Bye-bye July

It's still officially summer, but the season is already changing in subtle ways. The early mornings are darker and dewy. The roses are giving their second bloom a valiant try, but most of the flowers are now past their peak.

I've started cutting back big masses of flopping daisies. It's actually restful to see a bit of bare space in the garden. The late blooming dahlias are finally coming into their own, a sure sign fall is around the corner.

August is the "back-to-school" shopping month, always fun, but it seems like a cruel joke this year since most kids won't be in the classroom. None of us will ever forget the strange summer of 2020.
 
Peak Summer
Erik Nixon

We're steeped in summer
And everything around me
Seems to indicate it'll never end
But still I'm spending time
Looking for the subtle signs
Trying to figure out when
We've reached peak summer
When a billion green trees
Start to dull ever so slightly
When the bounty of vegetables
Found at all the local farm stands
Starts thinning in quality and quantity
When the Halloween candy
Appears in the supermarkets
And the Back to School! signs
Show up in the big box stores
When the sun sets a little earlier
And gets a little more noticeable
Each night, night after night
Until you start thinking about
How much daylight you lost
All of the signs and all of the things
I've been noticing are telling me
That we're right in the midst of
Peak summer and if I'm not careful
It'll be completely over
And I'll have missed it entirely
As the season folds into fall.

Projects

There's plenty to do at home this summer, but unfortunately none of it happens to be fun.  I painted the old deck again yesterday, a once a year job. 

We're still in the scraping-priming stage on the front projects.  These (once) decorative columns rotted away, and in August they get torn out and replaced with indestructible brown aluminum railings. I think it will look nice.  Certainly nicer than this. But I'm trying to get the porch floor and steps painted before that job starts. 
 

And John's project: scraping and priming and painting. Not the whole house of course, but just the most unsightly areas. At least the weather is cooperating.

Sowing seeds of kindness

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,

Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;

Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

American Gospel song, 1875

Maya and her Dad Tom started a seed-saving project this summer. What fun. Vegetable seed packets are expensive, especially when you're planting a large garden.

But mostly, there's just something nice about growing new crops from the best of the old. I remember our Mom always had a lard can filled with seeds she saved from year to year. Seeds are beautiful and fascinating.

Here's an interesting little video about the most expensive seeds on the planet.  

The long, hot 24 hours

A small but noisy BLM protest popped up on our street last night. In this sleepy suburban neighborhood, the sudden racket was jarring at 11 pm. Pounding drums, megaphone, shouting and bright lights shining into dark houses.

After a rally at the school across the street, the group of about 40 people marched off to the Junction. Apparently, their intent was to disturb certain city council members at their homes, and confront them with their demands to de-fund the Seattle police department. Well, everyone else got a nice taste of disturbance along the way.

It was the hottest night of the year, and all the restaurants, bars and parks are closed. I know this sounds cynical, but where can young adults gather to blow off steam?  Don't get me wrong, I sincerely support the cause, but this flash protest was nothing like the big family-attended events in West Seattle on weekend afternoons.

"Small potatoes" says John.

On a cooler note. I'm not a fan of Trader Joe fresh fruit, but this golden watermelon was juicy and sweet. After a taco salad dinner, just the thing. Then we went down to the basement and watched the wonderful old movie "Giant" on Blu-ray. James Dean, Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor. It was on my Netflix list for months before they finally sent it.

Back down to a high of 80 today. The weatherman said the "marine push is the natural wonder of the Pacific Northwest." Yes, indeed. We call it Mother Nature's free air conditioning.

Old Sol

Edward Hooper

Morning Sun

Today is the hottest day of the year, hitting 90 for the first time. Heat advisory warnings on the news this morning reminding us to drink water, etc. Are people really so stupid?  (Short answer, yes.)

Actually, the biggest warm weather danger here is people jumping into freezing rivers and lakes. City beaches along the lakes are closed, no lifeguards, but crowds are still flocking to the water.

As John says, when your front yard looks like San Diego, who needs a vacation? (Short answer, me.) I planted the Windmill Palm about 20 years ago when it was a puny little thing in a gallon container.

An arborist once told me that "palm trees grow very slowly in Seattle." Ha. Not in this yard. This guy is at least 30 feet tall. I love how the fronds rustle in the wind, and when I close my eyes, it brings back memories of carefree tropical vacations.

 And who wants to think about this scene in July?

Weekend sweet

It's nice to see Maya and Nova still have a few toys. Ha!  Amanda said they're using Google Earth on her laptop to look at our house in Seattle. That qualifies as educational.

"Nica" and Maya relaxing.

The saintly "Nica" enduring playtime with bored little girls. This is the good-bad dog that barks at strangers, jumps up, disobediently runs away on walks, and chases deer for miles in the wild. Yes, short of reform school, they've tried everything in the training department.

Of course, she always manages to find her family again on the trail. She's submissive and gentle with the girls, not a mean bone in her body, the ranch-bred mutt has some redeeming qualities.
She is what she is.

And two perfectly obedient children, cleaning the kitchen?    :-)

Distance learning

Being stuck at home is the perfect opportunity to put some polish on your hobbies. And what's my excuse? I haven't picked up a pencil in months.

The Great Courses catalog has a good sale going.  They are usually quite expensive, so I ordered the online drawing class. Maybe I'll be more inspired when we're stuck inside this winter. What an awful thought. These long, pleasant summer days at least give us the illusion of freedom.

Seattle Public Schools just announced they are distance learning only this fall. If things don't improve, children could be out of the classroom for a year or more.  My heart goes out to parents. As Amanda said, home-schooling is impossible when both parents have to work. And distance learning is pretty much a joke with the little kids.  Too many distractions on those Chromebooks.

In the meantime, wealthy and well-connected families are busy setting up social learning pods, hiring personal tutors, or sending their kids to small private schools. As a nation, we've neglected universal child care for years, and now this health crisis makes the social inequities even worse. Especially in rural areas, where families have even less options.

Another grey, cool morning, but we're headed into a pretty impressive warm up next week. Our neighbors are out of town, so I'll be busy watering both our yards.  They are fussy about keeping the grass green--we gave that up long ago.

The home projects continue.  The water heater man came tightened a loose screw, hoping that would fix the problem, but we're still getting an ever-so-faint whiff of gas in the closed laundry room.  He comes back today.  I still have the deck to stain, and John is patching peeling paint on the front of the house.  The new front porch railings get installed in August, and the wood steps should be sanded, primed and painted first.

The list of fun summer activities goes on and on...

A pretty sight

The tomatoes are just getting ripe, and more than usual this summer. Must be that special Mater Magic tomato fertilizer I splurged on.  The plants are 4 feet high and root bound by now, which means they need watering every day. All worth it, when you pop a sun-warmed cherry tomato in your mouth.

Planting a garden was the in thing to do this spring. The lots are small in our neighborhood, and with all the trees most houses don't have full sun in the backyard.  So some folks plant vegetables instead on the parking strips. Ugh. When I walk by, hard not to think about all those dogs.

Have you heard of "doom-scrolling?" A new slang term that describes the endless consumption of gloom and doom news. It's easy to fall into this particular rabbit hole. Guilty as charged.

Our 95-year old Dad told me the other day that "he has never lived through a bad time like this." He is a very wise man, and his lifespan includes the Great Depression, WWII, and countless other economic crisis and social upheavals.

Think about that for a minute.

The day the music stopped

When "The Ukes" played for the last time in February, no one suspected how long it would be until we could meet again. 

Perhaps when it's safer at the Senior Centers, but like so many other things, our group won't be the same.  Not everyone lives in West Seattle, and now there's a daunting detour. Others might be permanently spooked by Covid fears. Who can blame them? In terms of risk, group singing in a small room is off-the-scale. You might as well sit at crowded bar with yelling yokels. 

There's two other ukulele groups in Seattle. SUPA (Seattle Ukulele Players Association) is the largest.  They had a fun monthly jam on Sunday afternoons.  Another group called STRUM played weeknights at the Kona Kitchen in north Seattle.

The husband and wife behind the Kona Kitchen both died of Covid in March. I never went to STRUM meetings because of the evening traffic. And I'm glad, because several STRUM players also got sick in March, and I heard that one player died.

But I'm just an amateur missing my friends. Imagine the heartbreak and frustration for professional musicians unable to perform, deprived of both their passion and livelihood. So much sadness in the world.

One of the Ukes invited everyone to her house this week to play outside, with masks and social distancing. That sounds OK, but I know her backyard is small and enclosed. She also said there would be shared food and drinks. Now how could that work, with masks and social distancing? (It doesn't.) And what about the current orders forbidding groups larger than 10?

Someone needs to write a pandemic etiquette book!  Even the most innocent-sounding invitation is fraught with so many questions it still feels rude to ask. In the end, I decided going just wasn't worth the anxiety. 

Buzzin' of the bees

That's a volunteer sunflower that just appeared out of nowhere, probably sprouted from last winter's bird feeder mess. We're at the peak of summer perfection this week-- a pleasant 80 or so degrees yesterday. 

It's "too hot" for some Seattle natives, but heaven on earth for warm weather lovers. My poor sister and Dad are baking like cookies in the Las Vegas 110 degree oven. Now that's hot.

In the late afternoon, we sit in the afternoon sun with a glass of wine and watch the teeming insects busy with the flowers, oblivious to the cares of the world. Both us and the insects.

Thank you, Wine. Thank you, Nature.

Speaking of Carl Sagan and his "billions," that's surely the number of tiny creatures inhabiting this one small yard, above and below ground. I'll never understand why some people feel the need to poison the entire insect society, just to get a few pesky critters like aphids.

When you look closely, there's so many different varieties of bees and bumblebees. Also dashing hummingbirds, flocks of chattering Bush Tits, Northern Flickers and Scrub Jays plus Stellars Jay. Usually these guys don't get along, but they're working it out. (We could take a lesson from that.) Chickadees are everywhere and the sweet Bewick Wrens. And of course, our resident Leporidae, hopping around looking for apple cores and carrot peels.

Are birds singing louder because the streets are quieter? Or do we just notice them more, being home so much. 

The garden is at the full blown peak of summer, you might say "blowsy." I love that word, sometimes rudely used to describe an older, ill-kept woman. Hum. The flowers are about to turn the corner to messy. Flopping daisies, bloomed out lilies. Soon I'll start the long cutting back process that stretches into November.



What else is new in the Garden of Eden?  The new hot water tank stinks. Not the lovely hot water, but the tank makes a slight but unpleasant odor in the laundry room, noticeable when the door is closed.  Not to sound alarmist, but it is gas, so today the installer returns to check it out for any problems. 

Our pale blue dot

Do you remember this profound speech by Carl Sagan? It becomes more relevant with every passing year. A good message for the start of another difficult week.  

Garden in the rain

The birds and critters and flowers are happy this morning because a nice gentle rain is falling. You can almost hear the slurping. That figures, I wasted an hour yesterday watering everything!

People assume it's "always raining" in Seattle, but in fact the summers are quite dry, with weeks and sometimes months without much rain.  Very few houses have sprinkler systems, so the lawns stop growing and turn brown and crispy in August.  With the fall rain, the grass greens up again for the entire winter-- the opposite of most other places. 

Calm and bright

This is a peaceful view of the Olympic Mountains from Alki Beach on Tuesday, a nice morning for a walk. I've been meeting up lately with one of my oldest friends-- also a librarian, we worked together at Microsoft way back in the 1990's.  The pleasures of friendship are so essential to our happiness and health. 

Not to mention family. Yesterday, John and I drove to Enumclaw and met my brother at a state park for a walk around the lake. We haven't each other since Christmas, which seems incredible.

Here I am with Dave, posing for a few seconds with masks off.  We're having a lovely stretch of summer days, and should take advantage of these low risk activities while we can. 

Summertime, and the livin' is easy. One of our resident bunnies, napping in the front yard.

Wordless Wednesday

Summer Day

Midsummer Evening

Moonlight

Lake at Dusk

Midsummer Night

Primavera

Picnic

At the Garda Lake

Harald Slott-Moller
 1864-1937
Danish Painter

Jungle of color

What exceptional flowers this summer. With all the rain, I've hardly had to water at all. The lilies are at their peak, and sadly no one to see them except us, the bunnies and birds. Truly a secret garden this year.

I've been thinking about the big garden parties we used to throw in July and August, sometimes as many as 50 friends in the yard.  My only care in the world then was worrying if it was going to rain.

Of course that's not true, I've always found silly things to fret about. What will we learn from this experience when we finally come out the other side? Hopefully it gives us better perspective on what's trivial and what's truly important.

Speaking important things in life: a new 50-gallon water heater doesn't hurt.  Powerful gas-fired, it heats scads of scalding hot water in minutes.  Well, it seems like minutes, compared to pots on the stove. Last night I filled the  bathtub to the top-- sheer luxury after sitting in an inch of lukewarm water trying to wash my hair.

More has happened this week, than in the last 4 months combined. All good.

On the road again

 Summer traffic Snoqualmie Pass

"Let's take a road trip" has such a nice ring of freedom. But after being cooped up for months, everyone else in the country has the same idea.

We drove to Twisp on Thursday morning and came back Saturday, trying to avoid peak travel times over the passes. It seemed like every other vehicle was a big RV, or a truck pulling a trailer. A constant stream of heavy traffic, but at least it was moving. That is, until we got back to Seattle.

Are there any places left where you can still feel the wide open road? Maybe eastern Montana, but definitely not in Washington state.  On summer weekends, even before this pandemic travel camping surge, the east-west routes across the state are jammed with vehicles going both directions.

Still, I'm not complaining!  It was priceless seeing the family, and any safe drive from point A to B is a good one in my book. We were home by mid-afternoon Saturday, although tired from sitting so long.

We didn't make our usual stops along the way and lunch was a bag of popcorn in the car.  Then one final traffic obstacle the last few miles via the clogged and confusing detours to West Seattle.  Nothing seems easy anymore, but as John says, we have all the time in the world these days.

This has been our "water heater system" for the past week.  Oh, happy day. The goddess of instant hot water returns to our home today.

Special Friday

What a busy day. In the morning, a walk at Twisp Ponds, The Methow Valley Salmon Recovery Project.

Hanging out in the backyard, the girls always busy with their art projects.  Their local school gave out bags of free art supplies yesterday, a big hit with the kids.

In the evening, a pizza dinner, high above the problems of the world on Amanda and Tom's mountain acreage a few miles outside Twisp.  Many changes since we were last here, including a large, thriving vegetable garden and shade shelter complete with hammocks.

Nova and Maya

The weather was perfect for us.  After gloomy Seattle, finally a real feel of summer.

Maya the cocoon

And a bit of relaxation at Twisp River Inn

Peace like a river

It's a beautiful morning in the Methow Valley. It sure feels good being far away from the big city. I sat on the balcony early this morning with a cup of coffee, listening to the birds wake up along the river.

Last night we had delicious Mexican food in Amanda and Tom's backyard. There's a good restaurant in Twisp called La Fonda Lopez, open for take-out.  We're practicing social distance as much as possible.  It's the right thing to do.

You know what? That 6 feet feels like nothing after being separated for many long months. Just seeing their faces, talking, and being a family again is like heaven. (We'll make up for the hugs and kisses later.)

The chickens provided the evening entertainment. Like teenagers, they seem to be working out their pecking order. It was so comical they had us laughing. They are all named, of course, and quite the pampered pets, well cared for by Nova.

I'm looking forward to more outdoor activities today. A hike perhaps, and time spent up at the property. I can't wait to see the big garden.  It's going to be a beautiful summer day in the mid-80's.  This is the warmest we've felt all summer, in more ways than one.

Naughty "Hey Hey" gets a time out.

The Grammy way

My little electric kettle is pretty handy heating water for dish washing. Standing at the sink doing this humble task for two, I thought about how Grammy (Dad's mother) tackled stacks of dishes after her big Sunday dinners.

I complain about my small kitchen, but it's a palace of convenience compared to her farmhouse with a wood stove, where she cooked and canned and cleaned up thousands of meals for the extended family.

 Grammy Bleam

After a big Sunday dinner, the uncles went off to the parlor or sat outside on the porch and smoked a cigar.  The women helped with the dishes, but Grammy always washed.

The Bleam family farm

 Grammy had a battered oval dish pan, and she poured boiling hot water from the kettle over the dirty dishes. She could dip her hands right into that scalding, soapy water with the dish rag. Then the dishes went into a separate rinse pan, also topped with boiling water. The helping aunts, cousins and nieces gingerly plucked them out with two fingers and dried them. I remember my mom talking about this painful experience! Of course, no one had rubber kitchen gloves in those days.

When the lunch dishes were done, she started Sunday supper.  A big skillet of raw potatoes fried slowly in lard on the wood stove, cold cuts, sometimes scrapple, leftover pie and cake, pickles, cheese and always plenty of white bread.

I loved that second meal the best. Everything was put out the table at once and passed around: the sweets, sours, starches and meat. The Pennsylvania Dutch way.  A Lebanon baloney sandwich with mustard next to a piece of shoo fly pie on a kid's plate? What a special memory.

We didn't do buffet style meals back then. Even picnics outside in the yard were served on trestle tables made with sawhorses and boards.  And tablecloths.

Speaking of washing tablecloths. Here's something hardworking Grammy couldn't have imagined:  an electronic washer/dryer that plays a melody (John says stolen) from Schubert's Trout Quintet. I'm not kidding. 

The Home Deport delivery service got them here OK, but then it took John some fiddling to level them on the rough laundry room floor.   

A busy day. After that, we had to heat water for baths. It's surprising how much work it is without a simple thing like running hot water.

We were tired last night. But today, a release from months of home routine. We're excited about our road trip to central Washington, for a short social distancing visit with the family.  More later.