You could lose yourself in these June flowers. I can remember the old film cameras, tripods and expensive lenses and you once needed to take up close portraits like these. So hats off to the amazing point-and-shoot iPhone camera.
I'm off to Twisp this morning. Looks like nice driving weather all across the state.
A bouquet of florist roses in February is a cheerful thing, but nothing compares to sweetly fragrant, fully blown, double garden roses, just at the point of dropping their petals. A double rose is in essence a combination of two roses, one on top of the other.
These pink beauties came from our favorite David Austin variety, "Brother Cadfael."
“Happiness,” Cadfael thinks as he floats on the River Severn, “consists in small things, not in great. It is the small things we remember, when time and mortality close in.”
Speaking of lovely, anyone visiting Seattle this week would wonder why a person would live anywhere else? Mountains are out in all directions, Mt. Rainier looming in the distance, not a cloud in the sky and perfect temperatures in the mid-70's. Come back in January.
It is very lush and green. That winter-like atmospheric river this week watered deeply, so rare in June when I'm already dragging hoses around just trying to keep up. And now with warm sun hitting the flowers, it could be our most beautiful early summer garden.
At 3:30 am, there was a hint of light in the sky, and at 6 am the sun is already shining through the kitchen windows, showing off the dirt. A good afternoon for that clever outdoor Windex with the hose attachment-- it isn't perfect, but no ladders required.
We have a Symphony concert on Sunday afternoon, that's about it. Then I'm going to Twisp on Monday, the only visit to squeeze in during this busy and too fast month of June.
Have a good weekend.
The Twisp chickens were all killed on Tuesday night, including the four new babies. We are heartbroken. The hens were so much more than "just chickens."
They were hand-raised pets, beautiful, healthy and productive. The oldest one in the flock, Leah, had been around since the start of the pandemic. And a considerable investment of time, money and work went into keeping them.
After a raccoon attack a few weeks ago, Tom secured the hen house with automatic door timer to keep predators out at night. But some animal still got in with the door closed, most likely a weasel that slipped through a gap. The poor hens were trapped and slaughtered, one by one. Amanda made the grisly discovery in the morning.
She in particular loved caring for them and I'll sure miss watching those sweet birds. They yard will be quiet and empty. They were the dearest hens, constantly "bocking" to each other in that soothing way, taking dirt baths, looking for worms, or doing something funny, like rushing over for vegetable scraps when you opened the back door. And the final blow, they laid delicious eggs daily in their snug little house, even through the bitterest of winters. Farewell.
When I was 13, we saw a weasel attack a chicken on Grammy's farm in broad daylight, right under our noses. It made a lasting impression, because about 10 years later I actually wrote a poem about it, which I found yesterday in an old spiral notebook.
Of course, a weasel is just being a weasel, but seeing something beautiful and helpless suddenly snatched away certainly feels evil.
Here it is:
Weasel-- Pennsylvania, 1963
You darted quite casually
through the hysteria
that muggy farm afternoon,
our favorite Bantam's neck
held smoothly in your teeth.
A sinuous brown motion, no more.
The abrupt daylight attack
Mother's broom swinging wildly
our shepherd's mad pursuit
our frenzied clumsiness
no match, no match
for your graceful evil.
Written, 1973
My regular readers might have noticed Monday's post (The Three Graces) is gone. Well, no mystery, because I (duh) accidentally deleted it, along with some drafts.
Not a big deal but a wake up call, thinking about the consequences of one careless click. Feathers and Flowers has 4,383 posts now dating back to 2009. It's the family archive and my life work, in a way. The thought that the whole thing could just disappear in a second was sobering. Websites can and should be backed up, so I need to figure out how to do it.
Anyway, a few more prom pictures (with Nova's permission) from last Saturday night. They had a good time, although like so many things, I think the weeks of anticipation and preparation were as much fun as the actual event.
On Sunday we went to the Connections Museum in the Georgetown neighborhood. John was there a year ago with his nephew and thought I might enjoy it. To be honest, when I looked at their website, the piles of antiquated communications equipment didn't look that interesting.
To make a long story short, the 2 hour tour was great. Of course we felt like a dinosaurs, seeing those old familiar Bell telephones, remembering real live operators, party lines, and the excitement of long distance calls. The complexity of the early mechanical switching systems was mind-blowing.
The museum is only open on Sundays, and when we left the parking lot was already jammed. It does attract a geeky crowd of telecommunications enthusiasts, including happy volunteers of all ages tinkering with the equipment.
Fun stuff-- and a museum unique to Seattle.
I activated a free trial subscription to Apple TV that came with my laptop, mostly to see the Joel Cohen movie "The Tragedy of Macbeth" starring Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand. It got quite the buzz when it came out in 2021.
What can you say, except "MacBeth" is a grim and horrible tale. In Shakespeare's time, all the plays were performed on a bare stage, which in a way, made the tragedies even more grim and horrible, without any distractions.
Like John said, this production tried a little too hard with the dark, crazy sets. It made you dizzy. "The Bard" really doesn't need that much help embellishing his stories. But the acting was good, especially the horrifying witch contortionist. Weird sister, indeed.
Then the other night we noticed "Killers of the Flower Moon" was also free on Apple streaming. Like "Oppenheimer," another must see 2023 movie, both for the important subject matter and the awards won. It is well-done, but 3 1/2 sad hours long. We broke it up into 3 segments, and finish the last one tonight. No happy ending there.
It was already getting light at 4 am. After a pretty gloomy week in Seattle, we'll finally have a bright sunny morning. The garden is a beautiful jungle, the roses and peonies blooming, the grass ankle high. I look forward to finally working outdoors and giving my eyes a break from indoor screens.
Yesterday I had that comprehensive annual eye exam, where they flash lasers to the back of your brain. Or at least it feels that way. The good news is I got the best possible news at my age: Come back in a year.
Farewell to the merry month of May.
