course it isn't so beautiful on a cold January day, but still a good place for birdwatching on the Foster Island "floating" path, off in the distance in this photo I took yesterday.

And speaking of that, it was exciting to see the museum published my latest finding aid about Donald Foster's Seattle World's Fair collection. Foster is an old Seattle family, and Donald's dad donated land near Lake Washington to the city so the island was named in his honor. Son Donald was the Director of Exhibits during the 1962 fair. He went on to establish the landmark Foster/White Art Gallery, helping to revitalize Pioneer Square and becoming one of the first to recognize the great glass genius, Dale Chihuly.

Click here for a link to the finding aid.

The Barber of Seville

Gioachino Rossini
Composer
The Barber of Seville, or A Useless Precaution

The very first performance of the opera The Barber of Seville in 1816 was a sorry failure. Here's what Rossini said about his own premier:

The eventful first night arrived at last, and throughout my artistic career I have never experienced a more stormy evening. It was not the hostile party alone, but a whole series of mishaps which contributed to the great fiasco of my opera. The overture was completely drowned, as well as the first chorus, by the hissing and whistling of the public.

Along with the nasty audience, there was an accident with a trapdoor and a stray cat wandered on the stage. Oh well. By the second performance the opera was a roaring success, and to this day a staple of the opera repertoire. It's considered the great masterpiece of opera buffa (comedy within music) and is 5th on the list of the 20 most performed operas in America.

We saw it for the 4th time on Sunday, and that doesn't include MET films watched or the countless times John has listened to the music and read the libretto. Barber of Seville is one of his favorites, and these tickets were a Christmas present. He mentioned he would be happy to "step in" if the conductor was indisposed, since he knows it so well. You know John!
He looks like he's having a good time...
Our Seattle Opera House building, or McCaw Hall, has a long history. Back in 1881, a Pioneer Square saloonkeeper willed $20,000 for a "civic hall." The trust (back when money actually earned interest) eventually grew to $109,000, and in 1925 the city allocated another $900,000 to build a Civic Auditorium. Here's a 1929 view of the building from the MOHAI photo collection:

The Civic Auditorium was remodeled for the Seattle Worlds' Fair in 1962, when it became known as the Opera House. For the next 40 years, it stayed basically the same and the Opera House was the home of countless symphony, opera and ballet performances:

Then in 2003, the building was completely renovated and became the beautiful new McCaw Hall. Nothing really remains of the old auditorium except the footprint. Here's an exterior view:


The interior space has a spectacular five story lobby with floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Our seats are high up on the third tier, and there's a dizzy view to the main floor below:

We had a great afternoon on Sunday. The Barber of Seville is funny, entertaining and the music so familiar.

If you have 7 minutes to waste watching one of the best Loony Tunes ever made, here's the classic Rabbit of Seville:

Music, mice and poltergeists

"Vino"

This weekend our ex-cat Vino showed up on the doorstep, strolled in, looked around and demanded to go right back out again. Well, nothing strange about that. But how about this? At 2 am on Saturday, our little kitchen TV turned on all by itself. Honestly. We were jarred awake by a loud, twanging infomercial for country western CD's.

Earlier that evening while I was peacefully reading, a mouse ran out from underneath the bed and toward the kitchen. It's unnerving how they dash around in zig-zags and circles to get where they're going. Or, maybe they don't know where they're going? No wonder they terrify some people. Where is that worthless cat when you need him? Needless to say, I woke up Saturday morning all out of sorts. My nerves were "bad." A Victorian lady would have taken a tonic and stayed in bed.

Instead I went to QFC and bought (among other things) 5 yellow primroses. The morning was warm and cloudy and it felt good to get out of our haunted house during a 20 minute break in the rain. I finally took the Christmas lights off the arbor, pulled the holly out of the window box and planted primroses to keep away the spooks. Then it started to rain again. We had a record high of 55 degrees at SeaTac Airport.

On Saturday afternoon we went downtown and heard a (free) Chopin piano recital at Seattle Public Library. A free concert on a rainy January weekend in Seattle? It was PACKED. But it's hard to ruin a live Chopin performance, even with the auditorium door slamming, babies crying and cell phones going off.

But, the big, big event was Sunday afternoon. (And I don't mean the Seahawks game.) We went to The Barber of Seville at Seattle Opera. More on that later...

Strong, brown gods

Snoqualmie River near flood stage
1/14/11

I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
Is a strong, brown god; sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognized as a frontier;
Useful, but untrustworthy as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.

