Brisk

How about a day at the beach? Here's a video from the West Seattle blog.  This is just down the hill from us at Alki yesterday.  It sure isn't San Diego!  A brisk north wind and below freezing temperatures.

When the snow is on the pumpkin

It doesn't snow often in Seattle (some winters, not at all) so when it does we run outside and take pictures of our decks and barbecue grills and text them the local TV stations.

Many "snow pictures" of this same old yard have been posted on the blog over the years, so I'll try not to be repetitive.  But there is simple joy in the brief transformation of familiar things.

We've had weather whiplash this week.  On Thanksgiving Eve, it was 60 degrees ("creepy warm" according to my brother Dave.)

The juicy Pineapple Express dumped inches of tropical rain, then yesterday afternoon the temperature suddenly dropped 20 degrees in a few hours. An Arctic front arrived via Canada, and it will be extremely cold and dry for the next few days, along with a bitter wind.  This morning's light snow was just remnants of tropical moisture left in the atmosphere.

From our local weather guru, Cliff Mass:

In one day, Northwest residents will go from breathing air that been over Hawaii and vicinity to air that has passed over the Canadian Arctic, and will do so without having to move an inch.  Hawaii and the Arctic will come to them. Far better than a Rick Steves travel  video...you will be breathing the real thing! 

I was planning to go the gym this morning and start to work off three days of eating. However,  Mr. Avalon is not allowed to go out in the snow.  A perfect excuse to stay home.  It's also Changing of the Season Day, and fall decorations come down and the Christmas dishes get lugged up from the laundry room closet.

Seven minute escape

Here's an escape from Black Friday, dirty dishes and leftover turkey. This video from Scott Sistek's excellent weather blog films the ice caves on Oregon's Mt. Hood, the largest glacier cave system in the lower 48.

(This cave does enjoy talking on about herself, but then-- she is quite beautiful and eloquent.) 

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving rush

The travel rush is on this morning, and with bad weather across the country it looks like a doozy shaping up.  I wish I could wave a wand and magically transport our far-flung family to the Thanksgiving dinner table.  John would pour you a good glass of wine, and there would be plenty of turkey and trimmings. 

Amanda said they woke up to a winter wonderland in the Methow Valley this morning, and school is cancelled for Nova and Maya.  It's soggy and warm over here in Seattle, and Thanksgiving day might be one of the wettest on record. By Saturday, it will be 30 degrees cooler with a possibility of snow showers. We'll miss the family of course, but I'm glad none of us are traveling back and forth over the mountains this weekend.  I don't plan to drive any farther than Safeway today.

Most of the stores are open tomorrow and Christmas is in full swing. Don't look for any last minute fall decorations for your Thanksgiving table.  This is a sad trend in our country. I feel for the cook who stays home with the turkey while the family shops for Black Thursday bargains.  Or maybe they all eat dinner together at the Mall.  

Currier and Ives might have been the Thomas Kincade of the 19th century, but still-- a nice fantasy.

 

 Currier and Ives

Now that's bread

Our friend Julie was in the neighborhood on Saturday morning and she dropped by with this oven-warm, absolutely perfect loaf.  Yes, it really is home-baked and she claims she could teach me to make bread like this in "a few minutes." Which sounds a bit optimistic, but John would sure be happy if that was true.

Perfect crust, perfect texture-- delicious.  Of course the minute she left, we sliced some and ate it standing up in the kitchen, spread with butter.

But I know how to make a treasure last around here.  Two hunks went into the freezer to warm up later (maybe Thanksgiving) and the last piece turned into this Sunday morning French toast breakfast. 

Thank you, Julie!

First snow

Amanda sent this picture of Nova and Maya out in their backyard, checking out the first winter snow. Parts of Eastern Washington and the Cascade mountains got a nice dumping of snow this weekend, but just rain down here in the lowlands.  Thanksgiving week looks mostly wet, but no travel plans for us this year, which feels kind of nice.  The "Private Selection" turkey is defrosting in the fridge. 

This little poem about grandchildren was posted on the Writer's Almanac website a few weeks ago.  Sweet and true...if only we could pause the clock now and then.

Grandchildren
by Olivia Stiffler

They disappear with friends
near age 11. We lose them
to baseball and tennis, garage
bands, slumber parties, stages
where they rehearse for the future,
ripen in a tangle of love knots.
With our artificial knees and hips
we move into the back seats
of their lives, obscure as dust
behind our wrinkles, and sigh
as we add the loss of them
to our growing list of the missing.

Sometimes they come back,
carting memories of sugar cookies
and sandy beaches, memories of how
we sided with them in their wars
with parents, sided with them
even as they slid out of our laps
into the arms of others.

Sometimes they come back
and hold onto our hands
as if they were the thin strings
of helium balloons
about to drift off.

The ukulele concert

Dear Feathers and Flowers followers,
You are first to view my ukulele music video, right before it goes viral on YouTube.
Ha! ha!

