Weekend potpourri

Right around the vernal equinox, the evening light slants through the front windows at the perfect angle to illuminate the dust and crumbs under the table. Of course I have to jump up to grab a Swiffer, the greatest invention in the history of housewives.  Soon it will be too dark to notice much dust-- until the next equinox. This is called Spring and Fall housekeeping.

On Saturday morning, my ukulele group performed at the new Aegis assisted-living facility a few blocks from here. Oh my, was it ever fancy and elegant, with huge common spaces and small bedrooms starting at $4,000 a month, gourmet food included, wine extra.  But can you imagine living in a 5-star hotel, or permanently on a giant cruise ship? Our dusty, homey cottage looked pretty good when I got home.

Along with a Wagner overture and the Dvorak Cello Concerto, we heard "Pictures from an Exhibition" at the Symphony yesterday, an audience favorite.  Back in February 2012, I wrote a long blog post about the piece and matched the actual pictures with Mussorgsky's music. I must have felt especially ambitious (or bored) that morning:  CLICK HERE for the link. Anyway, we enjoyed the concert and seeing our friends.

A busy first week of October week ahead. I have an appointment with a new tax accountant this morning (I'd rather go to the dentist) and a Medicare specialist tomorrow (ditto.)  On Wednesday though, a better dishwasher arrives. Yea!  But say a little prayer they can shoehorn it in that tiny space.

That's about all the news fit to print on this cold Monday morning.
So long, September.

The look of fall

A new (old) Ivan Doig novel and a new velvet pillow from Marshalls.  I like to read on the sofa with the afternoon light at my back, and yes, have been known to take a little nap there after lunch.

I went on a fun little shopping spree at Marshalls yesterday. The tired summer stuff was gone and the store freshly stocked with fall merchandise and kitchen stuff for Halloween and Thanksgiving.  All too soon everything morphs into Christmas, but for a few weeks, there's the cozy feel of fall in the stores.

We finished the PBS Ken Burns Country Music series last night-- all 16 hours of it. It was long but not a boring moment. As a teenager growing up in Colorado, I was crazy about the Beatles, folk music and the British bands. But country music records were the undercurrent, played in jukeboxes, on the radio, and even at our dances. I'm not big on the modern sound of country, but always liked the old classic songs. Watching the Ken Burns special made me realize why.  Because they are good and true.

Speaking of fall, it was school open house night at Liberty Bell Elementary in the Methow Valley. Here's first grader Maya, showing off her illustrated story. It looks very interesting. I'll have her translate when we see them in October.

And another sure sign of seasons changing, our Seattle Symphony series starts this Sunday with Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition and Dvořák’s cello concerto. We're looking forward to getting caught up with Betsy and Paul, and seeing Mary, our young music-loving friend sitting behind us in the 5th row.

Have a good weekend, dear friends and family.

Johnny Appleseed Day

Eat an apple on going to bed,

and you'll keep the doctor from earning his bread.

September 26th is Johnny Appleseed Day. We think of him as the comical Disney figure who traveled the wilds of America spreading apple seeds. He was in fact a serious missionary by the name of John Chapman, an original American St. Francis, with a love and respect for all living creatures.

Chapman was one of the first ethical vegetarians and went to great pains not to hurt animals, including insects. Most of the apples he cultivated went into the production of hard cider.   

In Colonial America, cider was the most common beverage, and even children drank it in a diluted form. In many places, the water was not safe and most homesteads had apple orchards.

Give me Chardonnay, or give me death.

Hard cider is popular again and there are all sorts of artisan brands at the grocery store with appealing labels. I like the idea of cider more than the reality of drinking it. I've tried a few times and it was harsh on the stomach. Maybe hard cider needs heavy colonial food, like a lard pie or squirrel stew. 

So much for September ending on a mellow note. The wind is whipping the trees this morning and we're getting drenched. Power outages here and there around Seattle. It's about to get quite chilly too, with first snow in the high mountains.  Our stormy weather matches the political mood in that "other Washington."

