A newly discovered design, carved in the earth in southwestern Amazon, sometime between 600 BC and 850 AD. Yes, that's a cat, with a ton of personality, lounging around as cats often do.
And this blogger is back also...
Have a good weekend. Enjoy these precious, waning summer days.
Nica: Maybe it will go away soon.
Puppy: Hey, it looks pretty cool around here!
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Amanda and "Cowboy"
And in other news, Happy Birthday to our Amanda today.
The house has changed and so have we, but I'm sitting right where this picture was taken back in 1981. How blessed we are.
This weekend, our Carlton family adopted this adorable Chihuahua mix puppy. She came from a rescue home in Bellevue, and they brought her over last night before we went out to dinner.
About 3 months old and downright adorable. Also healthy and spunky, and like all puppies, a great big project. But the girls are jumping right in with the training and spoiling. Lucky little dog. I'll wager she soon finds her niche with the other house pets in front of the Russian stove.
Happy Birthday to our darling Nova today. This is the poem I wrote 17 years ago. It feels like yesterday.
"A Poem for Nova"
That morning you arrived,
You were our bright summer star.
And I drove East to greet you,
Body, Mind, Spirit--
With a prayer for every mile.
Time passed. Road and silence.
Mountains, rocks, fields,
The occasional gift of horses grazing.
And finally, clear desert light
Above the ancient river.
Then your Mother's call, at last!
Wonder and tears
Turning a roadside nowhere into Somewhere.
Oh, you thrilled us
With your big entrance: Here I Am.
So, an old story but still a fresh miracle.
And I arrived at a new place, too.
A little hand to hold,
Precious life to cherish,
The circle complete.
I bought this book for inspiration, but it had the opposite demotivating effect when I realized she "paints" with single strand floss.
If you know anything about embroidery, then you know that is indeed tedious and finicky. I'll stick with two-strand work and simple Aunt Martha iron on patterns.
That good old Aunt Martha brand, sold by family owned Colonial Patterns, has been around since the 1930's. I remember when these cost a quarter at the five and dime store. Now Amazon will throw one on the porch for about $6.
Most are quick and easy, fun and relaxing, nostalgic or silly. I'm not aspiring to become an embroidery artist at this stage of the game.
The plum tree is groaning with fruit (isn't that a great expression?) and a few hot days away from ripe. Hopefully can do some canning soon. Since they are visible from the sidewalk, I actually worry about people coming in the yard and stealing when we're not around. Yes, that kind of neighborhood now.
Blue sky and fresh air back this morning, although the smoke pollution on the east side of the state stays relentless. Our Carlton family is coming over for the weekend for a quick escape. They won't be staying here this time, but we hope to see them Sunday afternoon.
Have a good weekend.
But not today. We've had the windows closed and both air purifiers running. Not so pleasant with temps in the 80's and no AC in the house.
John does have a method (when I'm gone) for keeping the house cool, which involves keeping most of the upstairs blinds shut. It's depressing enough being stuck inside without stumbling around in the dark.
We have seen much worse smoke, but my ukulele group still cancelled the Thursday outdoor meeting. I could have used some fun diversion, but cancelling was probably a good idea, since most of us are in that "sensitive" group (aka old.) You really shouldn't be singing at the top of your lungs in this air.
Still Seattle has nothing to complain about, compared to eastern Washington where the air is absolutely horrible from the many uncontrolled fires.
When people visit from other parts of the country, they are surprised how we can leave unscreened windows hanging wide open the summer. Insects have never been much of a problem. But who knows what climate change has up its sleeve next.
They say tomorrow will be a better day.
A blog post without photos? Who wants to read through my rambling text without even a pretty picture? What was once so easy (above) on my laptop now takes a complicated work around process. That only works sometimes.
Anyway, delving deeper into this photo uploading problem on Google Blogger revealed a giant hodgepodge of a password mess (according to my tech support person.) This is what happens when you allow things to just evolve "organically" letting technology make decisions without any master plan. Things work fine-- until they don't.
But as Albert Einstein said, "In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity."
A little photo diversion from all the bad news.
