Shine on

Oh, Shine on, shine on, harvest moon

Up in the sky;

I ain't had no lovin'

Since April, January, June or July.

 

That sweet old song was written in 1908 by the husband and wife team Nora Bayes and Jack Norworth of the Ziegfeld Follies.  It was popular right from the start.

The full Harvest Moon is on the rise, and for three days in a row a glowing full moon will appear on the horizon just after sunset and fill the evening sky with an unusual amount of light.  Because of its striking orange tinge and early rise, the Harvest Moon looks larger than a regular full moon-- just an optical illusion. 

The moon usually rises 50 minutes later each successive night, but at this time in Northern Hemisphere the moon rises about half an hour later each night.  Before electricity, this meant more light for farmers to bring in their crops so the moon that falls closest to the autumnal equinox was traditionally called the Harvest Moon.

A 1902 study in the United States found that most young children weren't sure what the moon was made of, but cheese was a common explanation.

Hey, diddle diddle.  Nova's favorite nursery rhyme.

Edwin Blashfield

Sprinkling Moon Dust on the Universe

A nice bowl of harvest soup tonight?

Gojyo Chan

Vintage Moon

Our nurse is now official

A big pat on the back for Amanda-- she passed her Washington State LPN test with flying colors. She was worried because the computerized test stopped after only 86 questions, and this means just two things:  she did really well, or really badly.  Of course the poor test taker assumes they failed when they get cut off short like that.  But she had answered 95% of the questions correctly and passing was already a done deal. Way to go!

3,323 minutes of summer

A local weather geek calculated that Seattle had 3,323 minutes of "summer" this year, by counting the minutes the temperature was above 80 degrees.  Once August arrived, it was the nicest summer anyone can remember.

 We know it can't last, but it feels like these beautiful days will go on forever...

Blue Willow

Looking at the design on a blue willow plate is one of my first memories, and maybe that's why I've always loved the pattern. Our Grandma Anna used her blue willow set for Sunday dinners in Quakertown, Pennsylvania.

I'm sure she cooked other things, but I remember eating roast chicken with peas and spaetzle. She raised the chickens on their farm, then grandpa carved at the table and doled it out. Sometimes there was a small glass of cold tomato juice for everyone first, and I thought that was delicious and special because in those days, people usually just sat down and tucked into the main course.

Her set of dishes is gone except for a few cups and plates I've managed to save over the years. They have crisscrossed the country many times, and when I emptied the cupboards out last weekend I had the chance to look at them again. You'd think a teacup stamped "Made in Occupied Japan" would be valuable, but I found many others like it on Ebay offered for a just few dollars.

The Japanese must have exported thousands of cheap blue willow dishes to America in the late 1940's. My cup is priceless because I watched Grandpa Herman drink coffee out of it 60 years ago. He was always nice, but his reserve and German accent made us a bit in awe of him.

Herman, Anna and great-grandmother

Compared to frantic pace of life now, it's hard to imagine how quiet rural Pennsylvania was in the early 1950's.  Life was slow and Sunday dinner was a long, drawn-out affair.  There were no outside distractions at the table. Manners were nice. Adults ate slowly and talked and talked, while children sat and listened, unless someone spoke to them first. I can never remember kids being the center of attention at a meal. I suppose this sounds strict and repressed, but everyone was happy and relaxed.

In those days children didn't jump up and leave the table without permission.  After a while someone might notice you were done eating, and then say you could now ask to be excused.  Being a piggy child when it came to yummy food, I probably gobbled up my dinner and then had nothing to do except look at the imaginary world on the plate.  I'd make up stories in my head about the oriental people, the birds and the boat.  I guess it didn't take much to keep us amused, if a plate was that fascinating.

One other thing I noticed about these old dishes that speaks volumes about how we eat now.  They are small.  Before everyone drank out of mugs, the cups were tiny and the dinner plates about the size of the salad plates I use now.  One farm-raised chicken fed 4 adults and 3 hungry kids. You didn't get all you could eat, but you always got enough. 

September 25

Today is a special day to remember a special horse.

And beautiful Sizzle will always be in our hearts...

February 2010

59 grimy teacups later

Tchotchkie:  Noun. A knick-knack, collectible, trinket, etc. A small cheap object used as a decoration.

Note from the Urban Dictionary. "Tchotchkies can be pretty, sentimental, or even occasionally useful, though it usually breaks easily if useful. If you are having trouble identifying tchotchke, just look around your house or someone else's and whatever you see that a thief wouldn't steal is probably a tchotchke."

Before

It was one of those snowballing home projects that consumes the entire weekend.  It all started Friday night when I was putting a casserole dish away and the bottom shelf collapsed. Well, no big deal. The flimsy plastic shelf bracket was cracked and John said he could make a trip to Home Depot on Saturday morning and have it fixed in no time.  And he did.

