Parting shots

We're back to our usual (very) quiet routine this morning.  Amanda and Tom got home safely yesterday afternoon, but there were some tears along the way, as vacation in Seattle is just too much fun. Two little girls did not want to go home.

Of course the weather turned spectacular,  now that the holiday is over.  It's going to be very warm this week.  I woke up around 4 this morning and the sky was already light and the birds were busy.  

Speaking of light, this is a beautiful 5 minute video done by Don Jenson highlighting "light pollution" in the Northwest. 

The plinkey-plinkey instrument

That's what John always calls my ukulele.  Oh well, he can't play Op. 6, No. 19 by Dionisio Agaudo! This little classical ditty took me about 2 years of practice. I recorded it on my iphone and made a video with some garden photos. And posted it on YouTube.  It just goes to show, even senior citizens can learn something new.  Never give up what you love doing.

Museum of Flight

It is cool and cloudy, a good day for the Museum of Flight and we had a great time.  I can't remember the last time John and I were there, but it was years ago.  It's been expanded, and now very kid friendly.

Here's Nova and Maya in the retro 747 lounge with some cool 1970's dummies...the good old days of flying these little ones will never know.

John giving some pointers in the jet simulation exhibit.

And in the cockpit. 

But my favorite is touring Air Force One from the Kennedy era, complete with Jacqueline's decorating touches.

Good deed piggy

Amy Trotter has been out doing community work with her friends.   

Like visiting the Tacoma Lutheran Retirement Community...

And socializing outside with a group of Japanese medical students.  

A soft thoughtful time

The Memorial Day weekend won't be a complete washout, but it's going to be damp and cloudy in Seattle.  Amanda and the girls will be here tomorrow afternoon and stay until Monday.  Tom is also in town, working on a painting job, but hopefully he has time for some city fun too. It will be a quick trip for them, but we haven't seen the little girls much since Christmas, so we're looking forward to it. 

"Rampant" best describes the garden this spring. The hedge is literally taking over the front yard, and Colin will not be happy when he finally shows up and sees how tall it is.  Oh, well. I called him a month ago, but he said he couldn't get to our job until late June. Of course, that will add to the bill.

Even though it isn't warm, this grey morning seems almost tropical. It's just so incredibly green from that cycle of rain, heat and now more rain.

"What a strange thing it is to wake up to a milk-white overcast June morning! The sun is hidden by a thick cotton blanket of clouds, and the air is vapor-filled and hazy with a concentration of blooming scent. 

The world is somnolent and cool, in a temporary reprieve from the normal heat and radiance.  But the sensation of illusion is strong. Because the sun can break through the clouds at any moment. 

What a soft thoughtful time. In this illusory gloom, like a night-blooming flower, let your imagination bloom in a riot of color."

Vera Nazarian
The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

"Your old nonsense"

Ralph Waldo Emerson was born May 25, 1803.  He believed in Transcendentalism, the idea that everything in our world—even a drop of dew—is a microcosm of the universe.  God was not remote and unknowable.  Believers could find God and themselves by looking into their own souls, and connecting with nature.

He wrote:

 “Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

Routines

Tending the Garden

Robert Lewis Reid

Everyone is home safely, and today we are all back to work, school and our regular chores. I think routines are reassuring not just for kids but grown-ups too.  Sleeping, eating, practicing, reading, writing, exercise give our lives structure and help us focus, while taking our minds off things we cannot change. Of course, being human, our routines sometimes go by the wayside, and it takes a bit of effort to get back on track. (I WILL go to the gym this morning.)

It was special spending family time with our amazing dad.  The trip was only four days, but so eventful it seems like we were gone much longer.  Especially when I walked in the backyard yesterday afternoon, and saw the forest of bamboo shoots. Apparently a person cannot turn her back on those roots for a moment. Never mind, I'll make quick work of them with my weed-eater today.

Morning dawns

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's re-creation of the new day.

The full blue moon set this morning, just as the sun lit up the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, 100 miles away in northern New Mexico.  We gathered yesterday at the Cripple Creek Cemetery for a tribute to a beloved wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.

Together we laid her ashes to rest in this place she loved so much, overlooking the town and mountains.  We shared many special memories with tears and laughter.  Mom will be dearly missed, and never forgotten by her family. 

Our heartfelt thanks to Brian, who gave a service of tremendous comfort, hope and inspiration.  Our family is truly blessed.

From left to right: Brian, Sam, Julie, William, Amanda, Dave, April, Hayden, little Cody, me, Dad and Marji.