This is a family gathering on the farm in Bucks County where our
dad was born. Everyone is dressed up with cakes on the table, so maybe a special occasion like a wedding. Unfortunately, these long gone relatives are unidentified.
In the 1950's, we had family parties in that same spot in Grammy's front yard.
They didn't have fancy outdoor furniture, so trestle tables were set up (with tablecloths) and kitchen dishes and chairs brought outside. There was good simple Pennsylvania Dutch food like ham, potato salad, pie and watermelon.
Food in those days was always passed around in bowls and platters, never buffet style. Seconds were OK, once everyone was served, but it would have been considered rude to pile your plate high. Meals lasted a long time (kids were expected to sit and listen until excused) because people ate slowly and talked.
My, how old I am. Another aging observation: stuff gets bigger but not necessarily better.
"A typical 1950s dinner plate (8-9 inches) comfortably held roughly 800 calories worth of food, compared to modern 12-inch plates that can hold over 1,900 calories."
We have escaped the air pollution from the fires so far, but our luck changes mid week when they say it will turn both hot and smoky in Western Washington. Bad combination.
I'm finally 3/4 of the way through this dense tome and at this rate, maybe I'll finish by fall. "The Magic Mountain" is not exactly light summer reading. What was I thinking?
The novel takes place in a tuberculosis sanatorium in Davos Switzerland. There isn't much to the 1,000 page story except a young man goes to visit his ailing cousin, then becomes convinced he is also sick and winds up staying in that surreal and creepy world for 7 years.
The sanatorium is a closed ecosystem obsessed with disease and death, becoming “ a mirror for doomed European society” before WW1. A single day can run whole chapters, and Thomas Mann packs the pages with dense German philosophy. Eeek.
I read this book back in my English major days and found it fascinating. But my brain worked better then and I had more attention span, not to mention, less distractions while laying around with a heavy book on my stomach. Well, I get A for effort.
It's another stick-close-to-home weekend with Sea Fair in full swing mucking up the traffic. It should be quiet in our neighborhood with everyone elsewhere.
Eastern Washington is suffering right now under awful smoke, but so far we've escaped that scourge. Just one beautiful day after the other in Seattle. Perhaps a touch of rain tomorrow.
Have a good one.
The neglected blue hummingbird feeder transformed into a chickadee water station. They love it.
(A brilliant idea, if I don't say so myself.)
Stargazer lilies in full bloom.
"Your days are numbered. Use them to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun. If you do not, the sun will soon set, and you with it."
Marcus Aurelius
They tore down an old bungalow just down the street from us, and today they started the excavation, making a big racket and dust.
The soil in West Seattle is sandy and dry as a desert! This is why, in an major earthquake, we would have something nasty going on called "liquification." But that's another story.
As I walked by, he was cheerfully ripping out a blooming hydrangea by the roots and a rather fine Japanese maple. A sad sight dangling from the bulldozer. A good job for little boys with toys who never grow up.
One more urban patch of bird and insect habitat bites the dust, literally.
The plan is to squeeze three tall townhouses on that tiny lot. The street in front of our house will soon be a staging area for construction deliveries over the next months. You wouldn't believe the huge trucks they maneuver down the narrow alleys.
So the summer of relative quiet is over. And as always, our most beautiful season is going too fast. The Blue Angels just arrived in town for Sea Fair Weekend, screaming overhead when you least expect it. People find it thrilling, and I used to, but I'm getting old and crabby. Especially when it comes to our tax dollars burning up the sky.
Anyway, I love August and it is almost here. Summer's last stand and always a bittersweet month. It has a lovely quality that feels heavy and light at the same time. Soon school starts, vacations wind down and fall ramps up. Most people think of autumn as the beginning of the new year.
Not to brag, but this was the best of many pizzas I've made with the NYT simple pizza dough recipe.
What is the secret? Follow the directions (duh) to mix the dough a day ahead, then let it slow rise in the fridge. This is the same method that gives that wonderful crusty texture in homemade bread.
No oily salty pepperoni, just vegetables and a mix of provolone and mozzarella. Who says pizza can't be healthy? And for a change, we made it through meatless Monday yesterday with leftover pizza for lunch and tofu stir fry for dinner.