But seriously, learning to play is up there on the long list of things I'm thankful for this season. You might remember my music education started at ground zero 18 months ago, and John will tell you there's been a great deal of diligent, painful, slow, plinking practice going on in this house. And some talk of "just giving up."  (But I didn't.)

For Dad in Colorado, learning "Ode to Joy" was just for you.
Love, Suzy

Lights and mirrors

I heard on the news today that Washington now leads the nation in high property crime rates, a depressing ranking that no state wants.  Property crime in in other parts of the country has dropped, but Washington jumped to first in 2013, thanks to a 6 percent increase in car prowls and thefts.

The Honda Accord and the Subaru Legacy are the most frequently stolen cars in Seattle.  Thankfully, the Toyota Avalon seems to be under the radar, which just goes to show that thieves have no class.

What can a person do, besides paying for insurance and a home alarm system?  Well, I have little decorative mirrors strategically placed on the porch and deck for "protection."  The idea being that evil things approaching will see their own reflection and get scared off.  At the very least, they'll have to take a look at themselves caught in the act.


More than anything, lights cheer up our dark neighborhoods this time of year. Even though I'm getting a little old for climbing on high ladders,  I put the lights up on the back arbor as usual.  They look pretty from the sidewalk, and we can see them from the kitchen table while we're eating our early supper. I usually leave them up until around Ground Hog Day, when the early evening light finally returns.

Menu planning

1955 food ad

Back then, turkey was an expensive holiday meal. According to the inflation calculator, one dollar in 1955 would be worth $4.42 in 2014.

What on earth is a "broiler turkey?" They don't list the price in this ad for the "Fresh Killed White Rock Native Turkey."  Like a free range "heritage" bird from Metropolitan Market now,  if you have to ask, you can't afford it.

I'll be getting our turkey at QFC (Kroger) this weekend, where the special is 69 cents a pound with a $30 purchase.  That's a bargain, compared to 1955.  On the other hand, since we eat turkey all year round, I kind of miss that special anticipation of a real turkey dinner.  Also the leftover sandwiches were a treat back in the days before turkey lunch meat was invented.  Once again, I date myself.

Here's some retro inspiration to help with your recipe planning!

Wall of snow coming

 Oh, oh...

I got distracted this morning watching the early news and imagining what 7 feet of snow would be like.

It's been nice here. On Monday, Dolly and I even got out in the woods for a short ride.  North Bend is usually dripping wet in mid-November.  I like winter trail riding when we can, because the tangle of undergrowth has finally died back.  On the wet slopes of the Cascade mountains,  the woods can feel a bit claustrophobic.  Of course, nothing like a wall of snow!

That's me in front riding Belle, and Dolly took this picture on Spanky.  Our weather has been cold, sunny, dry and beautiful this week.  Of course it's still early in the season, but skiers are getting antsy and Paradise Lodge at Mt. Rainier looks like this.

I've posted Don Jenson's time-lapse photography before on the blog.  In his new one called "Darkness" he films the night sky during the first cold snap. Watching those beautiful spinning stars sure puts things into perspective.


Darkness from donald jensen on Vimeo.

Email

Once upon a time people wrote letters, and lots of them-- to parents, relatives, friends, lovers. Now the typical home receives a personal letter about every seven weeks, according to the annual survey done by the post office. This of course is driven by the Internet as the preferred method of communication.

The "art" of letter writing was once taught in schools, and correspondence was the most important medium of communication in society.  Not just personal news, but ideas and culture. Letters were shared and read aloud.  And saved. This is a great loss to what future generations will know about us. (Maybe.)  And poor historians won't have the sensory experience and pleasure of dealing with old documents. Spoken like a librarian.

When Amanda was in the Peace Corps, we wrote her every week and she sent us fascinating, long letters about Grenada.  I saved all of these for Nova and Maya, and somewhere in the dusty recess of a closet there are bundles of my personal letters from the 1970's-- a time of passionate young angst!  Ha! Also some rather embarrassing handwritten diaries and poetry journals.

After keeping the stuff all this time, I'll leave it to others to throw out.  But there is an intimacy when we go to the attic to read grandma's dusty letters. Scrolling through "sent" email files could never replace it.

Still, I love email because it's the most thoughtful, letter-like medium left for sharing news.  I always feel compelled to reply to text messages immediately (why is that?) but after dinner I often think, "Oh yes, I need to sit down and answer some emails now."  Kind of like the old days.

Homemade Bread Day

I noticed something when I woke up today:  People of a certain age have more aches and pains in a cold, damp climate.  Oh well, at least I woke up!  There's always something to be thankful for, even on a November Monday morning.

Like excellent bread, for instance. Today is Homemade Bread Day. And won't you be glad when this ridiculous gluten-free fad fades away?  People have been eating bread for a long time, and estimates date the origin of bread back to 10,000 B.C.

We had bread with just about every meal when I was growing up.  Usually a stack of white slices with margarine, or butter if we were lucky.  Bread had multiple functions at the dinner table-- sopping up gravy and spaghetti sauce, or "filler" if you were still hungry at the end of the meal. There were rarely any left-overs at our house.