Anyway, it's more like a late October forecast. I'm bummed and so is my riding friend. Between the bad weather and a string of appointments stretching into next week, we can't get over Vashon Island to trail ride in the fall woods. 

I want a puppy for Christmas

Food memory

You call that a peach?

Mealy and black inside. I threw all 5 in the compost. Thanks, QFC.  Seasonal fruit was once so delicious we gorged on it when we could. Food memory must be lodged in that reptilian part of the brain, along with other physical sensations we can't forget.

Mom canned dozens of quarts of tomatoes and peaches on the farm. We grew the tomatoes, but piled into the Suburban to buy bushels of peaches in late summer.  The orchard man would take out his pocket knife and give a half to the kids. I remember driving home with sticky juice running down my hand. Another of those visceral memories.

No matter how simple the dinner, we always had dessert, like jello, junket, pudding or just a canned peach half.  The old Pennsylvania Dutch loved their cake and pie. For supper and even breakfast at Grammy's, it would be right on the table with the other food as part of the meal, not something you ate an hour later.

Another food memory: a salty, smoky slice of Lebanon or "ring" baloney on a piece of folded white bread, with a slice of shoo-fly pie on the side.  If someone put that in front of me, would it taste as good? I don't eat like that now, but my brain stem still says "yes."

Speaking of food, it's a chilly morning in more ways than one.  I have some white beans soaking to make chicken chili with some of the hot green chili power I bought in New Mexico. I haven't used any of it yet-- so a culinary experiment. A dash of this, a pinch of that. However it turns out, I'll never be able to reproduce the same exact same recipe.  Sorry, John.

Autumn Equinox

Autumn Leaves

John Everett Millet

What a pretty picture. Nothing like the view in our backyard this weekend.

Fall started at 12:50 am on the west coast, and appropriately, the forecast is for cloudy skies, rain, and chilly temperatures this week.

We've probably seen the last 70 degrees days. Fall lovers rejoice. Ready or not, it's here.

So the deed is done. John sacrificed most of his weekend to chainsaw the top off the plum tree and then chop up this huge pile of aphid infested, diseased branches. He managed to get most of it in the yard waste bin, which now weighs 300 pounds. (Condo living sounding better and better.)

I'll spray the trunk and branches with dormant oil this winter and see what happens.  Of course it will sprout back vigorously in the spring. The big question being whether it stays healthy without the hefty use of pesticides, a nauseating thought in plum chutney. If not, it's outta here for good. I know where to buy plums.

After all that trouble, some famous last words come to mind: 
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

The good life

It's a pretty good life for a bunny, here in the big city.  He dines on hollyhock seeds, windfall apples and clover flowers in our weedy, weedy yard.

Nothing like the 30 inches of rain in Texas this week, but we've had an unusual amount of September moisture. Look how fast the grass (and moss) greened up. It will stay green now until it turns brown again next summer, one of the things I like about our temperate Seattle climate. The Emerald City.

This jasmine decided to twine itself up an old wheel. Sometimes garden accidents are the best. Unfortunately, the jasmine polyanthum is a tropical variety and won't survive a hard freeze. If we have a mild winter they can make it, if I cover them at night. There's another massive one planted in a half barrel, so I can't drag them in and out of the basement anymore.   

The Washington Post garden columnist Henry Mitchell once wrote this about September:  

There is no need to think of September as the trash bin of the year, with just scraps of leftover things in the garden, because many things are only coming to perfection at the end of summer--a soft and gleaming season.

Such as the Autumn Sedum coming into its own.  There's nothing dainty about this beautiful workhorse of the garden.

Well, the last busy week of summer draws to a close, and Monday is the first day of Fall.
Have a great weekend. 

Mountain kids

Our granddaughter Nova is at "Mountain School" this week at the North Cascades Institute. She's there for three days and two nights with her 5th grade class, learning about about ecosystems and natural history. What a great lifestyle for those kids, growing up with the North Cascades mountains practically in their backyard.

