Gloom

The garden is at a nice peak right now with the alliums and big iris blooming.  I cut some for the house like I always do and they give off the most amazing bursts of fragrance at night.

This morning is cold and gloomy which seems appropriate while a different cloud hangs over Seattle. It's impossible to come to terms with the senseless violence yesterday.

I'd spent the morning working in the garden and trying to ignore the helicopters and sirens (there are always sirens in the neighborhood!) So I was completely oblivious to what was taking place a few miles away.  We like to believe our corner of the world is safe and private but we're wrong about that-- there are no sanctuaries.

Remember the advice on "how to be perfect" yesterday morning?  When there's a shooting in the street, don't go near the windows.  Little did I know...

Globe Master Allium

Here's a sight to lift the heart.  The other morning two teenage raccoons were rolling and tumbling in the yard and I managed to snap a picture from the window before they ran away.

Innocent mischief

"How to be Perfect"

Get some sleep.
Eat an orange every morning.

Be friendly. It will help make you happy.
Hope for everything. Expect nothing.

Take care of things close to home first.
Straighten up your room before you save the world.
Then save the world.

Be nice to people before they have a chance to behave badly.

Don't stay angry about anything for more than a week, but don't
forget what made you angry.
Hold your anger out at arm's length and look at it, as if it were a glass ball.
Then add it to your glass
ball collection.

Wear comfortable shoes.

Do not spend too much time with large groups of people.
Plan your day so you never have to rush.

Show your appreciation to people who do things for you, even if
you have paid them, even if they do favors you don't want.

After dinner, wash the dishes.

Calm down.

Don't expect your children to love you, so they can, if they want to.

Don't be too self-critical or too self-congratulatory.

Don't think that progress exists. It doesn't.

Imagine what you would like to see happen, and then don't do
anything to make it impossible.

Forgive your country every once in a while. If that is not
possible, go to another one.

If you feel tired, rest.

Don't be depressed about growing older. It will make you feel
even older. Which is depressing.

Do one thing at a time.

If you burn your finger, put ice on it immediately. If you bang
your finger with a hammer, hold your hand in the air for 20
minutes. you will be surprised by the curative powers of ice and
gravity.

Do not inhale smoke.

Take a deep breath.

Do not smart off to a policeman.

Be good.

Be honest with yourself, diplomatic with others.

Do not go crazy a lot. It's a waste of time.

Drink plenty of water. When asked what you would like to
drink, say, "Water, please."

Take out the trash.

Love life.

Use exact change.

When there's shooting in the street, don't go near the window.


Excerpts from "How to be Perfect" by Ron Padgett
Courtesy of the Writer's Almanac
 

Weekend snapshots

Nova is practicing to be a big sister and I'm practicing to be a new Nana with Tonya's baby boy.  Although you can't see his face, trust me-- Kaio is darn cute. He's the son of Amanda's good friend.

We had fun on Saturday afternoon at the rodeo, mostly because it's such a treat to be together. Nova kept everyone entertained and seeing the world through three-year-old eyes makes you stop and think. Every word she hears, every answer she's given, every action she sees is stored away in her bright, fresh, impressionable mind.

I've always liked western rodeo, although parts were hard to watch.  Mostly I can appreciate the work training horses to do things against their nature: roping, backing up, chasing wild bulls, running around barrels.  Unlike our spoiled city horses, these animals worked hard for hours and I doubt there were many carrot treats afterwards.

In the bull-riding event, one of the enormous bulls refused to enter the narrow chute (who could blame him?) and seeing him thrash around was an ugly, dangerous sight. Then an old cowboy just rode up on his Quarter-horse and pulled him in with a rope tied to the saddle.   You have to admire the guts and strength it takes for a 1,000 pound horse to pull an extremely irritated 2,000 pound bull backwards.

John's rodeo action pictures are all good, like this one of the Ranch Bronco Riding event.  A regular untrained horse (not a "professional" bronc) is forced to go ballistic with a bucking strap and the cowboy is allowed to hold on any way he can.  Does that sound fair?

