Nothing gold can stay

 

The front of the house looks inviting, but no one comes to the door these days except the mailman and Amazon. I forget what a real social life is, with friends and family around the table eating, drinking and talking. We have not had company inside since last December. That is incredibly sad.

For Halloween, we're supposed to put a bucket of candy out on the sidewalk, but it isn't the same as opening the door for trick-or-treaters. It was about the only time we would even see the neighborhood kids and their parents. I always looked forward their costumes from year-to-year. Superheroes never go out of style.

One positive thing about the pandemic--it brought families out of the house this summer. Traffic picked up again on the side streets, but for a while I'd see kids riding bikes alone around the neighborhood. Like the old days, when your mom would say, "just be home in time for dinner."

Nothing new around here, except that feeling of the weather about to change in a big way. There's a storm coming this weekend, and next week will be mostly wet. In October, the Northwest dark and wet closes in quite suddenly, like a curtain going down.

Robert Frost's perfect little melancholy fall poem:

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

 

Fall glory

This is a glorious "Hydrangea Panicle," one of the more unusual varieties I see on my walks. Hydrangeas sometimes turn these perfect fall colors in cool, dry weather. 

Like peonies, hydrangeas live a long time, and we still have one that was here 1980. One of the few plants left in the yard from those ancient days. I like the way hydrangeas fill in the flower beds, and I've planted several recently.

I gathered up basket of flowers yesterday for the front porch.  We've had a lovely, lucky stretch of mild weather, with sunny afternoons after the fog burns off.  I'm trying to make the best of these last few pleasant days to work in the garden. A typical fall storm arrives with rain and wind this weekend.

Speaking of lucky, Amanda, Tom and the girls took a well-deserved vacation this week at Olympic National Park. They have not left the Methow Valley since last December, other than a couple of quick trips to Wenatchee. Flip flops and shorts at the Washington coast in October?  Incredible. 

Hot (and I mean hot)

Amanda and Tom grew these lovely jalapenos up on their hill garden.  There are tricks to growing the hottest of peppers: not too much fertilizer, let them dry out between watering, let them age on the vine. Whatever happened, it sure worked. The heat is more like a Scotch Bonnet or Habanero pepper.

From The Cool Science of Hot Peppers:

Biting into a jalapeño pepper has the same effect on the brain as touching a hot stove. The heat of a chili pepper is not actually a taste. That burning feeling comes from the body’s pain response system. Capsaicin inside the pepper activates a protein in people’s cells called TRPV1. This protein’s job is to sense heat. When it does, it alerts the brain. The brain then responds by sending a jolt of pain back to the affected part of the body.

Anyway, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and you can't waste good homegrown vegetables. Aren't these pickled slices pretty? It's nice seeing our jars of chutneys, fruit and pickles lined up on a shelf in the basement.

Speaking of food, we're not especially heavy eaters, but it's surprising how many groceries we go through making three meals a day at home.  Fortunately I love to cook, but like everyone else, get tired of it sometimes. 

We can always get takeout, but it's not usually worth the trouble. I miss simple, taken-for-granted things, like sitting in a fast food restaurant having a hamburger or a taco for lunch. Or actually meeting a friend inside for a cup of coffee.  

Life probably feels more like normal in other places.  However, Seattle has the lowest infection rate among major American cities. Las Vegas, not surprisingly, currently has the highest. Doing the right thing is hard but I guess we're proof it works.

 

 

Fresh from the farm

 

What a treat. Amanda gave us some of their lovely eggs. Saturday morning, as we were standing around the backyard saying goodbye, "Lemon" the big golden hen loudly announced her daily contribution.  Still warm, Nova added her egg to our carton.

Made a Jim Dandy omelette this morning with cheese and fresh peppers from a farm stand.  Homemade wheat bread toast and jam.  I bought a box of pears and apples, and Tom gave us more carrots, beets and jalapenos from the garden.  Looks like I'll be getting out the canning paraphernalia again.

This was the peaceful scene Thursday night at Lake Pearrygin State Park, where we had take-out pizza. In fact, we ate all our meals outside this weekend, ditto all socializing. 

The girls are good about masks and social distancing, and frankly show more maturity than many adults I see on television. They did not have a fun summer and school is very different, but they don't complain much. At least it ended with a memorable trail ride.  I was proud of them handling those BIG horses.

There was a touch of fall in the air, but other than the smoke haze, we had nice weather for our last "in person" visit this year to the Valley. All we can do now is look forward to the better times that will surely return-- if we all stay well.

On the drive home, we stopped at the same campground for a simple picnic lunch on Blewett Pass. We try to avoid the crowded take-out fast food scene in the towns we pass through. It was nice seeing the seasons change at that same spot along the busy highway. I picked up some pretty green moss to make a little "campfire" on the coffee table.

We're tucked up at home now on a foggy, drippy, dark morning in Seattle. All is well.

On the trail

 

Nova and Maya mount up on "White Leg" and "Elk" this morning and get some last minute instruction from the wranglers.

And I rode a nice mare named "Hanna."  Off we went, including Amanda riding “Emma.” John gets the photo credits. 

It was a beautiful fall day for a ride, albeit a bit smoke hazy. I almost forgot how much better the world looks from the back of a horse.  

October

 

We're packing up this morning for the drive to the Methow Valley.  Maya is turning 8, that magic age when kids can go on trail rides at Sun Mountain Lodge. Nova and I rode three years ago for her birthday, and Maya has been patiently waiting her turn.  This is time, there will be four of us--Amanda, Nova, Maya and me. (I offered to rent John a horse, but he declined :-)

It's been a long summer, with none of the usual enjoyable things for the kids, so we're all looking forward to this treat. I've been very horse deprived myself.

The weather is good, although unfortunately the skies are hazy from the California wildfires. This will be our last trip over the North Cascades Highway for the year.