Amanda and Tom pick her up tomorrow on their way to Seattle for a busy weekend with his family. We're looking forward to seeing them for a bit on Sunday morning before they head home.

It's not officially fall but sure feels like it. Yesterday was a perfect afternoon, with bright blue skies and a little nip to the air. Today and tomorrow a repeat performance,  then rain returns for the weekend.

I have that familiar September feeling-- overwhelmed with the amount of fall clean up. What comes up must eventuality go down into the compost bin. There isn't any rush, except it's nasty working out there in November.  I'm slowly topping the plum tree in a last ditch attempt to save it. The branches are so diseased from years of aphids. With the height down, I might be able to spray it more thoroughly with dormant oil and give it a new lease on life in the spring. At least that's the plan. If it lives, it won't have plums again for a couple of years.

Three chords and the truth

It poured rain yesterday so I caught up on laundry, made beef stew for dinner tonight, and finally got around to re-stringing my Kamaka ukulele. It's a fine instrument, a replica of an antique Kamaka worth many thousands of dollars, if you can even find one. 

When I bought it at Dusty Strings, they compared the Kamaka to owning a vintage car: requires tinkering. As a beginner, that should have scared me off, but it was love at first sight. You learn the hard reality of the relationship later.

Yes, it has quirks, like fussy, stiff tuners and a frustrating way of attaching strings with knots that tend to pop out. But now that I'm used to it, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The 16-hour (whew) Ken Burns country music special started this week on PBS. Watching his stuff is a bit of an ordeal, albeit a pleasant one.  Peter Coyote's droning voice puts me to sleep, so it might take a while. Fortunately we can stream it.

I'm looking forward to the Hillbilly Shakespeare episode. I love Hank Williams. The Ukes play several of his songs like Jambalaya, Hey, Good Lookin' and I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, perhaps the saddest song ever written.

They're fun to play because they're easy, and satisfying to play because they're good.  I'd much rather play Hank Williams than struggle though a rock classic "transcribed" for the ukulele. Or worse, butcher some great material from the Great American Songbook. But that's just me.  
I'm So Lazy I Could Cry.

September Morn

September Morn

Paul Emile Chabas

Our mom (also dad) loved this picture.  For years it hung above a claw foot bathtub in the old Cripple Creek house. Being of a different generation, not that far removed from the Victorians, she thought it was too racy for any other room. Sometimes she even covered it with a towel, in case visitors would be offended. I think that is sweet and funny, like mom often was.

The notorious original is at the Metropolitan Museum of Art but hasn't been on display for years. It's considered kitschy now, but I like it. It was hanging in a back corner of the basement, but I had the frame repaired and brought it upstairs to my boudoir.

September Morn first went on exhibit at the Paris Salon in 1912, and from that point on, the many reproductions caused controversy in the United States. These days it looks pretty tame, but a Chicago art dealer was once charged with indecency for displaying it. Some 7 million reproductions were sold, though poor Chabas, who had not copyrighted September Morn, never got any royalties. It also inspired songs, stage shows and films. There's quite an interesting Wiki page on the picture: Click here. 

Well, no bathing in lakes today. This September morn dawns wet, windy and dark.

A quick visit

Rebecca, John and Dan

Despite the gloomy weather, we had a nice visit yesterday with John's brother and sister-in-law. We took a Sunday drive down to Alki Beach and around the congested Urban Village, with a stop at the West Seattle view point. Actually traffic wasn't bad, because most people were home watching the football game on a rainy Sunday afternoon.  Go, Hawks.

Then Dan took us out for a hearty Vietnamese dinner at the New Leaf Bistro, a few blocks from our house. They fly home to Columbus, Ohio this morning.

Sunday soaker

Oh well, at least the grass is greening up. September is already wetter than usual, and now a series of weather fronts headed our way, a pattern that looks more like typical November.  Now worries, we'll be indoors today, visiting with family from out-of-state.

"September in the Rain." One of the loveliest songs ever written.

Blogging juice

No Friday blog. I'm doing one of those fasting blood tests and without my coffee, the brain is stuck in neutral.  See you Monday.

