Gentle times

 

A little photo diversion from all the bad news this morning.

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. 

Verbosity galore

 

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.  

  

And this too shall pass

 

Roma tomatoes. 

Gladiolas. 

 So-so grocery store peaches for vanilla ice cream tonight.

 

 

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. 

 Simple and pretty Gaillardia (Indian Blanket.) 

And a little nudge saying nothing lasts forever-- a snazzy pair of rain boots ordered from Costco. 

"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
 

And so it goes

 

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. 

Follow the directions

 

 

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.  

 

The many colors

 

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.