We had quieter entertainment on Sunday at the Shafer Museum in Winthrop. It's a wonderful place with old restored buildings to explore and displays of pioneer life.

Nova's favorite was the Methow Valley homesteader's cabin.  We told her four people lived in that little room all winter, and she thought that would be just fine. The door was just her size although dad had to seriously duck.

Here's Nova and her pretty mom-to-be...

A future rodeo queen...

Rodeo time

There are big rodeos out in the West, but many more small ones with a grassy hill for a grandstand where you hang out all afternoon watching the action with your cooler, blanket, snacks and friends.  This was the second time we went to the Methow Valley Memorial Day rodeo-- two years ago Nova was a little baby and we had to keep her from tumbling down the hill.  Yesterday she was running up and down the hill.  Not only that, Nova was IN the rodeo. More on that...

Along with the usual rodeo events like bronc "busting" (poor horses) there were kid activities like calf and sheep riding, a chicken "chase" where the lucky kid had to take a chicken home for "dinner." Only in eastern Washington.  Nova was in the 0-3 year old class, and she was the last little one to run across the entire length of the area.  From high above where we watched her run in her little pink hat, it was such an adorable sight it brought the house down.  We thought she would be frightened out here alone but when all was said and done she told us she was mad because she didn't "get one."  We told her, next year!

Then her dad entered her in the stick horse race where she had better luck.

 

Not the first place, BUT a beautiful rodeo queen gave her a blue ribbon to take home.

Hi, from the sunny side

Nova

A happening place

May

Just in case you've lost sleep wondering, things have been happening lately out in the miniature garden  :-)

April

Going, going, gone

3 weeks ago

1 week ago

Yesterday

It's a green jungle out there.   We had showers all week (record rainfall on Monday) and this morning "dawned" cold and gray again.  But things are looking up for the weekend in more ways than one.  Friday and Saturday should dry out and the jet stream moves this wet blanket south to California, where they really need the moisture.

You've probably noticed a sad lack of little Nova pictures lately on the blog. Stay tuned...soon we'll have some new ones from the dry side of the state.

A grim old fairy tale, by...

The Brothers Grimm

There was once a man who had seven sons, and still he had no daughter, however much he wished for one. At length his wife again gave him hope of a child, and when it came into the world it was a girl. 

The joy was great, but the child was sickly and small, and had to be privately baptized on account of its weakness.The father sent one of the boys in haste to the spring to fetch water for the baptism. The other six went with him, and as each of them wanted to be first to fill it, the jug fell into the well. There they stood and did not know what to do, and none of them dared to go home. 

 As they still did not return, the father grew impatient, and said, "They have certainly forgotten it for some game, the wicked boys!" He became afraid that the girl would have to die without being baptized, and in his anger cried, "I wish the boys were all turned into ravens." Hardly was the word spoken before he heard a whirring of wings over his head in the air, looked up and saw seven coal-black ravens flying away.

 The parents could not recall the curse, and however sad they were at the loss of their seven sons, they still to some extent comforted themselves with their dear little daughter, who soon grew strong and every day became more beautiful. 

For a long time she did not know that she had brothers, for her parents were careful not to mention them before her, but one day she accidentally heard some people saying of herself, "that the girl was certainly beautiful, but that in reality she was to blame for the misfortune which had befallen her seven brothers." 

Then she was much troubled, and went to her father and mother and asked if it was true that she had had brothers, and what had become of them? 

The parents now dared keep the secret no longer, but said that what had befallen her brothers was the will of Heaven, and that her birth had only been the innocent cause. But the maiden took it to heart daily, and thought she must deliver her brothers. She had no rest or peace until she set out secretly, and went forth into the wide world to trace out her brothers and set them free, let it cost what it might. 