Other than occasional Thai take out (which I can't make at home) we almost never go out to eat anymore. One reason:
"Washington ranks as the most expensive state for dining out, with Seattle rivaling or exceeding costs in places like New York City."
The restaurant sticker shock is worse for people who remember when a bowl of soup was $5 not $20. And not that long ago.
I don't mind cooking and John doesn't mind cleaning up the kitchen, so it works out pretty well.
My friend Tim posted a picture on Instagram of his gorgeous hydrangea blooming in several colors at once, almost like this one in our yard.
Apparently it happens because soil acidity is rarely uniform across a garden bed, and the plant's roots sit in different areas picking up different ph levels.
For some reason, our hydrangeas are more beautiful than ever. Two years ago, I pruned them almost to the ground and they did nothing last summer. Now they forgave me.
Hydrangeas actually bloom best left alone with little or no pruning, but gardeners do like to fuss with them.
For example. I passed by this one many times on my old 2 mile pandemic loop walk. On the same walk recently, it was exactly the same, blooming its heart out over the sidewalk. The yard still neglected and never pruned, watered or dead headed-- so there you go.
Well, I don't have much news. A heavy cloud is over Seattle after the shooting last night at the Bite of Seattle festival.
Really? What will it take? We ask ourselves again and again but nothing changes.
More like Supersweet "500." The plant is covered with fruit.
After a few days of hot weather, four months of watering and fertilizing suddenly pays off. This is a good variety to remember for next year. They have that sweet crunchy pop when you bite into them and nothing compares to a warm cherry tomato off the vine.
Not to mention, the first simple tomato salad of the summer.
Believe it not, we eat lots of iceberg lettuce salad in this house, and you gotta have iceberg for tacos.
Iceberg has become rather unappetizing for the time being. It's unnerving how something so ubiquitous could make you deathly sick for weeks.
We had Italian pasta last night that Amanda brought from Italy. I usually buy whole wheat pasta so this white orecchiette was a nice change. I cooked the whole bag and will do something with the leftovers this weekend.
Yes, the weekend, here again. A slight chance of showers and a high of 75. So pleasant.
My sister Marji in Las Vegas sent this photo yesterday: 124 degrees on her patio in the sun. So dangerous.
The locals down there are smart as desert rats. The tourists, maybe not so much.
Our poor old abused plum tree is just dripping with fruit, and many are on low hanging branches right in the yard, not over the outside sidewalk. John doesn't like dodging branches on his way to the recycle but too bad. He likes making and eating chutney and if it stays this warm, we can pick in a week or so.
Last year, there were almost none! Who knows with that fickle tree? The most common reason is poor bloom time weather (cold rainy days) or the lack of a cross-pollinator nearby. I happen to know there is another Italian plum tree living just across the street. (W. please tell B. not to ever chop it down.)
Anyway, time to think about canning, especially since I didn't do much last year. We are low on good plum chutney. I am a slapdash cook but a fussy canner. Everything has to be super clean and exact directions followed for processing, so the jars are still good two years later. In fact, the chutney mellows over time and gets even better.
Also looks like a bumper year for tomatoes. The big dark pots bake in hot sun along the side of the house, a perfect spot for ripening.
For some reason, I've enjoyed the yard more than ever this year, and trying to embrace all the work with more pleasure than annoyance. We should not take for granted how long we can do these things. As the saying goes:
"Everything is borrowed."
To put it in perspective, the standard index tops out at 500, and any number above this (such as 700 or 800) indicates catastrophic pollution.
The town of Nespelum on the Colville Reservation in northeastern Washington, is roughly 90 miles from Twisp.
This is one of the poorest areas of the state, and now that little town (above) is surrounded by a 65,000 acre fire. As often happens, the people who can least afford it lose everything.
We woke up to a red and orange sunrise, but our air quality is still OK here in Seattle. It's going to be hot (for us) today close to 90 degrees.
That's about all the news. Oh yes, some person dumped a big pile of junk in front of our hedge the other night. Our neighbor and I have reported illegal dumping to the city, but that can take days until they get around to cleaning it up. In the meantime, I hope people don't think the ones who live here did such a disgusting thing.