The almost gone Viaduct

Now you see it, now you don't. The last remaining piece of the old elevated highway comes down this week. The project will eventually change the waterfront in a big way, opening up city views and (hopefully) improving traffic on a new, busy four-lane surface street.

In the meantime, it's the place to avoid, with intersections randomly closed for construction and the Coleman Ferry Dock under major renovation. Speaking of Seattle transportation, the new tunnel is free for a few more weeks. Enjoy, folks. After that, tolls will range from $1 - $2.25 during peak times.  Let's see. That's about $100 a month, if you commute through daily. The price of living in paradise.

Well, one more day of nice weather before a chilly, wet pattern sets in for the weekend. Full harvest moon tomorrow night if you're lucky enough to see it.

Old things, new things

So many poignant songs and poems have been written about September. No wonder. September is  typically a lovely month here, not exactly summer, but still dry and warm.  This week has been more like a preview of October, with heavy showers and cloudy mornings.

Today should be nice once it burns off, a pleasant 70 degrees, so I'll walk 7 blocks down to the store for my afternoon shift. I'm still working alone, which means I have to think on my feet and have opportunity for all sorts of creative mistakes. Not that anyone seems worried. I haven't been demoted to the back room yet.

I'm tired after 4 hours and John picks me up in the car. We get home right before our early dinnertime at 5, so I always make something that just needs heating up. This morning, a pot of vegetable soup with leftover Costco rotisserie chicken.

With this weather, I'm into fall housecleaning in a big way, tearing into closets and pulling things off jammed shelves, also cleaning out the girl's baby toys and books. Every week I take a couple of bags down to the Stop n' Shop.  It's fun seeing "my stuff" for sale, people excited about their finds, and the money going to a good cause. What goes around, comes around. Most of it came from thrift stores and yard sales anyway.

I found this pretty doll someone gave me long ago, the poor thing stuffed in a drawer.  She's an antique French boudoir doll, and there's an exact replica for sale on Ebay, where you can literally find anything in the world.

Mine doesn't have original clothing or a trademark, so she's not especially valuable, despite being 100 years old. Back in the 1920's, these fancy lady dolls were popular with grown women, who used them as decor in their bedrooms.  Apparently they appear in the 1930's "Nick and Nora" movies, like "The Thin Man," which added to their popularity. She's a keeper, even though Maya and Nova think she's too scary to play with. 

Fast fashion

Woman with a Sewing Machine

David Hockney

September 10 is Sewing Machine Day, a good time to think about our clothing habits. Issac Singer filed a sewing machine patent in 1851. Before the home machine, women spent several days a month just maintaining the family's clothing. 

It took an experienced seamstress at least 14 hours to make a man's dress shirt by hand. Clothing was worn until it fell to rags, then the rags recycled for useful things like rugs and quilts.  Most people only had two outfits, one for work and another for Sunday.    

Contrast that to our giant walk-in closets and throw-away fashion.  In America, an item of clothing is worn an average of 8 times before being discarded. I learned this in an interview on PBS News, featuring Dana Thomas, author of “Fashionopolis: The Price of Fast Fashion and the Future of Clothes."

Girl at Sewing Machine

Edward Hopper

"Fast fashion" means it takes only two weeks for a garment to go from foreign factory to retail store. Clothing inventory, once seasonal, now rotates constantly so shoppers always have something new. Cheap clothing is relatively new. Girls my age took Home Ec in school, and learned to sew their own dresses, blouses and skirts to save money. Now it's the opposite, and patterns and fabric are quite expensive.

1970's Style

I admit, recreational shopping is one of my weaknesses, especially sales and bargains. Last week at H&M, I bought a fleece jacket for Maya (Cambodia, $13.99) and a polyester coat ($59, China) for myself. I'll wear it occasionally for a couple of years until it gets pilled, or stained, or I find something new. Then it gets added to my huge pile of discarded clothes left behind on the planet.