She took nothing with her but a little ring belonging to her parents as a keepsake, a loaf of bread against hunger, a little pitcher of water against thirst, and a little chair as a provision against weariness.

And now she went continually onwards, far, far to the very end of the world. Then she came to the sun, but it was too hot and terrible, and devoured little children. Hastily she ran away, and ran to the moon, but it was far too cold, and also awful and malicious, and when it saw the child, it said, "I smell, I smell the flesh of men."

On this she ran swiftly away, and came to the stars, which were kind and good to her, and each of them sat on its own particular little chair. But the morning star arose, and gave her the drumstick of a chicken, and said, "If you thou hast not that drumstick thou canst not open the Glass mountain, and in the Glass mountain are thy brothers."


The maiden took the drumstick, wrapped it carefully in a cloth, and went onwards again until she came to the Glass mountain. The door was shut, and she thought she would take out the drumstick; but when she undid the cloth, it was empty, and she had lost the good star's present.

What was she now to do? She wished to rescue her brothers, and had no key to the Glass mountain. The good sister took a knife, cut off one of her little fingers (UGH!) put it in the door, and succeeded in opening it. When she had gone inside, a little dwarf came to meet her, who said, "My child, what are you looking for?" "I am looking for my brothers, the seven ravens," she replied.

The dwarf said, "The lord ravens are not at home, but if you will wait here until they come, step in." Thereupon the little dwarf carried the ravens' dinner in, on seven little plates, and in seven little glasses, and the little sister ate a morsel from each plate, and from each little glass she took a sip, but in the last little glass she dropped the ring which she had brought away with her.

Suddenly she heard a whirring of wings and a rushing through the air, and then the little dwarf said, "Now the lord ravens are flying home." Then they came, and wanted to eat and drink, and looked for their little plates and glasses. 
 

 Then said one after the other, "Who has eaten something from my plate? Who has drunk out of my little glass? It was a human mouth." 

 And when the seventh came to the bottom of the glass, the ring rolled against his mouth. Then he looked at it, and saw that it was a ring belonging to his father and mother, and said, "God grant that our sister may be here, and then we shall be free." 

 When the maiden, who was standing behind the door watching, heard that wish, she came forth, and on this all the ravens were restored to their human form again. And they embraced and kissed each other, and went joyfully home.

T.J.

Fresh mozzarella pizza

I can't really explain Trader Joe's cult-like following. Grocery shopping can be boring, so part of the attraction is the unusual (OK, weird) products they sometimes promote in their advertisement called the Fearless Flyer.  It isn't like the store has a huge selection, but you never know what you're going to find (or decide you want). And there's daily samples and those free mini cups of coffee. Trader Joe's is all about impulse shopping. Of course, your favorites can suddenly disappear from the shelves with no explanation.

For example, John considers himself a connoisseur of chutney, having been spoiled on my homemade varieties. He does not like store-bought chutney, but he still talks longingly about a particular Indian chutney we got at T.J. in the 1990's. I should have bought two cases before it went away forever.  The T.J. merchandising gimmick is to repackage food from all over the world under their own clever label. Other than country of origin, you don't know the product source. Short of going to India and tasting every chutney condiment, there's no hope of finding that particular one again.

Anyway! Here I am writing about another good thing I found in the store last week:  sliced fresh mozzarella cheese in a shrink-wrapped package.  If you've ever tried to cut up a gummy piece of soft cheese into even slices you'll appreciate this.  I make a no-guilt vegetarian pizza about once a month, and we like fresh mozzarella instead of the cheap, packaged, shredded kind. (Sorry, Kroger.)

This was the first pizza from my new oven and it turned out fine-- 375 convection bake for about 30 minutes. Letting it cool off on a rack seems to keep the bottom from getting soggy.

And the left-over sliced mozzarella made a nice tomato salad with Mexican-grown basil leaves from (you guessed it) Trader Joe's.

