Fig

We can thank the scorching summer and climate change for a couple of ripe figs. I found them yesterday, a first. No one believes it when they see that big tree covered with green figs, but they never fully ripen. Not in 40 years. Only the starlings eat them, and in fact a noisy flock was fighting over the best ones yesterday. 

There is nothing so tasty as a good fig. Or so bad as a bad one. Anyway, that's it for another year. The weather has turned cold and dark just in time for October. In a few weeks this mass of vegetation and green figs will fall to the ground in a big soggy mess.

 

Careful what you wish for

 

 

In western Washington, early fall is like a second spring. The rain finally soaks the parched ground while the temperature stays fairly warm. All the plants, including the weeds, spring to life and everything looks fresh again. It's incredible how fast the brown landscape turns green, and now stays green for the winter. The opposite of most parts of the country.

I don't clean up the garden all at once anymore, I physically can't do it. I used to obsessively cut everything back to the ground in October, and then haul cart loads of leaves to build up a thick mulch on the beds.The worms and birds loved it.

It was never a fun job, and now worse with construction across the street, not to mention the poor old Silver Maple (the source of leaves) is slowly dying. The dead twigs and small branches on the ground make raking too hard. I have such affection for that tree, the perch of countless bird flocks and shading our house from the afternoon sun for over 40 years. Nothing can ever replace it, at least not in my lifetime.

Anyway, I'll see if Mr. Nguyen will deliver a load of compost for mulch. That should do the trick. We need bring in the big expensive boys this winter for tree pruning. The Leyland Cypress, quite an impressive hedge, the holly tree and palm tree fronds need trimming, those about 30 feet above the ground.  What happened? Not long ago, I did it with a step ladder.

Sometimes I walk by dark houses that are completely encased by out-of-control trees and vegetation. Easy to see how that happens and tempting. 

Considering this view from the kitchen window, let the Cypress grow another 10 feet up and they would be happy to oblige. Then they would be going through the power lines-- a new kind of city problem. 

How pointless it is, complaining about things you have no control over. But whenever I glance out the window (about 100 times a day) there's sometime offensive about this roof looming over our private space. This is a "backyard cottage" in progressive Seattle.  I suspect the neighbors on either side feel the same way. 

 

Reading weather

 

 

The early mornings are suddenly so dark and chilly, there's not much reason anymore to jump out of bed. I woke up too early today, turned up the furnace and listened to the Ezra Klein Show podcast, a long and interesting interview with the author Richard Powers. 

His new book is called "Bewilderment." His last novel, "The Overstory" won the Pulitzer Prize. Many readers described it as life changing, in particular, a completely new way to view trees and the natural world.

Two other excellent authors also have books just coming out:  Jonathan Franzen's "Crossroads," and the long-anticipated third novel by Amor Towles called "The Lincoln Highway." Lots to look forward to in the reading department this fall.

The new not normal

 

In the before time, this area of Benaroya Hall would have been jammed with people enjoying lunch or coffee before the concert.  The restaurants and concessions were all closed yesterday.

We had to show proof of vaccination AND matching ID to enter. Most of us seniors, it's hard imagining that demographic going to the trouble of faking vaccination cards to see a classical concert! But still, we appreciated the efforts to help people feel safer.

I was apprehensive, not because I'm so worried about getting sick anymore, but because we had not been downtown Seattle for almost 2 years. Between the bridge closure and the pandemic, there just wasn't any compelling reason to go. 

Anyway, not knowing what to expect, we left the house at noon for the 2 pm concert. Go figure-- then we just breezed through the detour.

It was raining, and I guess most people were home watching the Seahawks lose on TV. Another painful game we missed, now that was a blessing. We parked in the usual garage and even had time to meet up with our friends at the gelato shop. Still open, although now serving in disposable cups. So almost like the old days.

The hall was about half full with die-hard, mostly elderly season ticket holders. Everyone wore masks of course, including the musicians. Except when they were blowing. It was a fairly short program but enjoyable.

The biggest change was downtown Seattle. All around Benaroya Hall, a sad sight of boarded up businesses and once nice restaurants, tents on the sidewalks, filthy alleys and homeless people. Many unfortunates on drugs or mentally deranged. I didn't take this picture, but it's a pretty typical view. Our once beautiful Seattle has become a place you want to get out of as fast as possible.