Honor and remember

The garden is getting away from me, but in a wild and beautiful way. The birds love it, so who cares? A nature sanctuary is rare and precious in this neighborhood, where many of the big box houses don't even have a front yard, much less a private back one.

Our garden has been 35 years in the making, with the exception of the fig tree and holly, it was all planted by me. Which is a bit mind-boggling. We walked around the house before dinner last night with our wineglasses, and the plants and trees were towering over our heads. Or, as I said to John, perhaps we're becoming one of those little old couples creeping along.  The world is not getting bigger, we're just shrinking.

 "The only thing that is constant is change."

On Friday morning, we're flying to Colorado with Amanda and my brother Dave. Mom's memorial service will be held on Saturday morning.  Our family will gather privately at the Cripple Creek Cemetery to honor her life, and the afternoon, welcome friends to the house to share their memories and pay their respects to dad.  Although this is a sad occasion, it is truly a celebration of mom's long life and the legacy of her wonderful family.

I probably won't have time to write in the next few days, but will check in if the opportunity comes up. I'm looking forward to spending time with dad and my family. We return to Seattle on Monday. 

Happy Birthday, Marji

Here you are with mom, a very long time ago :-) 

And soaking up the attention from our grandparents, Herman and Anna Klingler and Great-grandma Marie Klinger.    I hope your day is as awesome as you are!

Grow!

February

May

The sun didn't make an appearance all weekend. We're back to typical Northwest spring weather, cool and wet.  There was no rain for the past two weeks, making us complacent as Californians about the fine weather (ho-hum, another sunny May morning.)  So it seemed especially grey and gloomy yesterday. The furnace even came on. 

I've been watering my new cypress trees every few days and willing them to grow.  Of course trees require more patience than geraniums, and mostly just put down roots for the first year. But when I looked back at the February planting pictures, it's not wishful thinking, they are starting to fill out in a pretty way and getting taller.  Before long they should top the fence, as Leylan Cypress is one of the fastest growing trees.  Eventually it will be nice to look at a wall of evergreens back there instead of apartment buildings and roofs.
 
The annual West Seattle Community Yard Sale was on Saturday.  I felt sorry for people sitting under their dripping awnings, especially after a work week of spectacular weather. Rain or shine I can't resist heading out for that big event. There are hundreds of sales within a few square miles of here, with neighbors you never get to meet selling everything under the sun.  Goodness, the things we accumulate and then try to get rid of for a few dollars. 

I think American babies (rather, their parents) are the world's greatest consumers.  There were mountains of outgrown plastic gear, fancy strollers, toys and barely worn clothes.  Speaking of that, I scored a big pile of nice summer clothes for Nova and Maya, for the price of a couple Target t-shirts.

I was proud of myself for being restrained. After all, the junk truck was just here a few months ago. But I could not resist a hand-carved wood lion head for $5.  When I got home, I put him up to guard the back door. Hopefully he scares the raccoons away.

When John reads the blog this morning at work, as he always does, he will feel silly because he walked right past his new lion head all weekend without even noticing.

Beauty queen

"Not favored spots alone, but the whole earth

The beauty wore of promise, that which sets

The budding rose above the rose full blown."

William Wordsworth

Nothing in the flower world compares to the sight and scent of full-blown garden roses in May.  This is a David Austin English variety called Brother Cadfael, named after the fictional character in the Ellis Peter murder mystery books.  All roses are finicky, but Brother Cadfael has been carefree from the start. Despite the delicate pink flowers, this variety is so vigorous he can actually grow up to 8 feet tall.

So, one more 85 degree day to enjoy before we head into a cool and showery weekend.  Hope you have a good one.

Limerick Day

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!"
—Edward Lear

May 12th is Limerick Day.  Limericks are associated with Edward Lear, whose published limericks appeared in A Book of Nonsense in 1846.  No one really knows when or where limericks started, but the earliest ones relate mostly to drinking and taverns.  People probably loosened up over a few drinks and then chanted bawdy songs and poems. Hundreds of years later, literary types started to take limericks seriously enough to write them down. Ogden Nash was a master of limericks.

 There was a young belle of old Natchez
Whose garments were always in patchez.
When comments arose
On the state of her clothes,
She replied, "When Ah itchez, Ah scratchez."
—Ogden Nash

There was a young lady named Bright
who traveled much faster than light.
She set out one day
in a relative way,
and came back the previous night.
—Anonymous

Our novels get longa and longa
Their language gets stronga and stronga
There’s much to be said
For a life that is led
In illiterate places like Bonga
—H. G. Wells

Limericks are often used for political purposes:

There's a boastful campaigner named Trump
who is doing quite well on the stump.
All his insults and gaffs
only get him more laughs.
Will he wind up a champ or a chump?
—Richard Stoll Armstrong 
  
Of course the best limericks can't be posted on this PG-rated blog. They were written by the greatest and most prolific of all poets, Anonymous.