Tired

Christian Krohg 

Something else to think about. Dana Thomas said in the interview that the person sewing the garment in the foreign sweatshop makes a penny for every retail dollar.  That's about 50 cents wage for my new coat, and 14 cents for Maya's jacket.

View from West Seattle

Rainbow
by William Wordsworth

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
      Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

People are still talking about the big weather excitement and the unusual lightening storm.   Anyway, we're back to calm Monday mood weather, with showers and cooler temperatures for the week. The garden is suddenly dank and wet. How does autumn feel to you? For me, it has a personality all its own, and with the winding down of nature comes a sweet sort of melancholy and reflection.

Boom

Quite a storm show last night in Seattle, with 200 lightning strikes in the metro area, and over 2,000 reported around western Washington.

I stood out on the porch, listening to dogs barking and cheers going up around the neighborhood like the Fourth of July. You can't blame people getting excited because thunderstorms are rare, and prolonged, severe ones almost unheard of here. 

Of course it brought torrential rain and hail that trashed the big, beautiful begonia I babied along all summer.  

 Darn!

And if there was any doubt that fall is indeed here, the rain scrubbed the summer feel from the air. This morning is cool and drizzly, with more on the way. 

The month of birthdays

Happy birthday to John, the love of my life, not to mention, personal Uber driver, master knife sharpener, universal thing fixer and all around expert.  Yes, I'll feed you grilled steak tonight, on the last summer-like day of the year. Rain returns this weekend, along with the football.

Back to the frozen north

 And many happy returns!

I fly back to Seattle this afternoon after a wonderful visit, short but sweet. We found time for some recreational sister shopping at Hobby Lobby. I'll only say, we're a bad influence. After vowing "we're only looking" and "don't let me buy a single thing" the cart was soon brimming with fall stuff. (What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.) 

We finished a perfect day with a perfect dinner out-- thank you, Dad. The weather is toasty, to put it mildly, with a brisk scorching breeze and 109 degrees, making it feel like you're walking around in a convection oven. Everyone is excited because it will cool off to the high 90's by next week.  In Seattle, they could declare a emergency and call out the National Guard.

The morning are beautiful though, and perfect for sitting on the patio with a cup of coffee, watching the sunrise and hummingbirds. How very lucky we are. 

Surprise!

I happened to be in the neighborhood last night, and dropped by for Dad's birthday party!

Well, not exactly. But I decided I couldn't miss the big day, and got a last minute flight from Seattle. Then Uber out to the house, and Marji and I kept the secret until Dad opened the front door, thinking it was a UPS delivery.  Surprise!

Marji invited six of their closest friends over to celebrate and made a big spaghetti dinner. I'm glad I finally got to meet them, what a fun bunch.

I'll be here for another day to visit, then back to Seattle tomorrow afternoon.

Marji, Craig and Judy

A beautiful table

The birthday boy

Tracy and Dad

Yummy cake

Dad and daughters celebrating a special day.

A big day

Guess who's 95 today? 
Happy Birthday, Dad!

The real McCoy

I made Chili Colorado this weekend with the Chimayo chili from the El Potrero Trading Post, following a recipe on their website.

The "Colorado" refers to the color of the dish, not the state. It isn't difficult, but the sauce recipe has several steps. First, they recommend soaking the raw powder in water for 30 minutes. 

Then make a simple brown roux with minced garlic, oil and 2 tablespoons of flour.

Add the wet chili powder...

And spices: cumin, salt, oregano and a dash of red vinegar. At this point, it still tasted pretty harsh, but a half hour of slow simmering mellowed it out. You can use it as the base for many Southwest dishes like huevos rancheros, and freeze the extra for later.

I browned onion, green peppers and thin sliced chuck steak. Usually I put jalapenos and canned tomatoes in a stew like this, but the sauce was already quite strong and flavorful.

The meat goes in and simmers slowly for several hours.  Tough old chuck steak is one of the best meats for stewing, but it helps to have a heavy, cast iron braising pan. You could also do it in a crock pot. After 4 hours, transformed into a rich meal with tortillas and whole pinto beans.