When that was done, I told my handyman he might as well take a look at the upper brackets. The shelves were sagging in the middle from holding up 80 pounds of plates for the last 20 years. (At least that's what I thought.)  After inspection, the handyman said they were sagging because most of the plastic brackets had already broken off, and we were in danger of being buried under an avalanche of dishes. That meant another trip to Home Depot for more brackets. And on Sunday morning (my job) EVERYTHING had to come out. 

Yes, you know my weakness is collecting blue and white dishes. But as I trudged back and forth to the dining room with stuff I hadn't touched for years, I had time to wonder how one person could squirrel away so much in such a small space. What if we had a big kitchen?

The dishwasher ran and ran and ran. Everything was coated with that distinctive grimy film that grows like moss on unused dishes.

The handyman asked why we had 59 teacups "displayed" in the cupboard?  He diplomatically suggested that some could be stored downstairs in boxes, and if the Queen and her entourage ever arrived for tea, we could bring them out then.

On Sunday morning I sorted:  stuff to keep upstairs, stuff to keep downstairs, stuff to give Amanda, stuff for the Goodwill.   

After

And just looking at these neat shelves filled with useful, clean dishes lowers my blood pressure.  A good weekend's work.

Goodbye, summer

Ireland, Francis S. Walker

Today is the first day of fall in the Northern Hemisphere, and the sun is now directly above the Earth's equator.  Day and night are about the same length on the autumn and spring equinoxes, which is how the days got their name — it means "equal night" in Latin.  In the Southern Hemisphere, today marks the vernal equinox, the first day of spring.

This extreme dry spell continues, and a stretch of no rain in September is very unusual, especially followed by an August that was the driest on record in Seattle.  But it finally feels like fall this morning, cool and cloudy a slight chance of showers.  Now everyone is wondering, what will winter bring after such a strange summer?

Amanda takes her Washington state LPN certification test on Monday-- wish her luck!  She's doing well and we're all excited entering the final days of baby countdown. 

Cognac Bisquit

Cognac Bisquit is one of Alphonse Mucha's most famous advertisements.  This framed print was a surprise that showed up on the front porch yesterday.  John found it on the fun-to-browse llusions Gallery website.

I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to French, and I always thought the "bisquit" in this ad referred to some sort of cookie or wafer.   But Bisquit is a brand of cognac founded by Alexandre Bisquit in 1819, of the house of Bisquit, with its home at the Château de Lignères by the banks of the Charente River.

The Bisquit family had a long tradition of making cognac until the house was sold to Pernod in 1966. It is said to have been the favorite cognac of Winston Churchill and King George IV, and they should know good brandy.  The brand was sold again in 2009 to the South African group Distell. 

 

This is the original advertisement with the text.  Mucha said that art existed only to communicate a spiritual message, and he was frustrated by the fame he gained through commercial art like this.

Although John would make the case that paintings of beautiful young women in flowing robes surrounded by lush flowers and holding glasses of wine have a "spiritual" aspect.

Vertigo

Mission San Juan Bautista, Hollister

In my opinion, the chief requisite for an actor is the ability to do nothing well, which is by no means as easy as it sounds. He should be willing to be utilized and wholly integrated into the picture by the director and the camera. He must allow the camera to determine the proper emphasis and the most effective dramatic highlights.

Alfred Hitchcock, a comment on acting

This year Sight and Sound magazine named Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo the best film of all time.  The film got mixed reviews when it was released in 1958, but ever since has been attracting scholarly attention and is now considered the classic Hitchcock film and the defining work of his career.

I enjoy the movie reviews in the New Yorker magazine, and they're entertaining even when they leave you with no desire to see the actual movie, which is often the case.  But along with the current releases, there's usually a restored classic showing somewhere in the Big Apple, and a clever critic writes a review that makes you want to see it again. Or maybe for the first time. It helps me keep the Netflix queue filled with things we can look forward to watching-- that is, when the exasperating Neflix finally gets around to sending them out.

Mission Dolores, San Francisco

Vertigo is intriguing on many levels, but worth watching for wonderful 1950's San Francisco settings alone, in particular the missions, museums and parks.  Oh, those where the happy days when you could pull up to the curb and park anywhere in the city. When a "fashion illustrator" could afford a big apartment with an expansive view of Telegraph Hill. When you had the country road to yourself driving up to Muir Woods or down the coast to Mission San Juan Bautista.

The old mission locations in San Francisco and Hollister are central to the plot. Now they are all polished up, but seeing them looking so rustic in the 1950's was my favorite part of the movie.  Once upon a time, John and I traversed the state of California on a mission to visit all twenty-one historic missions.  One of our happiest travel memories. 

Kin Novak and Jimmy Stewart, Vertigo trailer

Not a bad day's work

All these Roma tomatoes from one little potted plant...