But here's a naughty limerick from the coolest dude who ever lived:

I finally found the perfect girl.
I could not ask for more.
She's deaf and dumb and oversexed.
And owns a liquor store.
—attributed to Dean Martin

Showing off early

The garden is really struttin' its stuff early this year. I can't ever remember a May this warm and dry in Seattle.  These are the pictures I usually show off in June.

What's a garden without a little mystery? I found this piece of deer antler yesterday. A kid didn't throw it in the yard, because it was hidden behind the fountain.  It is well-chewed, so I'm guessing a discarded raccoon toy.  I see them every morning from my desk, frolicking around and looking for new trouble.

Speaking of mischief, last night a raccoon knocked out power to 38,000 people in Seattle. Really. He climbed over a high razor wire fence at a substation near Ballard, probably after crow eggs in a nest.   A neighbor said said he heard an explosion, and then saw city workers with a dazed raccoon. One person said he was arrested alive and taken off in a box, but there are conflicting news stories as to his fate.  I did not make this up.  CLICK HERE.

Best friends

What a beautiful picture of Amanda, Maya and Nova with Gina, Finnbar and Adelina.  This was taken by Michael (Gina's husband) on Mother's Day.

The Flyin' Dutchman

Dancing for joy.  Sort of.

Wow. The only traffic news we ever get is the bad kind.  But the Alaska Way Viaduct actually reopened this morning, five days ahead of schedule.  I guess Bertha finally got her lazy you-know-what in high gear.  Anyway, drilling under the old structure went more quickly than expected, and the engineers say it's as safe to drive on now as it was before she started.  (Which isn't saying much, but we're used to that.)

We took surface streets through downtown all the way to the Seattle Center yesterday, and it felt like a video thrill game, the streets were so congested with people popping up doing stupid and unpredictable things.  But we made it, actually with an hour to spare to drink coffee and chat with Candi.

Even for hardened opera goers, this one was a bit of a slog, well over two hours running without an intermission. It's too bad, because we really like Wagner's music.  At least I do, I shouldn't speak for John, although he sat through the entire Ring Cycle twice, which is saying something.

The period setting of The Flying Dutchman for this production was changed to 1930's Germany. The sets and costumes were dark and gloomy, except for flashing lights and weird bits of neon colors.  There were chairs stuck on the wall and the stage was tilted. You could ignore it to a certain extent, but eventually it distracted from the excellent singing and symphonic music.

We have a relatively new general director of Seattle Opera, so he's making his own creative mark and trying to generate interest in the opera.  I understand his dilemma. Those of us who have been going to the opera for 40+ years are, well, dying off. Who will replace this old audience?  And does the younger generation even have the attention span for this art form?

Changing settings to make opera more "relevant" is done all the time in the theater. But twice this season, the final ending from an original libretto was altered.  Both times with gun violence, I suppose for just the shock value.

In The Flying Dutchman original story, the heroine Senta chooses to throw herself in the sea as the cursed Dutchman leaves her behind. Wagner's swelling music makes it pretty clear they are united in Everlasting Bliss. He was big on that stuff.  In this production, Senta gets shot by her jealous boyfriend, who happens to be a hunter and is always waving his rifle around.  So instead of Wagner's beautiful, reflective music, the final impression was an ugly bang. 

It makes a person nervous about these new surprise endings!  What's next? Is Rodolfo going to put Mimi out of her misery?  Is Butterfly going to pull out a pistol instead of a samurai sword?

Heart and Soul

Practice makes perfect.  Nova and her dad perform a duet. Nice job, kids!

Say, what's that noise?

Today is National Nurses Day. A big shout out to Amanda, our hard-working nurse and mom.

I said those very words the other night. Just when Amanda was getting home, a great racket suddenly went up outside her car! 

(And if you can't find the Nervine, Amanda, a nice cold glass of Chardonnay should do the trick.)



In Seattle news, we are in the middle of yet another stretch of beautiful sunny weather.  I'm actually watering the garden in May.  What will July bring?  Maybe record cold temperatures and rain. Breaking records seems to be the new weather normal.

 Go, Girl

We are surviving the Viaduct closure, but it isn't pretty. It took me over a half hour getting to the freeway yesterday, but it was worth it.  I had a nice lunch with my dear friend Julie in Woodinville. Today, I'm attempting the barn. You can't be an Urban Village prisoner forever.  We are supposed to be riding bicycles and taking the bus, but in that case I'd get to North Bend in about a week.

