Golden hops

 

I've tried growing fancy things here, like clematis, but hops is the only vine that survived in this dry, sandy spot. 

It thrives, actually, and covers the arbor top by the end of summer. Hops vines die back to the ground each winter, then explode with rampant upright growth in the spring. 

Golden hops is grown as an ornamental and less fussy about soil quality and moisture than the brewing varieties of hops. Eastern Washington is the hops growing capitol of the world, producing about 75% of the supply, primarily used in beer. 

Now mechanized, hops growing and picking was once labor intensive.

 

Somerset Maugham's autobiographical novel, "Of Human Bondage" has a vivid description of hops picking in the Kent countryside. The long book is worth reading just for that. 

In the early 20th century, entire families would travel by train and cart from the east end of London for hops picking-- a working holiday. 

 

 

The living conditions were terrible, but probably no worst than London slums. It was an escape from urban living. All the women and children worked, but there was also open air freedom for the teenagers, who found all sorts of fun and mischief in the countryside. (According to Maugham.)

Well, in the other parts of our little ecosystem, things are looking quite lush. 

 

Farewell to April. The sweetest months always go the fastest.

"Yet with these April sunsets"

 

A bouquet for the house, with the delicate scent of lilac each time you walk by-- in aromatherapy, used to ease anxiety. 

A hardy, almost indestructible shrub, there are still old lilacs growing on almost every block in West Seattle. As you walk along, the strong but light fragrance is evocative of every spring you can remember. 

One of my favorite poems, "Portrait of a Lady" by T.S. Eliot (featured before on this blog) tells a poignant story about a young man visiting an upper class English lady with whom he's had a relationship. He says he's leaving on an extended trip abroad. She puts on a brave face, but has some sharp words about the cruelty of youth:

 Now that lilacs are in bloom
She has a bowl of lilacs in her room
And twists one in her fingers while she talks.

"Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands
(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks.)

"You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see."
 
I smile, of course,
And go on drinking tea.

"Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall
My buried life, and Paris in the Spring,
I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world
To be wonderful and youthful, after all."

Well! We're headed into a divine stretch of spring weather, as good as it gets, with temps in the high 70's this weekend. "Hot" enough for the locals to start complaining. 

 

Yesterday was my recovery day from the long drive, but today the garden tools come out for some catch up work. 

Parting shots

 

I always snap a picture of the house for luck before locking the door-- my little superstition. 

It was hard to leave on such a perfect morning, but a nice drive down the valleys to Wenatchee. The Columbia River (actually Lake Entiat) making a perfect mirror reflection of the desert bluffs. 

There was a fair amount of traffic, with big RV's suddenly back on the roads. Everyone is in a rush but I stayed to the right as usual minding my own business. 

Snoqualmie Pass is treacherous in April because they haven't repainted the lane lines yet. I guess the snowplows scrape them off in the winter. Anyway, you know what to expect after all these years.

It was a full on Seattle feel when I got back-- cloudy and chilly after dry and sunny central Washington. 

Look at all that pollen! Everything is kind of a mess outside--

 Might as well enjoy the bluebells. I've thrown in the towel on that. 

Smell of spring

 

The river has a wonderful fresh scent right now from the melting snow. It's clean, earthy, sharp and really hard to describe. All winter, the snowflakes form around tiny specks of dust, minerals, or pollen, and as they melt, the water releases this metallic scent.

The Methow River usually reaches peak flow in May or June. There is still plenty of snow to melt in the high North Cascades, but unless we get sudden heavy rain (unlikely) it's shaping up to be a typical run off year.

Last visit, we were overrun with turkeys, but this time I haven't seen a single one. They are hidden away right now, brooding their eggs. Before long, they bring out the parade of pouts. They're fun to watch, although turkeys have worn out their welcome in town.

 

But the young deer are in the yard, learning how to reach the new foliage. Each time this one got a tasty bite, she did a happy little frolic. The energy of youth...

 

Speaking of which. Maya had the chicks and ducks out in the sunshine for play time yesterday.

The ducklings will soon outgrow their box in the garage, and Tom was working like crazy getting the outdoor house ready for them.

As spring bursts into life on the farm, each day brings new discoveries. 

 

Fresh and bright

The Carlton farm is truly smack up against the wilderness. Just a short walk off the property takes you into the 2500 acre Golden Doe Wildlife Area, with a beautiful riparian loop trail. And just beyond that to the northwest, the vast expanse of Okanogan Wenatchee National Forest, encompassing 3.8 million acres along the east slopes of the Cascade Range. 

Amanda and I had Golden Doe all to ourselves this morning, and what a morning-- the sun quite warm although the wind still had a chill. 

 Back down in the orchard, a blooming paradise. Just one perfect tree of hundreds...

Will every blossom become a piece of fruit? 

The thought of that much abundance boggles the mind. 