Dried in the oven while I made a batch of tomato-pear and apple-walnut chutney.  And finally...dinner!

Sweet September days

"Hauling out"

These beautiful September days are busy from early morning until our early bedtime.  In fact, I've been asleep before John lately, and I'm not the one who has to drag out of bed at 4:40 am.  Although my feet usually hit the floor shortly after he leaves. After coffee, of course. This morning I'm making a pot of tomato-pear chutney and keeping an eye on some oven-dried tomatoes.  Which is why I'm late to my computer-- not to mention the amusing distraction of political news on the Today Show.

The record high temperature for today in Seattle is 85, and we might break that.  No rain in sight, and smoke from the Wenatchee wildfires is still drifting over the Cascades causing problems with air quality. 

It's the best season to ride, and it's been years since my friend Dolly and I hauled out in her trailer. We loaded up and drove Skeeter and Spanky a few miles yesterday to ride a section of the Snoqualmie Trail near Fall City, a place we went often when I still had Sizzle.  I didn't take any "on the trail" pictures because Skeeter is only 4 years old and, well-- I had to pay attention to my riding.  But the horses were well-behaved and we had an uneventful ride, which is the very best kind. Just two old friends chatting with the autumn trail all to themselves.

How we spent Sunday afternoon

 "By doing just a little every day, 

I can gradually let the task completely overwhelm me."
-  Ashleigh Brilliant

We woke up Sunday to yet another beautiful morning, ate blueberry pancakes and slowly went to work. John painted away at the garage doors and I got out the Hori Hori knife. There finally comes a late September day when the dead lily stalks, the flopping daisies, the crocosima, the iris and the brown peonies are cut down to the ground and thrown in the overflowing compost bin.  Then the gardener sees an ugly tangle of weeds and mess that the overgrown foliage covered up all summer. 

Nothing is more exasperating than weedy grass growing up through chopped off stalks, especially iris, and especially when the root ball is hard as cement.  When all is said and done, the only way to get weeds out of an old clump is to dig it up and pull it apart. The dark side of gardening.

These Shasta daisies were hogging up half a bed anyway and needed to be divided. As you know, it has only rained 1/100th of an inch since July, so as far down as I could dig the soil was dry as dust.  I managed to pry out the clump bit by bit, hack it apart, and before I knew it there were enough new starts to replant a half acre with daisies.  I put some in a garbage bag for our neighbor, and planted the rest here and there.

Which pretty much guarantees (providing I can still pick up a shovel) that I'll be doing the same September chore in multiple locations a few years from now. I guess that's called job security.

Nova goes to the fair

Here's some cute pictures that Amanda sent from the Okanogan County Fair last week.

 

Lederhosen instead of pink shorts, and this would be Heidi.

Looks like our granddaughter picked the racehorse.

Starwort

Asters are named after the Latin word for star, but the name aster also goes back to the Golden Age of Greek mythology.  Astraea was the goddess of innocence who lived on earth before evil and hardship arrived. When people became horrible and sinful, she fled earth and turned into the constellation Virgo.

Zeus was so angry he created a flood that covered the entire earth, except for the peak of Mt. Parnassus.  (This is sounding familiar.) As the last few people wandered around in the mud, Astraea created starlight to guide them and her falling tears changed into star-shaped flowers, or starworts.

Astraea

There are at least 250 species of aster worldwide.  Some are just seven foot high weeds, but nursery varieties like the China Aster are fancy and picky.  I've tried planting these over the years because they make beautiful cut flowers, but they never last more than one summer.

China aster

We've have a clump common blue asters growing under the plum tree for as long as I can remember.  The plant is tough and scrubby looking all summer (ugly, really) but it needs hardly any water.  Then the flowers are pretty for a week in September-- one of the last things to bloom in profusion.

Days of our lives

 What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Philip Larkin

I'm canning fruit chutney this morning, a nice activity that doesn't require either a priest or a doctor.  Yesterday I drove all the way out to Snoqualmie to ride, but Skeeter and Spanky were busy getting new shoes. That was OK, it was a beautiful day and I just hung out for a bit talking to the farrier about his theories on how to make horses behave.

Skeeter

I took pictures of Mt. Si from the barn, and that haze is smoke from the dozens of fires burning near Wenatchee, over a hundred miles away.

Wildfires are burning all over the West, but I can't remember a time when there were so many at once in Eastern Washington. Easterly winds are bringing the smoke through the Columbia Gorge and gaps in the Cascades, like Snoqualmie Pass over to the right of Mt. Si. Yesterday dispatchers at 911 centers were inundated with false fire reports from smoke east of the mountains.  The sunrises and sunsets are spooky red.

The town where Tom and Amanda live isn't threatened by fire, but anxiety is high for some of their friends who live in more remote areas. The fire crews are stretched thin by the large number of fires.  Our warm and dry weather forecast continues into the foreseeable future.