September 2015

 

 Ten years ago this month, Nova was off to first grade and Maya preschool...

Nova learning the ropes with Little Blackie and Annie B, the instructor she still works with. 

Now at sixteen and almost thirteen, long past the cute sister snuggle stage. 

A September outing we took with the family to the suspension bridge in Mazama, the same place Karen and I were last week.

Dolly and I enjoying a fall ride in North Bend on Belle and Spanky...

And most poignant, this photo taken by my sister of Mom and Dad at a Cripple Creek restaurant, celebrating Dad's September birthday. They sure made 91 and 90 look good.  We miss you both so much. 

“Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.”
― Stephen King, The Green Mile 

First day of fall

  

Summer ends, and Autumn comes,
and he who would have it otherwise
would have high tide always
and a full moon every night.

Hal Borland

There are roughly 12 hours of light and 12 hours of darkness today, give or take a few minutes, everywhere on earth: South Pole, North Pole, Australia, Equator, Europe, Florida, Seattle, Siberia, China, yes-- everywhere.   

Not much news here. I'm back in Seattle and trying to get motivated to do some fall yard work while the weather is still warm and dry. The clock is clicking down on the dark time, and for what it's worth, the long-range forecasts for winter 2025–2026 indicate a developing La Nina, meaning cooler and wetter than normal. 

 

Miranda from "The Tempest," by John Waterhouse

 

Won't you be my neighbor

 

 

This is the time of year when deer cut their youngsters loose-- goodbye, good luck to ya. 

Depending on the weather, about half of mule deer fawns survive their first winter. A couple of clueless weanlings have been hanging around the riverfront and sleeping in the cool yard. They look pretty scrawny, and I tossed them a yummy Safeway Everything Cracker and probably the best thing they will ever taste.  

One of the simple pleasures here is watching nature unfold, season after season. The turkey poults, now nearly full grown and acting like teenagers pestering and chattering at each other. I'm amazed how many of those spring fluff balls survive into fall. Well, turkeys have it down:

"Turkeys have been around for millions of years with the earliest turkey-like ancestors appearing about 23-15 million years ago during the early Miocene epoch." (Thank you, AI.)

Everything must change, nothing stays the same, the young become the old, miracles unfold... 

Lyrics that come to mind from a lovely song, especially sung by Karen Alison.

Have a peaceful weekend. The cracker lady is going back to Seattle tomorrow. 

 

 

Nice morning

 

Right before sunrise, the planet Jupiter is the brightest object in the sky, shining through the big window flanked by Orion. In the city, you forget how many stars are up there. 

It's another beautiful summery day. This morning Karen and I drove to Mazama and walked the trail to the Tawlks-Foster Suspension Bridge. We were there once many years ago, when Nova was tearing around on a tiny bike.  

 

That tangle of logs was constructed to create fish habitat in this critical area for spawning. In other words, the end of the river line after a 600 mile journey from the Pacific Ocean. It's an interesting stretch of the Methow, because this time of year, there is no river at all in places. 

But underneath the dry gravel, the water has collected in a huge reservoir a thousand feet deep. 

After our walk we had lunch with the yellow jackets at the popular Mazama Store. 

Yesterday I drove to Omak (about a 75 mile RT) to renew my driver's license. 

You might be wondering why here? Well, it took about 10 minutes start to finish in this little office. I was the only one waiting when the DMV employee unlocked the front door at 8:30. Back in Seattle, you can sit clutching your number for hours with hundreds of other people in a big nasty room. 

So, no problems on my vision test, and it was renewed for 8 years, which was a pleasant surprise. I thought they were stricter with senior citizens renewals, but no argument from me.  

Tenacity

Yesterday morning I took a solo hike to the top of Mill Hill above Twisp, also known as Cross Hill. The steep trail has about 2,300 feet elevation, so I obviously have to pace myself.  But what's the rush, with beautiful views in every direction?

 

 

Near the top, I found a little rock perch to sit and rest, looking down the street where we live. 

 

My tail was dragging by the time I got back to the car-- but counting my blessings with almost 10,000 steps logged on the watch. 

 

Near the parking lot, I walked past my nemesis, the Russian Thistle (AKA common tumbleweed.) The enormous plants were happily thriving on fill dirt in the hot sun. The single strong tap root provides all nourishment until it breaks free and scatters its seed bounty across the landscape. You have to admire that kind of plant tenacity and genius. 
 

 

Ship without a sail

 

 

When I got to the house yesterday afternoon the Internet was down. Dang. I hate diving into that kludge (as John calls it) of mysterious little boxes and wires under the shelf. 