Anyway, here's some pictures from a happier place...

Maya already modeling her Halloween costume. And Nova, on a family hike yesterday.

Back to the city

 

It's time to turn the place over to the turkeys again-- although we're the trespassers, as far as they're concerned. 

The weather this week was absolute September perfection and I'm glad my brother could visit at such a nice time. Not hot, not cold and crystal blue skies. The summer smoke seems like a distant nightmare now. It's probably a good thing humans have short memories.

We won't be back to the house until sometime in October, and by then you'll need to be bundled up to sit outside. Soon the cottonwoods will lose their leaves, revealing a winter view of the hills across the river. The seasons, they go round and round. 

With Tom's expert help, I got the irrigation system turned off. Our neighbor offered to blow out the lines with his compressor before it gets cold, so that's that until next next spring. Now the municipal water bill goes down and the PUD bill goes up as the furnace starts to cycle on. 

Saturday is the best day of the week in Twisp, with lots of people in town for the Saturday market. There's also an Art Walk this afternoon, the first since the fires put an end to most outdoor summer activities.  I hate missing it, but need to drive back to Seattle this morning.  

After almost two years, we have tickets to an in-person Symphony concert tomorrow afternoon. So much has changed since then, not to mention our nasty detour to get downtown. You have to show proof of vaccination to enter the hall, and of course wear a mask at all times. Other than that, we don't know what to expect. I'll tell you about it on Monday.

Have a good weekend.

Weather perfection

 

What's not to like about September? Cool nights and warm sunny days.

One day you turn around, and it's summer
Next day you turn around, and it's fall
And the springs and the winters of a life time
Whatever happened to them all

As a man who has always had the wandering ways
Now I'm reaching back for yesterdays
'Til a long forgotten love appears
And I find that I'm sighing softly as I near September
The warm September of my years.

 

From the lovely old song "The September of My Years," written by Sammy Cahn and made famous by Frank Sinatra.  

A short walk this afternoon on Amanda and Tom's property outside Twisp.

 

 

And a 7th grade volleyball tournament last night. That's Nova, in the center on the left.

Autumn arrives

The Western Larch is an unusual conifer that only grows at elevations of 1,600- 8,000 feet in the Northwest. Seeing large stands of evergreens turn yellow and drop their needles is a strange sight on the mountain passes. They are beautiful on a sunny day, but if you didn't know better, you would swear they are dying off.

Fall is certainly in the air. The afternoons are still warm but the nights chilly. It was colder inside the house than out when I got here, and I opened the windows to warm things up. This morning the furnace is running. 

Everyone is busy with school, work and activities. Looking forward to my  brother visiting for a couple days, and we'll just go with the flow. The house looks nice. I brought a full car over again, and we have just about everything we need. This time John, I really mean it.

Shine on

 

The skies cleared out just in time for the full harvest moon. This is the Chinese Moon Festival, a holiday second only to Chinese New Year and famous for sharing moon cakes.  Everyone should try a moon cake. 

 

 

One taste might last a lifetime. The crust is usually made with lard, and inside there's a thick filling of bean paste (or other things) along with yolks from salted duck eggs. That unusual combination of sweet, bland and salty so strange to American palates. 

 

Many years ago, the Asian women John worked with gave us an entire box of moon cakes. Now that was a long-lasting gift. 

 

It's a nice fall day for driving over the mountains. If only this was June, I'd be on the road about now. Now I'm waiting until the first crush of traffic dies down and it gets light. 

Fall

Officially not until Wednesday, but it sure felt like it this weekend. We had a strong storm for September, with heavy rain, wind and power outages north and south of Seattle. Everything looks fresh again after so many dry months. The grass (mostly moss) started to green up overnight.

I made chicken Parmesan yesterday, which is quite a bit of work but so good. Almost as good as eggplant Parmesan. Anyway, it killed time in the kitchen while the football game droned on all afternoon. 

It looked like the Seahawks had their home opener in the bag, and we could almost hear the fans from here. Then suddenly they didn't, and lost to the Titans in nail-biting overtime. That's our team. I was trying to watch all this drama at the critical moment the chicken was under the broiler to finish.