It seems I never have good news to report on Bertha, and I don't want to jinx the project now, but so far so good.  If we can believe WASHDOT, the drill has already dug (they say "mined") 208 of the 385 feet.  So if the structure isn't damaged in the process, hopefully the highway will open again in about a week.

We don't have to leave West Seattle tomorrow (yea) but on Sunday afternoon we have an opera. So it will probably take over an hour to get to the opera house, 4 miles away as the crow flies.  If we're late we're out of luck.  The opera is "The Flying Dutchman" which runs 2 1/2 hours without an intermission. After all the effort of getting there, it would be a shame to watch it in the lobby on the closed circuit TV.

Have a wonderful weekend, and best wishes to all the super moms in the family.  We are blessed.

Golden days

I love these pictures Amanda sent this weekend. They are taking a family hike in Pipestone Canyon.

The yellow flowers that cover the Methow Valley hills so beautifully in the spring are called Arrowleaf Balsamroot.  It is a North American species of sunflower, widespread across the West.  A specimen was collected by the botanist Meriwether Lewis on their expedition in 1806.  All of the plant can be eaten, although it supposedly tastes "bitter and pine-like." Native Americans used it for food and medicine, and the seeds were especially useful for oil.

From The Herbal Country Doctor blog:

"When taken internally, Balsamroot acts as a disinfectant and expectorant. Like Echinacea, it may also stimulate white blood cell activity. Topically, Balsamroot serves to disinfect, reduce inflammation, and enhance healing.  Powdered Balsamroot leaves can be applied to the skin and covered with hot towels to heal burns and wounds, soothe eczema, and ease the pain associated with bruises and contusions. In a pinch, you can mash or chew the leaves, apply them to the injured area, and cover with another intact leaf. The powdered root makes a decent antifungal that can be applied as a poultice or salve to treat ringworm, jock itch, and athlete’s foot.  The root can be steamed and eaten or dried and pounded into flour or used as a coffee substitute."

Things to Remember

I often work with old scrapbooks that were donated to the museum library.  Researchers like them.  Contrary to popular belief, everything isn't out there on the Internet, and scrapbooks are a great source for personal information and clippings from old and obscure publications.

Archivists tolerate scrapbooks in their collections for the research value, but scrapbooks are a paper conservator's worst nightmare.  The acidic, brittle paper, crumbling clippings, dust, mold, glued on photographs, pressed plants and random mementos of all sorts of material.  Eek! You never know what you'll find in a scrapbook.  If archival conservators had their way, they would photograph each page to preserve the content, then throw the whole mess in the trash. Basically, they are dangerous to other paper and photographs stored in the archive.

Of course this fussy and expensive solution isn't practical.  For one thing, there are just too many of them. It wasn't that long ago when most girls and many women kept scrapbooks.

In fact, these are pages from my childhood scrapbook.  Mom helped us make nice scrapbooks, and she kept mine for many years. When I saw it again, I was surprised how much work went into it at such a young age.  Kids had longer attention spans back then.

Mom cared about preserving family history and recording life's little events. We once used scrapbooks, letters and diaries to do this, and now we have Facebook and blogs. Well, I got it from someone :-)

It's interesting that "scrapbooking" is a verb now and a popular hobby once again.

My old scrapbook is stuffed with things like letters, school assignments and postcards...

And here's the mail order form for my first saddle (bought with babysitting money) and a receipt from the western store for a shirt, hat and boots. I see mom typed a note on the saddle order to "send it quickly" because "Suzy was riding in the Woodland Park rodeo parade." So sweet.

And yes, what's a scrapbook without glued on photos and cards? So time passes, and the trivial eventually becomes the priceless.

At the museum I'm starting work on another collection from the pioneer Denny family.  It has a scrapbook one of the Denny daughters made in the early 1900's, full of things like her dance cards, fashion pictures and clippings.

But this was interesting. Inside the front cover, the publisher had printed these guidelines for a young person starting a scrapbook:

My memory book shall keep for me a record of: 

My home
Recollections of my father and mother
My school days
My first position
My travels
Autographs of my friends
Wedding, birth and obituary notices
Pressed flowers and leaves
Music; what it means to me and what I like best
Works of art, my favorites
The science I am most interested in
History and events during my lifetime 
Books I like best and my favorite poems
Pictures of people of note
Programs of plays and concerts
My ideals and their inspiration
My hobbies
My clubs
My family tree 

"O Memories, O Past that Is.."
George Eliot