However, through blundering necessity, I've learned the difference between the ethernet adapter or the modem/router, and how to trace the tangle of cords back to each power source. Re-booting is simply disconnecting something and hoping it struggles back to life. 

I still have PTSD from the early PC days at Microsoft, when crawling under your desk and yanking the plug out of the wall (cold boot) was the last resort before you called the intimidating know-it-alls working the tech support desk. They sure knew how to put an ignorant librarian in her place. 

At least the tech support folks at our provider NCI in Omak are patient and kind with confused customers. They walked me though the re-booting process again, but no luck. From their end, it looked like everything should have been working, but spotty system outages are common out here in the boonies. This morning, the modem was lit up again like a happy Christmas tree and I am back in business. For now.

Everyone is busy and I don't have much planned, but it's nice being here by the river for these last summer days.

Pig and Cake

 

“Time heals all things. But if time fails, try cake.”
― Maggie Knox, The Holiday Swap 

Here's a useless little factoid: German Chocolate Cake has nothing to do with Germany. It was developed by English-American chocolate maker Samuel German, and originally called German's Chocolate Cake. The first recipe was published in 1956.

The specimen above came out of a box and the sticky pecan topping from a can. I know, I know. But as far as cake mixes go, that's one of the better, and certainly as good as any German Chocolate Cake you'll find a supermarket bakery.

I made a pork shoulder yesterday, braised with apple cider and a pile of onions. The best thing about pork roast is smelling it in the oven all afternoon. When the meat is fork tender, boil down the cider liquid and onions for a delicious goo on mashed potatoes. Pretty good recipe. Welcome fall.

What else have we been eating? Lamb meatballs with tomatoes from the Roma plant that keeps on giving. Until it doesn't. That is sad. 

Baked mini apple donuts on Saturday-- recipe from the NYT cooking section, so naturally complicated. This one required reducing 2 cups of apple cider down to 1/4 cup before you even got started. Geez. Then the dang things stuck like glue to the special pan. 

Pig and Cake sounds like some down home barbecue joint...but pretty much sums it up.  

Hey, we were promised rain in Seattle yesterday but it never materialized. 

I'm off to Twisp tomorrow for a few days. 

 

Focus

 

 “For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business,” T.S. Eliot wrote in “East Coker.” 

I get a weekly email newsletter from the NYT called "Well." The topics are usually interesting and relevant. The subject this week was about our lack of focus, namely the distractions that prevent us from giving undivided attention to a task or goal. 

Here is an excerpt: 

"We tell ourselves that if we could just get off our devices, we could lock in. I find it amusing and slightly alarming to observe how my brain is online even when I’m not. When my thoughts reach an impasse or my memory glitches, my brain assumes a Google search is impending, help is on the way. There’s a pause where my brain wants to hand off the baton to the machine. When the machine isn’t there, there’s static before the brain, crackling back to life, remembers that it knows how to think without help, without every unknown addressed. It’s silly to say, but I miss the spaces my brain used to hold before it saw all the things it didn’t know as knowable. Creativity happened there." 

Anyway, as a librarian, that line about having "every unknown" addressed resonates. It wasn't that long ago when we went to the library reference desk to look up simple facts about people, places and things. 

How old was Frank Sinatra when he died? How many people live in Mexico City? What's the average monthly temperature in Palm Springs?  And so on and so on, now instant gratification in the palm of your hand.  No wonder we're addicted to our phones. 

Where am I going with all this? My early morning screen time habit is hard on aging eyes, especially on these dark mornings. No worries, Feathers and Flowers isn't going away. I love sharing photos and news with our family and friends, but I’m experimenting with healthier screen times. 

As usual

 

The Spartan tree is covered with hundreds of small apples-- as usual, each with its own personal worm. I planted that tree over 30 years ago as a little stick from a catalog. 

This cultivar was developed in British Columbia in 1936, and it was first apple produced from a formal scientific breeding program. Genetic testing has still not revealed its exact parentage. 

According to AI, Spartans faded from production as they are prone to disease. No kidding. It's just a specialty cultivar now, primarily grown in the native region of Canada, or as a home garden "novelty." That's a nice word to keep in mind while you're raking up piles of rotting apples. 

But I picked a basket of the nicer ones to do something with this weekend. They make pretty good applesauce, but that is a ton of messy work for something we don't eat very often. 

In fact, I haven't been into canning much at all this summer, other than a small batch of chutney made with our Roma tomatoes and pears from Lone Pine. 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Mellow yellow

 

September 9th is National Chrysanthemum Day, a holiday also called the “Festival of Happiness" that originated in Japan a thousand years ago. 