It was fine. No, I did not take a bite out of that piece in frustration. 

Anyway, that was pretty much our weekend. 

I'm going to Twisp for a few days this week while the weather is still nice. We won't get back again until sometime in mid-October to finish up the winterizing chores.

 

Brave

 

What a nice crop of hot peppers. We picked all the red ones yesterday and I made a jar of refrigerator pickled peppers-- wonder if anyone is brave enough to try them!  

We're making pork chili with white beans today, which sounds like a good thing on a stormy, wet weekend.  Maybe diced on top with cheese. 

After a scorching summer, starting to think about fall cooking. Last night roast chicken slathered with garlic butter. John said it was the best he ever had. I bought some locally grown garlic in Central Washington, and wow, what a difference. Sweet and juicy and tastes nothing like the stale Chinese garlic from the grocery store. Yes, China produces over 75% of the world's garlic. 

Other than the weather, not much news up here in the left hand corner of the country. Despite our relatively high vaccination rates (at least in western Washington) we have not escaped the Covid hospital crisis. If you're unfortunate to have an accident or heart attack, good luck. Between the millions of people who already had Covid and the millions who have been vaccinated, it seems impossible there are still so many people left to infect. Will it ever end? 

Waiting

 

Everything seems to be holding its breath, waiting for a drink. The rain show starts tomorrow, although the yard is baked so hard it will take several good soakings to penetrate. John cleaned the gutters yesterday. The crows eat bread and peanuts up there and leave the shells. I stopped feeding them long ago, but they still come here with their stash.

What to do with that giant stag horn fern? It would take up the entire greenhouse window. As far as plants go, it's more weird-looking than attractive. And then the jade plants on the front porch come inside at some point...

The usual fall garden chores. Not close to freezing here yet, but I see Twisp has a frost warning this morning. It was so dark early this morning, I was sure it was cloudy. But no, one more nice bright morning before the storm.

 

Famine or feast

 

 

Since early June, Seattle has measured only 0.13 inches of rain.  Certainly, the driest summer I can remember. That's about to change, with the first real storm of the season headed our way, a weekend deluge expected to bring several inches of rain. In the high mountains above 6,000 feet, the first snow. The moisture and colder temperatures mark the end of the fire season in Washington. Yea.

I asked my son-in-law to run down to the house and turn off the irrigation, which has been merrily spraying our small lawn with expensive municipal water all summer. There's no sadder sight in this (mostly) parched world than a sprinkler running in the pouring rain.  

Our neighbor owns an air compressor, and generously offered to blow out our irrigation system when the temperature drops. That's an essential step to protect the underground lines from freezing. One by one, checking off the tasks.  

October is a super busy month, with two big trips and hopefully squeeze in a few days in Twisp. Last spring, in a moment of optimism, I reserved our favorite place in Palm Springs for the first week of October.  With vaccinations off to a roaring start, I thought the pandemic would be a distant memory by fall. As John likes to say, "that's what you get for thinking." Then around Halloween, I'm looking forward to seeing my dad and sister in Las Vegas. More than ever, we need to treasure the time we have together.

Does it spark joy?

 

 

I took a picture of the closet in Twisp before I left. I forget what I've got over there, and then bring the wrong things back. Anyway, time to stock the winter closet with old sweaters and woolly socks.

We bought some furniture from the former owner, but it's been interesting decorating a new house almost from scratch. I mean, actually putting some thought into it, instead of random accumulation. That famous PBS home tidier, Marie Kondo, says if you pick something up and it doesn't "spark joy" then out it goes.

Our home here is stuffed with 40+ years of living. It's a old charming place, with the emphasis on old. When I get home, the first thing that strikes me is how much we have, even though I took some of the "sparky" things over to Twisp, along with the extras. You really don't need 10 tablecloths in one place.

The drive back was nice yesterday on an early fall morning. John had my back the whole way in the new Honda. I hate using cruise control, so I'm not much fun to follow as I dilly dally along in the right hand lane.

I especially like the first 100 miles going down the Methow Valley and then along the Columbia River (what's left of it) to Wenatchee. The terrain is so beautiful and perplexing, I always wish I had a geologist in the car.  As I've said before, it puts us puny humans into perspective.

