Winter sun

 

I already feel nostalgic about our sunset view from the front porch. A new, two-story school addition is eventually going up, about where those portables are now. Who knows when, but it's definitely coming. 

Also, just down the hill on the play field, they're installing tall, extra bright floodlights for city wide evening sports. More lights, more noise, more people, more traffic. 

The city solicits comments from the adjacent homeowners on these projects, but by then, the planning process is already so far along that's just a formality. Who cares about the old house on the corner with the precious peek view. We don't have zoning restrictions for height in West Seattle. In fact, in the urban village, the taller, the denser, the better.  Too many small houses on large, wasteful yards. 

But for now, the big brick school is as quiet as Pharaoh's tomb. Nice in a way, but just too strange. Seattle Public Schools might stay on remote learning for the rest of the school year.  So sad, with all these children out to sea.

It was beautiful yesterday after the morning fog burned off. I'm trying to add hills and distance to my sauntering 2-mile loop. I'm lazy when it comes to pushing myself hard physically. Besides, whenever I do, something new starts to hurt. I'm plagued lately with intermittent heel pain, a common problem according to Dr. Google.  

A few years ago, I went to a podiatrist for the first time. The old guy was so interested in my genetically strange feet (Harvey toe, etc.) it was almost flattering. Well, CBD cream and Epsom salt will have to do.  I'm not going back to that small office at the height of the pandemic. 

After we get through a rainy Monday, it looks like a stretch of dry weather this week. Maybe we'll go out and get a small Christmas tree tomorrow. Other than that, we are home, home, home. 

Nice tree

 

Nothing is more idyllic than cutting your own Christmas tree, especially with the North Cascades wilderness in your backyard.  Of course, wild trees always look much bigger when you get them in the house. Tom had a challenge getting this one into the stand.

The North Cascades highway is closed for the season, but you can park at the "end of the road" a few miles outside of Winthrop, then hike or ski to your heart's content. Amanda, Tom and the girls usually meet up with other families and make a afternoon of it.

A nice tradition with kids and dogs everywhere. The girls are on the Nordic ski team this year, so they really cover some ground. 

"Nica" is horrible to walk in her harness leash, yanking constantly on dry ground, but on the snow she loves pulling the girls along at great speed.  A lanky mutt, ranch born and bred, she's strong and good-natured and runs for miles. Go, "Nica."

We'll get a tree this year as usual at the West Seattle Nursery, but a smaller one.  This will be a very different Christmas.  I'm trying not to be too sad about it, but realized the other day that it's been almost a year now since anyone has visited.  

One to remember

To be honest, the past Thanksgivings have pretty much blended into one big turkey dinner. It's the holidays that are different in some way that stand out in our minds.  No one will ever forget Thanksgiving 2020. 

Lonely?  No time in a day filled with phone calls, Facetime and Zoom sessions, emails and text messages with from friends and family.  

In fact, yesterday goes down as our most social holiday ever. Thanks everyone for sharing your beautiful pictures. Even far apart, we felt very much together.

Maya and sled at their property near Twisp.

Nova and "Nica" striking a noble winter pose.

Sisters and best friends (most of the time!)

The hardworking parents, Tom and Amanda.

 

A peaceful view of the Methow Valley from the top of their hill.

Later, all dressed up for dinner.

 

On to Las Vegas, and a fine meal cooked by my sister Marji.

Dad's smile says it all. 

 

Into the oven

Well, the pie is baking. The turkey follows around 11. The cranberry sauce simmering. It feels strange starting this big dinner alone in the kitchen. Kind of peaceful actually, but sad. No kids downstairs watching television, or a wet dog underfoot, or tired parents looking for morning coffee after a long drive over the mountains. Next year.

I watched the national news while I was baking. Certainly a Thanksgiving of stark contrasts, the pictures like a Twilight Zone show of parallel reality. The airports and highways jammed with travelers ignoring the CDC guidelines, the holiday being too important to give up during a national pandemic crisis.  

But many other people are spending the holiday alone, or staying home and having a quiet day with immediate family. It's hard to know what to make of it, or feel a little resentful.

The worst sight of all? Those long lines of cars, waiting for hours at food banks. We should hang our heads for shame in the richest country on earth.

The U.S. led the world in financial growth this year, thanks to tax cuts and a booming stock market. But the wealth gap between rich and poor is more unequal than in any other country. 