In honor, I bought this gold one at QFC this morning. Yesterday at Costco, they had those barrel sized pots as usual, tempting, but almost impossible to get home in with all the other random stuff piled in your cart and car.

The flower symbolizes happiness and joy, but will forever remind of me a short story from way back in my English major days called "The Odour of Chrysanthemums," by D.H. Lawrence. A poignant tale about 19th century coal mining in England and a sad relationship. Don't read it unless you're already depressed.

Today is overcast again, but yesterday turned out to be nice after all. I did some light cleanup and pruned back the roses covered in black spot, usual for this time of year. The clock is running out on these warm afternoons and the yard was sure mellow in the soft September light.

Soft and gleaming season

 

 

"Early Autumn," Maxfield Parish 

 The late Washington Post garden columnist Henry Mitchell once wrote:  

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. 

 For example, Autumn Sedum...

That's a September photo from years ago, when I still had the inclination (and energy) to cut the beds to the ground and then mulch with carts of maple leaves from across the street. 

A tidy look, but actually it's better to leave most plants standing to provide food and shelter for birds and wintering insects. Actually I enjoy getting outside on those first mild February days to start chipping at the cleanup. 

 

So far, September has been more murky in Seattle than soft and gleaming. The air quality is better, but there are still 14 wildfires burning in Washington state. Not much rain in the forecast this week. 

 

 

 

Out for a spin

 

We headed downtown yesterday to check out the new waterfront park and take a ride on the Great Wheel. 

As you can see, a bit murky, although most of the fog had burned off by the time we went up, at least enough to see the skyscrapers emerging through the spooky mist. The mountains, nope. We're under a blanket of wildfire smoke, but fortunately most is staying at high levels.

 

And we had the car all to ourselves to take bad selfies. Actually, we had planned to go on this excursion today, but a grand opening celebration is happening at the waterfront park and they're expecting over 50,000 people to jam the area.  

We had lunch at Ivar's Acres of Clams-- fish tacos for me and chowder for John, then shared a scoop of Molly Moon ice cream before taking the water taxi back home. The full Seattle tourist experience.  

I logged 10,000 steps on my watch by the time we walked the mile home from the West Seattle Junction. 

Just taking it easy for the rest of the weekend. Have you heard, football season started? 

 

Happy birthday, John!

Fall?

 

You wouldn't have thought so in Twisp this week, where the temperature topped 100. Fortunately, we have a window air conditioner that keeps the main room cool. Karen and I sat on the sofa chatting the other afternoon, and a deer went by looking in the window with its tongue literally hanging out. Poor thing. 

School started yesterday in Seattle, and if that's not a fall wake-up call, nothing is. With the middle school across the street, we have traffic gridlock on our block twice a day during drop off and pick up times. 

Everyone is rushed and frantic, so it's also dangerous with kids darting between lines of moving cars. Fortunately the traffic jam doesn't last long, but for the next 10 months, we must watch our comings and goings. Woe to you, if you forget and come home with a load of groceries at the wrong time. 

I'll miss the quiet life again, but for now it feels good to be home. At Lone Pine yesterday, I bought local corn, pears, peaches, garlic and squash. We had an unusual but tasty pizza last night with red onion, Canadian bacon and our own Roma tomatoes. Cucumbers courtesy of Karen's garden. 

Newsflash

 

Vacation homes are a ton of work. Duh! Good thing I like puttering around the house-- at least this house. I've been busy the last two days changing bedding and cleaning out the pantry and freezer in preparation for fall and winter when we don't come as often.

We haul all our garbage (and recycling) back to Seattle, and John stuffs it in the measly little can. It can be a drag, especially in the summer. Guests who volunteer to take a bag home with them get bonus points. 

We eat lots of salad and produce, so Amanda's 12 healthy chickens are a big help and devour vegetable scraps, especially corn and greens. I found out they should not have onions, but they like stale bread, like that bagel that was in the freezer too long. (Sorry crows) 

In a few minutes, everything disappears, and this diet is one reason their eggs taste so amazing.

  

It hasn't been all work and no play. Most mornings before it gets hot, I walk or bike a 1.5 loop around town. The trail goes along the river by the city park, then down Glover Street and past Twisp Works on the way home. 

 

Does anything say fall like flocks of starlings? That picnic shelter is the very place Amanda and Tom were married in October 2009. Walking by I always think about that happy day, when Mom and Dad were both still with us.

My friend Karen is coming over this afternoon for a last visit, then I'm back to the big city tomorrow.