Now that is one happy dawg face after a dip in the Methow River and a picnic with her long lost family.
Our animals, bless them, don't need yoga or mindfulness practice to relax. They are always in the present moment and for Nica, that sad 3 week separation ended the moment her family came home and life went on just as before.
Humans minds are usually planning for the future or ruminating about the past. Yes, we can "practice" mindfulness, but sitting on a cushion trying to empty your mind has the opposite effect for some of us. "Try not to imagine a pink elephant" and all that.
There was an article in the NYT this week about the resurgence of granny crafts like quilting. Anne Kirketerp, a Danish psychologist, wrote a book called “Craft Psychology,” and she calls this phenomenon "meaningful self-forgetfulness." She says:
“When we create something that requires full attention, the part of our brain called ‘default mode network’ is diminished,” Dr. Kirketerp said. “The constant inner noise or negative ruminating thoughts are absent.”
Hand embroidery is my go-to craft at the moment, because it doesn't require set up like painting or sewing. And I can pick it up for just a few minutes at a time. I guess people will get granny embroidered tea towels for Christmas.
What glorious summer days we're having in Seattle. I'm enjoying every moment of this fine weather. (Twisp is hot and smoky at the moment.)
Our yard is filled with birds chirping from morning to night. The quiet nesting period is over, and this is called the post-breeding surge, when the population doubles or triples with family groups foraging for food. The chickadees and bushtits love that olive tree. I spray it with the hose, then sit and watch them take showers in the drops. Who needs a meditation cushion?
That old joke/story kept coming to mind yesterday. We've never had the outdoor windows professionally cleaned.
Yes, one more thing I've always done myself, in recent years, with a Windex hose attachment so I don't have to drag around a ladder. That leaves much to be desired, especially the top of the kitchen greenhouse window, which stays filthy no matter how much you squirt it.
Nice and clean!
I don't usually fall for front door solicitations from companies who are "working in the neighborhood" and can give me a "deal," but I liked the guy for some reason, and this time it worked out. His Revive Pro Company also cleans house exteriors and puts up Christmas lights, among other things. Maybe we will use them again.
They use a brush and cleaning solution that dries (almost) streak and spot free-- cheaper and quicker than a hand squeegee job. They were done in under an hour.
Nothing scary about that.
"Petrichor" is that fresh, earthy scent when rain falls on dry ground. Seattle might finally get wet this morning.
We've only had a trace of rain (0.06 to be exact) so far this month. I water the flower beds by hand almost daily, which is a chore. The grass went brown and dormant weeks ago. Very few people irrigate lawns in this neighborhood, mostly because of the expense.
Seattle Public Utilities charges homeowners on both ends for water: what comes in through the street meter and then out the sewer (which of course is not metered.) That means you pay the sewer charge for drinking water dumped on the ground. What a racket.
We see more of those plastic lawns now in West Seattle, especially with the new construction. I get it, but just give me brown in the summer. In the winter, the grass turns green as Ireland again.
I'm happy to report the family is safely back on the Carlton farm.
They were met by one ecstatic dog and two indifferent cats. The house-sitters took good care of their place, although Amanda said the poultry flock looks slightly diminished. A mystery, but eagles in the area sometimes help themselves to a nice chicken dinner.
A peaceful morning on the farm. All is well.
There's nothing more beautiful than early morning light-- especially shining on these blooming trumpet lilies.
In the Northwest, we wake up to crisp, cool air. And yes, sometimes that heavy marine layer of grey clouds, but there's no doubt, Seattle has some of the best summer weather in the country.
Yesterday at the Coliseum in Rome, a different light-- the intense brilliance of Italian sky on a blistering hot morning.
The families are on their way home now, with a lifetime of memories for the kids to someday share with their kids.
But frankly, this makes me thankful having seen some of these places back in the 1970's, when we just strolled into St. Peter's Basilica with a baby in a backpack (Amanda.)
A Cardinal patted her on the head, and we caught a glimpse of il Papa walking by. Talk about unforgettable.