 

Enough hand-wringing.  Pie is out of the oven and smells delicious. 

Dear friends and family, together or apart, you are always in our hearts. Better times are surely ahead. 

What are you thankful for today?  Top on my list: 2020 is almost over.

Thanksgiving memories

That's Nova, basting the turkey in 2018.

My kitchen staff checking out the mashed potatoes.

Little Maya, sweetly underfoot in 2015.

And dear "Roger," The Guardian of the Oven in 2017. We still miss you, buddy. He assumed this important Thanksgiving position after Golden Retrievers "Ricky" and "Lucy" both passed on.

Well, the good memories will have to serve for our solitary Thanksgiving tomorrow.  

I typed "Thanksgiving" in the search box on the top of the blog this morning, and up swooshed over a decade of stories and pictures of food and family.  So nice looking back on how lucky we've been.

Turkey dinners with all the trimmings are a lot of work, just ask anyone who's cooked one from scratch.  But there's nothing especially difficult about the food, other than the last minute gravy and kerfuffle to get everything on the table at once. With enough practice, you can make it look easy.

I've always enjoyed cooking Thanksgiving, because our family genuinely enjoys the traditional and simple dishes: turkey, dressing, potatoes, cranberries, vegetables, rolls, pie for dessert. Everyone chows down happily and the cook feels appreciated.  

Well, tomorrow the menu gets scaled down for two, but what's Thanksgiving without a big turkey? We can enjoy the smell of it roasting all afternoon. 

Oh, yum

 

 

The squirrels are having a good time with my pumpkins. Maybe he's making a house for his wife?

 

Anyway, quite a feeding frenzy going on outside. I'm filling the bird feeder daily to keep up with the gobbling hoards.

Everyone in this yard at least is fat and happy and healthy. What pandemic?

 

On the other side of the mountains, there's been some strife in the hen house.  The flock, for some reason, suddenly decided to gang up on "Basil," the biggest and arguably the prettiest hen. 

Maybe they're jealous of her chubby good looks? They've been systematically pecking her feathers off. Hey, it's COLD over there. It looks like Nova made her a fleece jacket to stay warm.

Then Amanda went to the feed store and bought some chicken "anti-cannibal" cream. I never heard of such a thing.  "Basil" shook the icky purple stuff off all over them.  Hopefully the ladies can work it out.

In other pet news, Nova finally got the gerbil she's been begging for. His name is "Lucky."

And he's going to need all the luck he can get in that house.

 Well, Nica at least looks resigned to life, and settled in for winter in her favorite warm spot.

The big question answered

                                                           

 West Seattle Bridge stabilization project

On the afternoon of March 23, the West Seattle bridge suddenly and shockingly closed to all traffic. The structure was in danger of imminent collapse, and the cracks were rapidly accelerating. 

For the past 9 months, the closure had a horrible impact on travel to and from the peninsula, with drivers enduring long city street detours and delays to reach the freeway or get downtown. 

The bridge is in such bad shape, it must be stabilized before it can even be fixed or replaced.  That work has been going on for several months.

We like input and consensus in Seattle, so a community advisory board was formed and the discussions and studies went on all summer. And there was no lack of opinion, everything from ferries across Elliott Bay to a bicycle-only structure. Who needs a car, anyway?

And now, after a long wait and much input, we finally have the answer. The mayor announced last week that the bridge can be repaired.  Yea!

We could be driving over it again sometime in 2022 (with tolls, of course) even taking into consideration the usual Seattle "planning fallacy."

"The planning fallacy is a phenomenon first proposed in 1979 by Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky that says that you tend to underestimate the time it will take for you to complete a future task, which represents an optimistic bias, meaning an overconfidence in your ability to complete the task within the given time."

Anyway, we finally have a light at the end of a long tunnel. Oops, I better not jinx it with the T word-- remember that 2.8 billion, 12 year project, starring Bertha?

By comparison, surely this repair is a piece of cake?  Time will tell.

The "new" repaired bridge is projected to last between "15-40 years." Which sounds like just a big old guess.  But the mayor mentioned hopefully that by then, everyone will use public transportation anyway. 

 

Beautiful in any season

 

There is something beautiful and majestic about trees without leaves.  The golden canopy is gone now, revealing the mighty structure of the Northern Red Oak heritage tree in Hiawatha Park.