Green Land

Last week's nice weather was just a summer tease because it's turned wet and cold again in Seattle. The lilacs are so drenched they look ready to snap off.  June is just around the corner, and the weather gurus at NOAA are saying the early summer forecast shows "an above average change of cooler than normal temperatures." To be exact, just a 17 percent chance of a warmer than normal June.

So our sunny mid-May wasn't a sign of things to come, although the taste of nice weather spoiled us. But oh, everything is lush and green.  The big iris are ready to bloom on 3 foot stalks-- that is, when they finally get a little sun. And if the rain doesn't knock them down first.

The air is chilly with ocean breeze this morning and there's a monsoon feel about the drenching rain showers. This spring weather pattern is actually called the Pacific Coast Monsoon, and places like San Francisco and Seattle are notorious for the persistent June gloom.  Sometimes the clouds burn off by afternoon, but often not, and we walk around all day under a gray mist.

This makes the hosta plants very happy.

Photo - Puget Sound Clean Air Agency

Dream Land

Dream Love
A Rossetti poem illustration
by Emma Harrison, 1910

Very little is known about the artist Emma Harrison, including the exact dates of her birth and death. There are no portraits of her. She worked from about 1877-1925 and is remembered mostly as an illustrator of books of poems by Christina Rossetti, Tennyson and William Morris.  Her work has that highly collectible (and valuable) Pre-Raphaelite style.

Dream Land
by Christina Georgina Rossetti
 

Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmèd sleep:
Awake her not.
 
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.

She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.

Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.

Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land...

Rest, rest at the heart’s core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.

Dream Land

Poem illustration by Emma Harrison, 1910

Hot junk

If you like poking around antique and second-hand stores, then you know weathered "junk" is really in now.  The other day I saw a perfectly rusted tricycle that had been sitting outside for about 50 years and they wanted $90 for it.  It really had no function except to sit in another person's yard and artistically rust for 50 more years.  And rickety old wood furniture that once would have been chopped up for firewood is designer stuff.

Anyway, this chair with a planter built in the seat was a real find for $8 at the yard sale last week.  I think the only reason another sharp-eyed lady didn't snatch it up was the seat was covered with broken glass (that's the white stuff) which was somewhat of a deterrent, although not to me. I grabbed it and of course the people around me looked jealous. Oh, well. The cutthroat world of yard sales is not for the timid.

So I managed to get it in the back of the Honda with all my other loot without spilling the glass everywhere.  I pulled the crud out and lined the chicken wire with fresh sheet moss and potting soil, then squeezed some carpenter's glue in the wobbly joints to snug it up a bit. Planted with impatiens and lobeila for the summer, I think it looks just about perfect.  Maybe ferns and crocus for next spring if it doesn't fall to pieces over the winter?

Don't even try to put a price tag on that heirloom :-)

Peony time

Every year I cut some peonies and put them in the same green glass bowl on the coffee table. The other evening a sunset light hit them at the moment I happened to walk by. It was a photographer's dream light that only lasted about 30 seconds. If I don't say so myself, this is a lovely (and Photoshop untouched) composition. Almost like a painted Renaissance still life.  Or a Hallmark card. But it was just serendipity and a pretty good digital camera.

Peonies are wondrous old flowers, rich in history, legend and myth.  The Latin name Paeonia comes from Paeon, the "physician of the gods" in Greek mythology.  And here he is, doing something nasty to someone.

The peony is an important ingredient for Chinese medicine.  In Europe it was used as a remedy for lunacy, epilepsy and liver problems. In the 19th century, country folk in England made peony root beads for teething babies, and used it ward off evil spirits.  Peonies were one of the first flowers the Europeans brought to America.  Despite being used as medicine for thousands of years, today the peony is thought of as just an old-fashioned, homey, grandma-garden type of flower. 

The pronunciation of "peony"  is often mangled, maybe because of the double vowels. The correct pronunciation is "PEA-onie" but you sometimes hear people trying to say "PAY-onie."   In the old South it is simply called the "Piney," which sounds kind of sweet and simple.