So much to learn and discover this first year with many surprises (good and bad) along the way for the new homeowners. They are loving it, but think "money pit."

The big weekend project will be getting the complicated irrigation systems up and running for the summer-- the dry season is already here. 

Sip and Paint

 

 

It poured rain yesterday, always a drag on the freeway, but traffic was light and I left early. The worst traffic and drivers are just getting out of Seattle. 

The trip was uneventful and a sugary peach smoothie (spring tradition) at Lone Pine fueled me up for the last 60 mile leg to Twisp. 

No painting there, but last night I went to a watercolor class. Art books and YouTube can only take you so far-- there's nothing like live demonstration, especially for a dynamic medium like watercolor. 

Our next door neighbor, Bethany Wray, is a well-known  artist in the Valley. She sells her art at the Twisp Saturday Market, on Instagram, and at Arrowleaf Studio at Twisp Works. 

She also teaches popular watercolor classes in the community and I registered for "Sip and Paint" at Ryzo Wines in Twisp.  

Bethany taught art at the elementary school for years, so she knows how to break a project down into steps with easy-to-follow instructions. And keep people's attention. A group of talking women friends with wine is like trying to wrangle a third grade class! 

I learned how watercolor is a process like anything else, it gets better with practice, but some basic tips really help. There were quite a few aha moments for me. 

And look at that. A good teacher is always defined by the results! 

 And mine-- not bad for a first attempt.

 

We were all copying Bethany's print (above) of a wildflower meadow. 

Speaking of flowers, the Arrowleaf Balsamroot are just starting to bloom, everyone's favorite time of year. They grow in great abundance here, turning the hills golden for a few weeks. 

Unawares

John mowed yesterday and how nice it looked.  Not exactly all downhill from here, but this is the prettiest time for the yard, everything so lush and green. Soon the grass starts to turn brown...

Anyway, that first real warm day always seems to catch us unawares, when the temperature outside suddenly gets higher than inside the house. We keep the furnace set at 68 degrees, and the thermostat hit 70 yesterday. My, how nice to open a few windows for the first time. Fresh air. 

 

And that day called for a steak on the grill. We shared it, then I generously let John gnaw the bone. Ha.

I have a tricky grill master job when we share, as I like steak on the rare side and John more well done. "Pink not red" he always says, which they hate to hear in steak restaurants. (Red and grey are easy, pink is hard.) Anyway, most of the time I manage to please us both, and if not, marriage is about compromise.

Before we get too complacent, rain and cool weather return tomorrow, just in time to drive to Twisp. At least it won't be snowing. This is a solo trip, and I have some fun things planned. More on that later. 

 

 

Something different

 

 

The famous "Wedding March" from Mendelssohn's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" is instantly recognizable, and the Overture is a wonderful old chestnut in the classical repertoir. 

He wrote that Overture at the tender age of 17, then many years later composed incidental music for a stage production of Shakespeare's favorite comedy. I expected "just the music" yesterday, but we had the full show on stage with actors narrating and the Symphony Chorale in the background. It lasted over an hour and and very entertaining from the 4th row. 

More ducks and daffodils? OK. 

 Their first introduction to water yesterday, and well, they took to it like-- ducks! 

The pear trees just coming into full bloom. A magic time, with the full promise of Spring. 

 

Golden days are here

 

The Carlton pear orchard just coming into bloom...including hundreds of daffodils planted by the previous owner to deter moles. What a beautiful way to do it.

Too cute

 

But ducks are famously messy, far messier than chicks because they love to play in, drink, and splash their water. They also poop about every 10 minutes. Liquid. Oh, well. Most people say they are worth the trouble. 

Amanda says these are very friendly and cuddly, born and bred to be backyard ornaments (pets.)

All of this takes me back to early childhood on our Pennsylvania farm when Dad tried chicken farming. We loved the boxes of chicks and ducklings behind the wood stove in the spring. Of course they weren't pets. And those colored chicks handed out at Easter back then? Something to play with before they showed up on the dinner table. Different times for sure. 

Anyway, I've been busy lately and nothing much fun. I spent 2 hours on hold yesterday morning to resolve a small fraud charge on my credit card. Something that should be a simple fix, but turned into a big hot mess. 

Of course a new credit card was immediately issued, then another fraud charge appeared on that number before it was even mailed! Sounds like an inside job to me. How bizarre. 

So now things are in limbo. My replacement card (in the mail now) is useless when it arrives so I need a replacement for the replacement. There's a good 45 minute wait to get a human being on the fraud line, and no guarantee they are "empowered" to resolve your problem. This does not inspire confidence in the new Alaska Airlines Atmos Rewards Visa. Fancy name, bad service. 

We have a nice weekend of weather coming up, and a symphony tomorrow with one of my favorite works. Felix Mendelssohn was 17 when he composed the famous Overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream. Wonderful music for a warm spring afternoon. I'll get back to the credit card project on Monday. 

Oh, so peaceful

 

I've asked John what he's looking forward to on this mostly German river cruise, and he says "Black Forest Cake." 

Well, as it happens, one of our cruise excursions is a bus ride out to the Black Forest where we will apparently see many cuckoo clock stores and a Black Forest Cake making demonstration.  

At the grocery store yesterday he found one, and they are hard to come by around here. Of course he bought it. He doesn't go to the grocery store often, so impulse buys whatever strikes his fancy. 

Not complaining-- it is quite delicious. Just something about the tart cherries and dark chocolate combo. Mit Schlag. We'll see if the Germans can top Alki Baking Company. 

I'm enjoying the peace and quiet this week as Seattle School District is on spring break. During the school year, we have to time our coming and goings around drop off and pick up time. Not to mention, the street is always parked up with staff cars. It’s la-di-da until Monday morning back to reality traffic. 

 

 

  

Trudging through spring

 

Yesterday was wet, cold and windy, a thoroughly miserable spring day in Seattle. On the bright side, there weren't any tornadoes. Poor battered mid west. 

So I was living vicariously through other people's travel. Our neighbor Wendy emailed this luscious photo from Sorrento, on the Amalfi Coast. She and her husband are on a 10-day Road Scholar tour of southern Italy. She said the fresh mozzarella was amazing, as was the rest of the lunch, served after visiting a lemon orchard. Sigh. 

You might remember, Road Scholar once had the lumpy name of Elderhostel. It's been around a long time, and reinvented itself as a non-profit travel company with educational tours geared toward older adults. They go just about everywhere, and I look forward to hearing how it went. 

In about 6 weeks we leave on our own big travel adventure, a Rhine River cruise, from Basel to Amsterdam. We also have a 4 day pre-cruise tour of northern Italy and Switzerland before boarding the boat. Hopefully not too jet lagged to enjoy that part.

I'm looking forward to the escorted tour experience, something different for us. There are advantages and disadvantages of doing your own thing, so the jury is out. 

There are a few sour puss YouTube reviews, but I've never met anyone who had a bad time on a European river cruise. 

In the promotional pictures, the sun is always shining on the Rhine maidens. Ha ha. 

Orchard daffodils

 

  

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

 

William Wordsworth 

 

 

April showers

 

 

And all that...

Well, at least the tulips last longer in this chilly weather. I've planted all sorts of fancy varieties over the years, but hard to beat the sturdy old red and yellow Darwins, sold in big cheap bags at Costco. 

Unlike the frilly ones, these will come back for several years, that is, if they aren't accidentally dug up or lopped off. Bulbs lead a dangerous life in this yard.

 

 

Very pretty, but most of what you're looking at are invasive ground covers and bluebells. Cleaning out the spring weeds and foliage is my biggest weeding chore of the year, then I can conveniently forget about it. Martha Stewart would rip out this mess and start over. But she has a hoard of gardeners to boss around.

  

 

 

It looks like the little chicks have all survived the first tricky 48 hours in the garage. There was one false alarm, but turned out she was just soundly sleeping, as babies do.  

 

 

In other farm news, the small trees at the far end of the orchard are starting to bloom.

 

 

 

Spring peepers

 

Big excitement on the Carlton farm-- a new batch of 12 chicks arrived today. The little ducklings come next week, I think. 

Anyway, Maya was pretty excited and already busy naming and taming. It takes quite a bit of work and care getting chicks up to the size they can run outside with the big girls. For the next month or so they live in the warm garage--- eating, pooping and growing.

I went for a nice walk with a friend this morning at the Washington Park Arboretum. The afternoon has been devoted to setting up my new iphone. Actually, the phone does most of the work. Say what you want about Apple, but device set up is their specialty. The new ones connect themselves seamlessly to all the other Apple paraphernalia you have scattered around the house. Everyone gets along and works together. That's the big advantage of joining the cult. 

It's going to be a rainy weekend, darn. We've had some spectacular sunny days, but it honestly it hasn't been that warm, barely touching 70 once or twice.  Spring is a long, slow process here.

Crane's-bill

 

That's a funny name for plain old geraniums. Costco had beautiful plants yesterday, sold in a six pack. Who can resist? I also lugged home an unwieldy bag of potting soil, specially designed to be impossible to get in and out of a shopping cart. 

But what was I thinking, with that bag of 50 gladiolus bulbs? Costco is made for impulse shopping. Maybe I'll share some with our neighbor, although she has a beautifully curated yard and might not care for garish, flopping flowers like that. 

All that potting, I was exhausted by the end of the day. Time for a glass (or two) on the deck while keeping an eye on the grill-- teriyaki pork, pineapple and peppers.  Life is good. Spring is here.