I've been going to this park since 1980, and looked at this tree countless times without really seeing it. We can thank the pandemic for the opportunity to finally appreciate things close to home.

Planted in 1911, this tree stood here through two world wars, the Spanish flu pandemic and the Great Depression. And that was just the beginning of its long life.

 

The rustic West Seattle Junction in 1920, when the peninsula was considered "way out there." A few of these old brick buildings remain, but most have been torn down to build glass and steel condos and apartment buildings. Everything looks the same these days.

Yea! We have a little dry spell coming up, and I'm looking forward to meeting up with a friend for a walk. On Saturday, I'll rake the fig leaves and do a final tidy up before winter really arrives.

Have a good weekend dear family and friends.

Weather most foul

November is typically the wettest and stormiest month of the year and this one is no exception. The weather experts say we're entering a La Nina pattern, which usually means a colder winter. Oh, goody. Last year we got off scot-free with just some frost that didn't even kill the geraniums.

Will it snow in the lowlands? Well, bring it on.  It's not like we're going anywhere.

That's the famous West Seattle turkey hanging out on a construction crane. He's been wandering around our neighborhoods for over a year. His picture appears frequently on the West Seattle Blog, although there hasn't been a spotting for a few months.  Maybe he's hiding out for Thanksgiving?

Speaking of that, yes, I am making a turkey dinner for just the two of us. Which reminds me to make room in the fridge today for the dang thing to start defrosting.  It's way too big, but the smaller Butterballs were sold out and I didn't want to go to another store.  I'll make soup from the carcass and freeze the meat. Turkey enchiladas are good.

Talking to friends, I'm surprised how passionate people are about turkey. From "sublime" to "disgusting." Which brings to mind the wonderful old song by Cole Porter:

You're sublime
You're a turkey dinner
You're the time
Of the Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom
You're the top!

A safe space

The chambered Nautilus is a living fossil that has survived in the Earth's oceans for 500 million years. The chambers spiral from the center outward, just like our own DNA and the cosmos we live in. 

The spiral is the symbol for the philosophy of Hospice.

The spiraled shell invites us to consider the unfolding mysteries of life...this living creature that shows us how to survive by diving deep and still keep ourselves light enough to come to the surface to meet what is in front of us. I believe that the human experience, like the nautilus shell, is an ever-growing spiral that allows us to build on our past experiences in order to meet and learn from the demands of the present moment.

(From Somanautiko website)

I'm halfway through the online volunteer training course.  Each module takes about an hour to complete, and then there's a quiz and additional videos and links to explore later. Yes, it is heavy stuff, but presented in a matter-of-fact way that is not really depressing. But it does slow you down to confront your feelings and fears about suffering and death.

The last module I did was about communication, specifically creating a "safe space" for with the dying person and their family to express whatever they are feeling. That means listening much, much more than you speak.  Listening without judgement or giving advice, interrupting, or interjecting your personal experiences and beliefs.

Most of all, safe space means resisting the urge to try and "fix" things for those who are suffering. Even if you could, it is simply not your role as a volunteer. 

When I was a manager at Microsoft, I was rewarded handsomely for fixing things-- processes, contracts, workflow, etc. It was my job. And not just fixing things, but sometimes breaking them first in order to make them "better." 

In 10 years at Microsoft, I lost track of how many disruptive reorgs we soldiered through in the Information Services Department. Of course, this is the nature of high tech companies in general. Otherwise we would still be running Word 1.0. Ha!

But relationships are a different story. If we control our natural tendency to try and fix things for others, it's a big relief all around.

Remember that wonderful old saying?  "Resign your job as Manager of the Universe."

The seasons, they go round and round

April

October

November

This is the same street through three seasons on my regular walk. Time flies when you're having fun. Last March, it seemed inconceivable that life wouldn't be back normal by fall, with all the sacrifices we made as a community back then.  

 

From the start, Washington and a few other western states were more aggressive with the closures and the stay-at-home orders. This was reflected in our relatively low infection rate for many months. 

 

All that has changed recently. You would never know Seattle is in the midst of a pandemic, other than everyone wearing masks, which seems totally normal now.  There's people sitting inside restaurants and coffee shops, crowding the sidewalks and stores.  Traffic is almost back to regular awful levels, so people are going where they want.

 

The governor just announced new restrictions, and we're taking a big step backwards. It won't affect our lifestyle since we don't go to bars, gyms, eat in restaurants, etc. But for some people this feels like the final straw, and I doubt we'll see the same compliance as last spring. It's a devastating blow to restaurants that were just starting to bounce back. 

There's a lot of angst about Thanksgiving this year. It's just one day, folks. Some people refuse to give up their big family gatherings. Ask yourself, is it really worth it? Even if you think Covid is no big deal, please give a thought to the jammed hospitals and exhausted heath care workers. 

 

We have a hard working nurse in the family. We worry about her out on the front lines, and this gives us a different perspective. When you go to the emergency room with that tummy ache or chest pain, you'll want a kind and caring nurse like Amanda to be there for you. 

First snow in the Methow Valley

The chickens are enjoying the indoor life, with a heated dog dish to keep them warm.  Clever idea, Amanda!

That is "Hey-Hey" I think, taking a spin on the sled with Nova.  Mush, Maya! 

Is there anything more exciting more than the first snow? I remember standing so impatiently while mom dressed us with layers of clothes to go outside and play on the farm. Another time and place for sure, but some things stay the same.

Back in 1953, my sister Marji and me with some of our furry and feathered friends.

And the rains came

 

This little Noah's ark puzzle was fun and appropriate for November. A series of wet storms out in the Pacific Ocean are headed our way for the next week. But the house is warm, cozy and clean. We are well and truly holed up, with everything we need.

John also finished his much more challenging 1,000 piece puzzle and I put them both away. It's restful seeing the dining room table empty for a change, and we're taking a break from puzzling until Thanksgiving or so. 

Anyway, I need to focus attention on other things for a while. I was recently accepted into the volunteer program at Franciscan Hospice and Palliative Care.  The application process was fairly involved. For obvious reasons, volunteers must be carefully screened with background checks and references. Many thanks to my dear friends N. and J. for your help.

Anyway, what initially caught my interest was the Franciscan "life history" program, in which volunteers listen to and record patient stories. 

Why hospice, when I've always avoided anything remotely medical? Well, it just sounded like it might be a good fit. I've always been interested in oral histories and preserving personal history. And what a worthwhile thing, for both patients and their families.

Volunteers are an essential part of hospice, and provide all sorts of services to families and patients. I don't really know what I'll eventually be doing. Or when. Unfortunately, in person volunteer visits are on hold because of the pandemic. 

In the meantime, I can start the training. The first step is completing a 30-hour online program by Teaching Transitions called "Doing Death Differently." At completion you receive a CEOLS (Certified End of Life Specialist) certificate. I have to admit, just the thought of being certified in death is a bit overwhelming!

The on-line course so far is interesting but intense.  Many people claim it is life changing, whether you decide to do hospice work or not. They encourage you complete the course quickly, rather than dabble in and out. There are 10 modules and my goal is to do one each day.  I'll keep you posted. This is all about the journey, not the destination.

 The spiral is a frequently used symbol of hospice:

"It represents the cycle of life; birth, growth, death, and re-incarnation. Spiritually the spiral represents a connectivity with the divine, spiraling from the outer ego (the outside world) into the inner soul (cosmic awareness and enlightenment). The spiral represents evolution and growth of the spirit."

Stocked up

 

We shop at the Costco down on 4th Avenue, the first one to open in the world.  Like Starbucks, Costco was "invented" in Seattle, for better or worse. 

Warehouse shopping was still a big novelty in the early 1980's, and we would drop by for a $1.50 hot dog and soda. Those were the days when you could zip around Seattle without a care in the world. Seattle didn't even have a Home Depot then, just some nice locally owned hardware stores like "Ernst." I am seriously dating myself.

Anyway, I set a personal best yesterday for amount spent in a single shopping trip. Woo-hoo. Not hoarding, just buying the mundane stuff so I don't have to go back for a long time. Other than everyone wearing a masks (which feels normal now) it was business as usual in there. 

Hopefully we've seen the last of the panic buying. People were buying reasonable amounts of stuff, which by Costco standards, of course, is excessive.  The lack of free sample lines clogging the aisles was the most conspicuous change-- no great loss.

I'm glad the little freezer is packed with good things to last us through the holidays. Hopefully the power stays on. We're headed into a long stretch of rough weather, with a series of storms stretching way into next week.  Feet of snow in the mountains, inches of rain and wind in the lowlands. 

Wordless Wednesday

 

 Winter landscapes by Walter Moras