They were just starting to pick apples around Wenatchee. The pear crop was good, but don't know how well the apples did in such a scorching summer.  The Walla Walla famers said their sweet onions actually baked in the ground. 

Well, back to other home chores today. It's a sunny day in Seattle, but a fairly potent rainstorm coming just in time for the weekend.

On the town

 

Maya is almost old enough to ride her bike down the hill to our house alone. I said maybe next year. 

Having grown up here, Twisp really is these girl's oyster. During the Saturday market, Nova and her friend walked around and went to the bakery and thrift shop by themselves. That was a first and pretty exciting for the young ladies. You can't imagine 12-year olds doing that in Seattle. Twisp is a small town and everyone knows everyone, which of course has it's advantages and disadvantages.

As the seasons change, so does the wildlife. I watched a pair of Belted Kingfishers fighting over the river, one of the noisiest birds in existence, putting the jays to shame. They are solitary hunters and compete over fishing territory. 

Mergansers float by on the river, a lovely waterfowl with bright red crested heads. The turkeys are always hanging around, practically domestic. They look at us, like what are you doing in OUR yard? They sit on the neighbor's picnic table preening in the morning sun. I think of Thanksgiving dinner, but probably nothing like a Butterball.

What else? Haven't had many deer lately. They ate my trees and left. It will be interesting to see if more hang out in town during hunting season. 

The week flew by, back to Seattle tomorrow. This will be a different view in a couple of weeks, with the river cottonwoods turning yellow and losing their leaves. By the end of the month, the nighttime temperatures down in the 30's. We'll turn off the irrigation for the season and wrap up our winterizing chores.  Snow in October is not unusual in the valley.

River Witch

 

That's the sign the former owner posted on the trail that crosses our property to the river. I think the rules are quite reasonable, considering folks are basically trespassing. 

We joke about the "community beach" but that's what it was, until this house was built in 2017. That put an end to the drunk parties, bon fires, commercial boat launching, etc. but nothing is harder to change than precedence, once established. 

So the locals still come down, especially on hot afternoons. And we've met some nice neighbors. It's a big river, so why here? Well, the Methow running through town is mostly rocky high bank or private property owned by people less generous. There's only a few places to easily access the water or haul in and out.

From our master bathroom, we have a view of the river through the glass shower door. Pretty sweet, because there's rarely anyone out there in the morning. 

But yesterday when I got out of the shower, there was woman in front of the house yakking on her cell phone (really?) while a dog ran everywhere. Loose dogs scare the wildlife and poop. Sometimes they bite.

That was the trigger to bring the old witch out of her river house. I put my wet hair in a pony tail and went out to say hello. The dog of course ran up and jumped all over me. She said her dog "loved our beach" I suppose thinking I would take pleasure in that.  I just smiled and said politely we prefer that dogs stay on a leash on our property. She looked sorry and soon left. I was not sorry.

So, John thinks I should have a flag to raise on the house to warn people when the River Witch is in residence. Like the Queen at Windsor Castle. Ha.

Well, I'm off to take Maya to the library. Nova is with her best friend this morning and Amanda working at home. No school today, another service day for the teachers and headache for the parents.

Turkeys and other stuff

September really is a lovely month in the Northwest.  You wish it would last forever. We need rain, but this seemingly endless string of mild, dry days has spoiled us. What a memorable summer, in many ways. So often, October feels like a curtain coming down. I don’t look forward to the dark time. 

As usual, once I left Seattle (an hour from our house just to the freeway) the solo drive was OK. It always feels good getting out of Seattle. When I finally got to the downtown exit for I-90, a crazy person was running through the stop and go traffic in the middle of the freeway. No one paid the slightest attention. Between the homeless camps, the graffiti and trash, the traffic and noise, Seattle feels more and more dystopian. 

After the long drive, pulling into this little place by the river is a haven of peace. Despite all expense and hassles (endless!) of owning a second home, nothing compares to that wonderful feeling of opening the door and finding everything just as you left it. Once I got the car unloaded and things put away, I realized we have just about everything we need now to be comfortable.  Enough, but not too much.