Everyone has childhood bread memories.  John says the their family stopped at the bakery outlet after church and bought enough loaves to feed an Italian family of six for a week. That's a lot of bread. My mother made simple, cake-like white bread. It looked just like this, and it was wonderful buttered hot and dunked in homemade soup.

My 1967 Betty Crocker Cookbook has several variations of plain white bread recipes.  It was no big deal. Girls learned to make bread in Home Ec class, although I don't remember anyone baking crusty "specialty" bread at home back then. You could always buy a loaf of "French" or "Vienna" bread at the grocery store for under a dollar.  Bread machines were popular once, but people are too busy now for even that. 

Baking bread is always time well-spent.

Home, sweet (cold) home

So I'm looking out the window at a frozen garden, and it's hard to believe we were strolling around Balboa Park yesterday afternoon where it was a balmy 70 degrees.  We haven't been to that lovely park for years and it's just as pretty as ever, especially my favorite place-- the big old wooden botanical conservatory.

After that, we spent the evening in San Diego Old Town, eating Mexican food at a tourist trap restaurant with lots of other trapped tourists.  All fun. Then up at 4:30 am for an early flight home.

So, it was quite a shock to step off the airplane into real winter today. On the bright side, at least it isn't raining!  And the sky is perfectly clear in Seattle, but it's very cold. 

When we left the fig tree was green, now a mess with black rotting leaves ready to fall off.  Much raking ahead. Ditto the grape vine, ditto the frozen geraniums.  Oh well, at least I had the foresight to bring in the house plants and leave the furnace on low, or we would be coming home to frozen pipes.

However, this plant camper, who thrived on the deck all summer, was unhappy with the cold and dry indoor arrangements. Oh well.

We had a wonderful little break from reality, but it feels good to be home.  Our house is small, but after a week of motel rooms, it feels almost palatial.
And here come the holidays.

All is calm

It's a peaceful night at the Lido Palms Motel.  The desert wind has finally died down, the pools are warm and we have some Chinese takeout in the fridge for dinner.  Each day we get lazier and lazier.  We thought of "doing something" ambitious today, but lunch in Palm Springs (and light shopping) was it.

Well, tomorrow back to the big city of San Diego. A fast trek on the freeways instead of that unanticipated tour of the back end of California. Ha ha. We have one night in Old Town, then an early flight to Seattle on Saturday. All good things come to an end, but for now-- there's still this.

Buenas noches.

Earthquakes and palm trees

Coachella Valley

The San Andreas fault system runs right down the middle of the valley but no one seems too worried about it.  Hey, this is California. The Big One is inevitable, but when? It will bring devastation within 50-100 miles of the zone, especially urban areas like Palm Springs.

On the bright geological side, the fissures caused by the faults give underground water an easy route to the surface and are responsible for the many astonishing desert palm oases found along the east side of the Coachella Valley.

You can stand directly over the fault line at Thousand Palms Canyon, just south of Desert Hot Springs in the Coachella Valley Preserve.  And here's John, doing just that.  Another day of vacation, another walk through a palm oasis.  I just can't get enough of these lovely, magical places. 

The town of Desert Hot Springs isn't known for high culture, dining, shopping or recreation. Go to Palm Springs for that.  It's all about the healthful mineral water here, and that's fine with us.

But there is one very intriguing museum we always visit in Desert Hot Springs, and today we were the first tour of the morning so it turned out to be private.  I brashly declared myself to be an archivist, and the nice gentleman let us see the private upper rooms of the pueblo, closed to the general public.

John took these nice pictures. You can read about Cabot by clicking this link:  Cabot's Pueblo. 
 

Desert mornings

We were happy to see Mr. Road Runner is still in residence here at the Lido Palms Motel in Desert Hot Springs.  If fact, when we checked in yesterday afternoon, he came to the door begging for a handout.

FYI, Road Runners don't like popcorn and crackers; they eat meat.  You will not see one lizard in his pool courtyard, no sir.

He's as tame as a pet chicken, and seemed to enjoy his photo close-up this morning.  The desert birds, being smart creatures, wake up with the sun, and that's about 6:30 am this time of year.

And what a sun!  Not like our pallid, weak, Seattle morning light in November. The sun lights the tops of the trees first, where many little birds roost at night. This makes excellent sense, and everyone gets up at exactly the same time to make a racket.

We were up way before the sun this morning (don't ask.)  I will only say we took a rather long,  unintentional "detour" on the back roads from San Diego to Palm Springs, and hit the sack early last night. 

Forget Hollywood celebrities, the palm trees are the stars of Palm Springs.  We went to Indian Canyon today and had a nice hike.  Indian Canyon is on the outskirts of Palm Springs on reservation lands. The Indians do charge $9 per person, but I think it's worth it. Indian Canyon has an incredibly unique topography with plants, streams, springs and  rock formations. The trails are well-maintained and interesting.

You almost feel like you're walking around in a botanical garden, instead of a natural area.  It's amazing seeing a pure, cold springs bubbling up from the canyon floor, the miracle of running streams and the astonishing biosphere it supports in such a small area. Here's a few pictures: