Happy Halloween. Trick-or-treating is discouraged in Seattle, much less bobbing for apples. I'm old enough to remember this unsanitary party game, and those floating apples covered with little teeth marks.
It typically rains in Seattle on Halloween, but tonight we have perfectly clear autumn skies with a big full blue moon. A lovely night to be out. Go figure.
Well, stay on the safe side and don't laugh at witches. Some are in a real bad mood.
Surprise, in just a few years, the spindly Leyland Cypress trees transformed into another high maintenance hedge. They make a lovely private garden "room" in the backyard. Although sometimes I wish we had all this space inside the house.
This is the last golden afternoon light before we go off Daylight Savings Time, and darkness descends early.
The winter bird feeder is open and business is brisk, with the resident critters out enjoying our little wildlife sanctuary. And crows, always on the make for a handout.
SeaTac Airport
The last time I flew was in January, coming home from Las Vegas on a Friday afternoon. When I got off the plane in Seattle, I had to elbow my way to baggage claim, there were so many people clogging the D concourse waiting to board planes. Lots of exhausted-looking families, so it may have been the start of a school vacation. Everyone sure wanted out of town. And who doesn't, in Seattle in January?
Before the pandemic, the airport was struggling to keep up with the surge of travelers in boom town Seattle. Over 51 million passengers passed through the airport in 2019. So this was just another typical winter weekend.
But I remember thinking this growth is surely not sustainable. The crowding, the lines, the overbooked flights, the dirty public spaces etc. Can everyone continue to fly exactly when and where they want? I had that same feeling on a jammed tour at Windsor Castle. With so much competition to see the same places, the travel experience becomes meaningless.
In January, the virus was still happening somewhere else. It was just background noise on the news. No one was listening to the warnings, much less wanted to hear what the experts had to say.
In retrospect, how scary close together we were in that airport. It makes me cringe to think about the exchange of garden variety germs we shrugged off as part of the flying experience. The Asians were the only ones wearing masks, but we thought the virus was only "their problem." Little did we know how drastically our lives would change in a few months.
People have short memories, and the airports will surely fill up again. Of course, some people haven't even stopped traveling during the pandemic for different reasons.
Much as I'm aching to hug my Dad and sister again, it doesn't feel like the right thing. It's a huge disappointment that we're stuck at home for John's first year of retirement, when we hoped to be free as birds.
But this too shall pass. Guess what? October 29th is "Hermit Day," a time to embrace and celebrate the reclusive way of life.
Hey, I think I know that guy!
And mine is definitely not puzzles. In fairness, some of that might be lack of practice. In the Before Time, I was too busy to sit down and puzzle over puzzles. I thought that was something for elderly bored people! Well old girl, welcome to the club.
So last week I bought myself this 300-piece puzzle for practice. I know, I know, a smart kid could knock it off in an hour. But is there a law that says puzzles have to be diabolically difficult to be "fun?" Beginners must begin somewhere.
The person I live with (who happens to be very good at puzzles) snickers and makes snarky comments as he walks by, like "some people just can't see what's in front of them." Or my favorite, "I guess some people's minds work in different ways." Indeed they do, and anyone who has been married a long time knows this.
Between the seasons changing, the election, and the depressing pandemic raging on, this week feels weirdly suspended time. I've lived a long time, and have never experienced anything remotely like this.Thank goodness for cute rabbit puzzles. Keep believing the pieces will fit back together again someday.
This gorgeous tree is a Red Oak, native to the northeast U.S. The trunk is 14 feet in diameter and the canopy well over 100 feet wide.
It's one of a handful of so-called heritage trees remaining in Seattle. It was planted in 1911 at the Hiawatha Playfield, designed by the Olmstead Brothers (of New York Central Park fame). The Red Oak is beautiful in every season, but turns a spectacular red and gold in the fall.
Seattle heritage trees like this Red Oak have been located and cataloged by "tree librarians" in a project called The Last 6,000.
I'm in my third season now walking past it almost daily. I'm reading Richard Powers' Pulitzer Prize winning novel, "The Overstory," and it's made me more aware of these miraculous large trees. The book is a dense story, weaving together detailed natural science with different fictional characters.
"The Overstory" theme is somewhat similar to his earlier book, "The Gold Bug Variations," that intertwines the discovery of the structure of DNA with the musicality of Bach. To say he is an "interesting writer" is an understatement.
As the dominate species with the highly developed brain, we are surprisingly ignorant of the intelligence that exists in all things, and makes complex life on earth possible.
I highly recommend "The Overstory" even though it isn't a quick, easy read. I find myself stopping often, just to savor the fine writing and his beautiful, intricate descriptions of the different tree species.
Remember this Chinese proverb?
“The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.”
A nicely trimmed hedge! Mr. Nguyen's worker (slave?) did the entire job alone in about 4 hours. And raked up all the clippings in the rain and wind. He set a new record for speed, and with just a ladder managed to get the top straighter than a brace of bored arborists in a bucket truck.
So this morning we have a nice view of the big RV parked right in front of our house. The city doesn't enforce illegal street parking now, and many homeless people live in their RV's. (Not one of my favorite things.)
If they move along later, we'll see fresh snow in the Olympic Mountains. It's a clear, cold, windy morning in Seattle. A real winter weather day in October.
Have a good weekend.
Mr. Nguyen sent this flier in the mail, and I tried him out edging the sidewalk. We don't have that particular tool, and it hadn't been done for many years.
"Professional Oriental Gardeners" are Mr. Nguyen's words, which I thought was amusing. Oriental is such a pretty and evocative word, especially when referring to gardens.
I remember when it was still OK to say things like "Oriental food." Of course, that's no longer politically correct. Orientals are carpets, not people. Nguyen is a common Vietnamese name, like Smith. It is pronounced something like "when."
Anyway, after the sidewalk job, Mr. Nguyen was suddenly keen to trim the hedge. This always makes me nervous, having had so many crazy experiences with hedge cutters. We actually used another Mr. Nguyen once, perhaps his grandfather?
For the last 3 years, we've hired an expensive but efficient arborist company. They come with a bucket truck, massive chipper and hefty men who make fast work of it. The kind of guy who can saw off the top of a huge tree with a cigarette hanging in his mouth. A laurel hedge is easy, boring work for them. Their bill is quite painful, but the process is quick.
They are definitely not fine "Oriental gardeners" but do a decent enough job. With the bucket truck, they were able to lower the top by several feet and I could see the Olympic Mountains from my desk for the first time.
Anyway, Mr. Nguyen, like so many prideful landscapers before him, took a quick look and announced it was "not big deal very." Then he gave me a ridiculously low bid, about a quarter of what the arborist company charges.
I should have jumped on it, but hey, I still have a heart. Besides, we've had guys who gave up and walked off the job, declaring their own bid wasn't worth the work and trouble. (That hedge has beaten some strong men.)
So I pointed out to Mr. Nguyen how very wide the top is, emphasized how very much we wanted off, and practically begged him to charge more. He added a few dollars to the bid.
Anyway, he was warned. He is coming today. Full report later.
The classic gruesome look never goes out of style...
Well, this is the extent of our Halloween decorations. My old wooden skeleton by the backdoor. He rattles and bangs like a ghost in the wind.
The health department strongly advises against trick-or-treating, for obvious reasons. Some people are coming up with creative, social distancing ways to connect the kids and the candy. Baskets from balconies, that sort of thing.
But honestly, the whole fun of Halloween is opening the door and seeing the little ones so excited in their costumes. This might be the year when we just turn off the front porch light.
Weird weather yesterday. The morning started out bright and sunny, but around noon a sudden dark storm dumped some impressive hail. It came out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast.
The TV weather lady said to enjoy the last "lukewarm sunshine" today, because a real winter storm blows through tomorrow, bringing the first heavy snow to the mountains and foothills.
The hail knocked down tons of fresh leaves across the street so today is a good day for bed mulching. I didn't cut everything to the ground as usual, but left the sedums and other plants just go natural for the winter. It just seemed like too much work right now, and it's better for the birds and insects anyway. I'll tidy up early next year. "Spring 2021" has a hopeful ring to it, yes?
The geraniums were looking pretty tired, so I filled the kitchen window box with pretty yard foliage for fall.
Each day, I try to do three simple things: doodle something in my sketchbook, pick up the ukulele for a half hour practice, and listen to one Great Courses lecture. I'm working through a rather challenging course on formal logic.
Still, these are basically recreational activities, and I don't know why a simple discipline requires so much effort. Seems like the more time you have, the less you do, and the harder it becomes. The Law of Inertia?
My sister and I were talking about how tired we get now after running just a few errands. We used to go non-stop all day. With the masks, social distancing and general air of anxiety, life is pretty exhausting. Hope we can get our mojo back when this is finally over.
I'm working hard outside, so I guess that counts. The big dahlias are finished, and I cut a final vase of summer beauties. In August, I ordered fragrant oriental lilies from Michigan Bulb Company. We had beautiful ones once, but they pooped out over the years. The bulbs finally came in the mail, thrown unceremoniously on the porch in a plastic bag. They were mostly OK and I got them planted, then started mulching with leaves from the huge maple tree across the street.
It's my least favorite chore of the year, but satisfying when the beds are finally put to bed for a few short months.
Sadly, "our" lovely tree is slowly dying. The ground is littered with dead branches making it hard to rake, and big sections don't even leaf out anymore.
There might still be a way for the school district to save it, if they noticed or cared before it's too late. From our living room, the tree is beautiful in all seasons, especially when it blocks the hot afternoon sun in the summer. I'm reading Richard Powers deep book about trees, called "The Overstory." It's giving me a lot to think about. So much we take for granted until it's gone forever.
Did you know, there is as much tree living below ground as there is above?
Good thing all my devices have calendars. The days of the week blend together, and suddenly you notice the month is already half gone. The days roll by, uneventful but really not unpleasant, once you lower your expectations. And we've had 8 months to practice that.
I've been thinking about memory lately. Of course, "losing it" is one of the great fears of old age. You forget what you had for dinner last night, but vivid memories from long ago can be recalled perfectly, right down to taste and smell. The mind becomes a cluttered closet and the big picture gets lost.
Speaking of clutter, many of us went though a cleaning out stage early in the pandemic, but months later the stuff starts to creep back.
Some of it still lingering from the Before Time, like the basket of reusable shopping bags I haul around in the car, even though we can't use them. Why? Now there's bags of nasty plastic in the laundry room I need to take back to the grocery store for recycling.
“Out of clutter, find simplicity. From discord, find harmony. In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.”
― Albert Einstein
From the mouth of a genius.
Have a good weekend, dear friends and family.
A bowl of cherry tomatoes. From the plant that keeps on giving. Hat's off (I guess) to the bio-engineering that creates these new Frankenstein varieties. "Sweet 100 Cherry Tomato" used to mean about 100, but this plant had thousands. The "Mater Magic" fertilizer made a difference, plus our nighttime temperatures are still relatively warm for mid-October.
Oh boy. The news. As the virus spread accelerates, the outlook is quite scary for winter. All we can do is hunker down and figure out how take care of ourselves, and not go completely nuts. Or become winos. Or gain 20 pounds. Etc. etc.
Like everyone, after 8 long months I miss so many things. Hugs and handshakes, family and friends around the table, coffee shops and restaurants, concert halls and singing! ukulele groups, vacations, interesting volunteer job, recreational shopping, smiling uncovered mouths, carefree airports and airplanes. My husband with a fresh haircut in a real shirt. I told him (in the nicest possible way) he's looking like Larry of the Three Stooges with that hair. Yes, quarantine brings out the cruelty in married couples. Ha!
But as my spouse wisely says, "What's the point of complaining about things you can't change?" Hopefully this sad experience gives us appreciation someday for these taken-for-granted things. Pandemics must eventually end. Right?
Speaking of getting my own little world in order, I tackled the spice cabinets yesterday. Well, "cabinet" is a nice word for these black holes, made worse by the collection of old, dusty bottles of stale spices hogging up space. Every inch of space counts in this kitchen.
Today is about outside work- it's the last dry one for quite a while.
We had a fierce windstorm in Seattle yesterday afternoon and our power went off from 4 pm until almost 9 pm. That's the longest power outage I can remember in 40 years of living here.
Like the outage a few weeks ago, we were right on the edge of the big "unlucky" power grid, and could see our neighbor's lights shining happily across the street. That hurt. This outage affected many thousands of people living on Alki beach and in the north Admiral district, including some major grocery stores. Oh, dear.
Our West Seattle community blog, never at a loss for comments, was immediately jammed with individual stories of woe that people felt the need to share.
I was bored enough to read some, and was stuck how many people come home from work with no idea what they'll have for dinner, or worse, nothing in the house to eat. So there was much discussion and frantic driving around in the wind looking for restaurants still open for takeout.
It's kind of funny, but also alarming thinking about would happen in a real disaster if we were without power or heaven forbid water for days.
I was making teriyaki pork in the oven when the lights went out, so it was a simple thing to finish cooking it on top of the stove. (Thank, you gas.)
My main concern was our precious little freezer, absolutely stuffed with all kinds of good things. It was a relief when everything hummed back to life. Everything feels abnormal now, so even small disruptions of routine seem much more anxiety producing.
The chickens, so far at least, are fine after their rain shower. In fact, Amanda said they looked "nice and clean" the next morning.
Well, they've only had dust baths all summer, and never felt real rain. Who can blame them? Animals do things that seem silly to us, but we should give them more credit for basic survival instincts. Birds have been walking around in the rain for a long time.
The wild birds in our yard are ecstatic when it rains after a dry period. They should be happy today, because it's just pouring. There's nothing nicer than waking up, or going to sleep to the sound of rain. But it means another long day spent inside.
Well, there's always cooking. The sou chef can slice vegetables for some beef soup made with that leftover Sunday pot roast.
And this box of organic pears from eastern Washington is almost ripe for chutney. I have plenty of jars, and fortunately a few lids left.
I went to our local hardware store to buy a more, and the canning aisle was completely cleaned out. There's price gouging on Amazon and Ebay for usually cheap lids and bands. Home canning must be the latest pandemic fad.
That's Dad with Doodles (as usual) in his lap, relaxing on the patio Sunday morning. In Las Vegas, the fall season is eagerly anticipated, just like our spring. After being trapped inside for many hot months, the doors and windows open again and the air conditioner finally goes off.
The sweet season begins in the desert, with cool evenings and daytime highs in the 80's. Winter gets chilly, but for now both the furnace and air conditioning are silent. And those lucky snowbirds head back to the southwest.
My sister has been on a real tear, getting the outside of her house painted and the patio spiffed up from top to bottom. An inviting sight compared to our soggy, depressing October garden.
Another sure sign of fall-- Nova and Maya helping load firewood on their property outside Twisp. They look so happy and willing, were bribes involved?
A wet hen. Nova took this picture of "Lemon." It rained yesterday for the first time in ages, and they didn't have the good sense to go in their house. I hope they don't catch colds.
For us, a quiet home weekend as usual. Wet and breezy both days, but I still managed to get my walks in. Good thing, with the way we eat around here. We had a beef pot roast for Sunday dinner and watched our crazy football team. Instead of potatoes, I made homemade German spaetzle with gravy.