The girls only have a half day of school Wednesdays, to the great annoyance of working parents. I picked them up yesterday, and chatted with the grandma of Maya's best friend, also on duty. Karen lives just down the street. She is a lovely person and we hit it off. What a pleasant surprise making new friends at this stage of life. I've met many nice people in Twisp already, including our neighbor who will plow the driveway this winter.  A relief to check that off the to-do list. 

Wildlife. The deer ate some young trees the previous owner planted by the garage. Goners. The turkey family still doing their turkey thing, the kids nearly as big as the parents. Otters live across the river in the bank, and I saw one swim over to "our" beach for the first time. We jokingly refer to it as the "Twisp community beach." The river is as low as it gets now, and there are fishermen passing by, trying to coax trout out of their hidey-holes.  

John gets here tomorrow, his first big spin in the new Honda. All is well.

Peck of peppers

 

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers;
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked;
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

Peter and his famous pickled peppers first appeared in John Harris's Peter Piper's Practical Principles of Plain and Perfect Pronunciation, 1813.

That's an easy one. The toughest English tongue twister? “The sixth sick sheikh's sixth sheep's sick" according the the Guinness Book of World Records.

A big tomato crop from just two potted plants, and now hundreds of little hot peppers all turning fiery red.  One or two sure perks up a stir fry or noodle dish.

 

In other rather depressing news. How many people can you cram on an "island" in the middle of a transportation bridge crisis? 

This is what passes for a "backyard cottage" in Seattle. A big ugly box looming up over the most private part of our yard. Bang, bang, bang all weekend long.

Silly me, I planted those Leyland Cypress to block the view of condos a couple blocks away, as if that mattered. I never imagined something going up right across the alley. Our new view from the deck.

That's OK.  I'm headed over to the other deck for a few days, where the view is nothing but peace and quiet.  

Another birthday boy

 

Happy Birthday, John. And congratulations on the first new car you've bought in many years. This weekend we traded in "Little Beep" our old CRV for "Big Beep," a Honda Passport with all the bells and whistles.

And good thing you're a smart guy, because the user guide is over 450 pages long.

Did someone say snow? Ha! 

A special birthday

 

Happy Birthday, Dad!  You've kept that same great smile for 97 years now. Have a wonderful day, topped off with a nice glass of wine and your favorite pepperoni pizza. We're thinking of you and Marji with love and much gratitude.

Backyard cottage

 

 

That's an example of a fairly attractive backyard cottage. Most look more like oversize chicken coops. It's called an ADU (accessory dwelling unit.) 

The permitting process is complicated and expensive, but Seattle encourages homeowners to build them to supposedly help with the affordable housing crisis. I don't know about that, because they start at about $300,000.  I think people do it because they want extra space, and it transforms single family homes into a property income asset.

Anyway, they're building one right behind us on the alley. We don't know these neighbors or what they intend to do with their cottage. That's pretty typical in this very dense (and somewhat unfriendly) neighborhood. 

They tore out a good new garage to make space for the cottage, which bothered me because our pitiful "garage" is ready to fall down. The construction workers show up late in the day (John thinks they're on overtime) so the banging starts when we sit down to dinner. 

This is not a quiet place!  On the west side, construction started on the big new school addition. The kids are back in school with all the extra traffic that goes with that. Late at night, you can hear the trains and shipping down on Harbor Island. And usually a car speeding by 60 mph after the bars close. No wonder my ears ring in Twisp at night. What's that strange little sound? Just the river talking to itself...

A soft and gleaming season

 

September already? The hottest, driest summer on record gently draws to a close. 

No wonder so many poignant songs and poems have been written about September. 

When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.

Julian Barnes
From "Flaubert's Parrot"

 Absolute September

How hard it is to take September
straight—not as a harbinger
of something harder.

Merely like suds in the air, cool scent
scrubbed clean of meaning—or innocent
of the cold thing coldly meant.

How hard the heart tugs at the end
of summer, and longs to haul it in
when it flies out of hand

at the prompting of the first mild breeze.
It leaves us by degrees
only, but for one who sees

summer as an absolute,
Pure State of Light and Heat, the height
to which one cannot raise a doubt,

as soon as one leaf's off the tree
no day following can fall free
of the drift of melancholy.

-Mary Jo Salter 

 

 From the late Washington Post garden columnist Henry Mitchell:  

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.