T.S. Eliot
Four Quartets, 1941

Eliot was was talking about the Mississippi River when he wrote that poem. Ancient English majors remember odd things from their hazy past, and sometimes I thought of those lines when I rode strong, brown Sizzle out to look at the flooded Snoqualmie. The river is just across the road from the barn where we boarded years ago. It was a thrilling sight from a car, and more so from horseback.

The Snoqualmie River is 45 miles long and starts in the Alpine Lake Wilderness. It drains most of the west Cascade Mountains and so floods several times a year when warm rain melts the snow pack in spring and fall. The controversial Snoqualmie Flood Reduction Project was completed in 2005 by the Army Corps of Engineers. They widened the river above the town of Snoqualmie to reduce flooding there, but the down river towns of Carnation, Fall City and Duvall still get hammered.

It was raining buckets yesterday, but I drove out I-90 and had lunch with an old friend in Snoqualmie. Then we stopped at Rosebud River Ranch where she still keeps her horse, and where we once passed many happy days. The horses were in their stalls, and there was that cozy feeling like nowhere else of boarders sitting around talking and trying to decide if it was worth the effort to tack up and ride on such a sloppy day. It was great to see friendly faces-- human and equine.

Rain and more rain

I like these cold, gray winter days.
Days like these let you savor a bad mood.
~Bill Watterson

This week Seattle had four inches of snow, followed by a toasty warm-up that left behind a slushy, sloppy city. But now just rain for the foreseeable future, up to 8 inches over the next few days. In the mountains it's been snowing and snowing. On the eastern side of the state, they're getting into cabin fever season.

Amanda said a tummy flu is being passed around between the babies (and parents) in their little community. She told me just the other morning how amazing that Nova hadn't caught "it" from her friends. Oops, that very afternoon "it" came on dramatically, as these things do. Fortunately, "it" runs its course quickly and Nova seemed to be doing fine yesterday. Hopefully Amanda and Tom aren't next in line.

Here's Nova taking an adorable nap in front of the fire.

Granny squares

There's a beautiful yarn store nearby, but I'm embarrassed to go in and ask them why my granny squares have round corners. I'd have to drag in my sad attempts made with Walmart yarn. There are some fine knitters and crocheters in the family, but they're too far away to pester. I've even watched YouTube video demonstrations, where a nice (but bossy) person whips out a few granny squares while explaining how easy they are. It's funny, because I can follow simple patterns for afghans and mufflers, but even the old Dummy book hasn't helped with granny squares. And there are hundreds of different kinds! It's some sort of mental defect. Or maybe subconsciously I don't want to make them.

I never crochet in the summer, but it passes the time with TV football. The little bursts of action followed by draggy periods when nothing happens and of course endless commercials. So all you have to do is glance up occasionally to see an entire game, if you want. I can make Nova a dolly blanket at the same time, which gives some sense of accomplishment. And Nova isn't picky about what Nana makes her (yet) although I think she prefers bright colors. She likes covering her dolls carefully and pushing them around in her stroller, although the next minute they get thrown out on their faces and something else gets a ride. It's adorable watching toddlers play.


She does endlessly cute things that a square granny could talk about all day-- like sharing her sippy cup with the Christmas tree ornaments:

Icons and Eye Candy

What does a handbag say about a woman's personality and the time she lived in? The Museum of History and Industry is running an exhibit called "Clutch It! The Purse and the Person." It displays over 3,000 purses which reveal daily life and society through this accessory. The collection of bags goes back a century, from Edwardian ladies to hippies and beyond to the superwomen of today. And there was the very same suede purse with fringe and beads I thought was so cool back in 1968!

To get to the library on the lower museum level, a visitor passes through the "Hall of Icon's and Eye Candy." Most of the objects and signs are instantly recognizable if you've lived in the Northwest:

Remember the "Wild Ranier" beer advertisements?
How about the sign from behind the counter of the campy and beloved "Dog House" Restaurant?
If you've ever seen a Northwest parade, you'll recognize Lincoln's Toe Truck...
And the "Kidd Valley Burger Babe" sign, gazed at by untold numbers of teenage boys.

The clever, racy sayings advertising the Lusty Lady peep-shows were a downtown icon for decades. When the Lusty Lady finally closed, the museum scored their sign and I got a good laugh when I walked by this the other day. You have to love historians with a sense of humor!