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Bicycling

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 5:04 pm

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Whew. OK, I'll admit it. I let things go over the winter. And the fall. And, OK, much of summer too. But lately I'm back to riding my bike again, even today. Today, when I discovered that someone moved my bike out of the garage to make space for the *gasp* car. And left it where it would get wet if it rained. It did and it did. So my tucas is wet, but I am unswayed.
After I had that lousy stroke in 99, and couldn't drive a car for several years due to eyes that refused to work together (and are both blind on the right side anyways) I started to ride my bike. It gave me some sense of control over my life. My goal was to work up to being able to ride to the little grocery store, just over a mile and one steep hill away. You'd have thought I'd landed a dismount on the moon the way I trumpeted when I was finally able to ride up that steep hill without pushing partway. From there I went on to further challenges until I could ride the 10+ mile round trip to the library and back, all while DD was in school for the day.
About two years into my riding I began experimenting with driving a bit, first to the end of the driveway, then the end of the road, then to the grade school. I'd park there and ride out on my bike. But as I became steadier driving, my eyes cooperating better, the problems I was having with bicycling began to be less tolerable. I was nearly swiped by cars a couple of times, a close call or two with a logging truck, a doggy that didn't take kindly to me, I gradually became discouraged with bicycling as a means of transportation, and decided my limited range of driving would have to do. I eventually stopped riding entirely . Problem was, my mood suffered from it. Perhaps as a side effect of the stroke, I don't know. But I was becoming pessimistic, and introspective, horribly negative at times. I was in a stalemate place where I was entirely too aware of the limitations and inabilities in my life. That, and flabby muscles, drove me to start cycling again.
I did have a brush with a logging truck this morning. But then I also came really close to a fat brown rabbit breakfasting on the roadside. Several swallows felt the need to inspect me as I passed the nest boxes placed on fenceposts by the local scout group. And even after writing all this, my bum is still wet.
It's all good.

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The sun paid a visit...

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Tue May 06, 2008 2:59 pm

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And just in time, too. We had a couple of friends over for lunch- between them they have 4 little girls. Little girls plus a prairie full of wildflowers means parents clicking away like mad with their photo cameras. I'm hoping to get a pic of our little friends in the flowers, to do a painting (of course) but here's a bit of what they were playing among...

The wildflowers are so thick this year! every clump of prairie violets is so full of flowers... it's breathtaking. And as you can tell, the color and number of the rare-and-lovely shooting stars is amazing, we've been seeing about half this number of blooms per stem. Clearly, all the rain, rain, rain and late snows are doing something good.
It takes a bit of work to keep the invasive scotch broom off this place, but the payoff in spring is unbeatable!
For our prairie day, we printed out photos we'd taken of the flowers (I say "we" but it's all DH, he's the techy one!) and sent the girls on a "treasure hunt" to find and identify them. One little sweetie couldn't bring herself to pick the pretty flowers, but she won the treasure hunt anyway. It's so funny to see our place through new eyes. They all were enchanted by the little animals we have tucked away here and there; the goldfish in the three little ponds kept rising to the top to sun themselves eliciting squeals and giggles.
It felt a bit like that old sci-fi film, "all summer in a day", and it's back to chilly this morning, but I'm happy with it!

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Rain, an exercise in blank verse...

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Fri May 02, 2008 5:49 pm

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The joyous, carefree child, May, awash in bitter tears,
Her locks hung with bedraggled blooms, bowing with their burden
Below the persistent, unyielding, relentless curtain.
Birds sing flat notes that beat the ground, unheeded and unheard,
Heavy-lidded eyes watch... and wait... and wonder ...


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My spring break, weather record

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Sat Apr 19, 2008 4:48 pm

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I actually have been back a week, but the day after I got home I had a massive fever a couple of days, and have been sick ever since 'cuz it went to a sinus infection.
I woke this morning to snow. The weather experts say that in recorded and oral history it has never snowed this late in April,. Darn global warming anyway.
So my week of spring "break"...
We had been invited and authorized by a tribal elder of the Yakama Indian Nation to come help out, part of an ongoing effort to do some projects there. Together, our three teams re-roofed a home that was in dire need of it, chopped several cords of firewood, and did some yard work. Doesn't sound like much, but let me elaborate.
The firewood is to go to the oldest tribal members. They can no longer manage to chop enough on their own, and that sets up a vicious cycle. When they run out mid-winter, they are forced to use electric heat. But since the homes often have broken-out windows replaced with boards, it costs an awful lot to get them even tolerably warm (it hovers in the 20's in winter around there). The electric bill comes and there's no way they can pay it; electrical programs to help the elderly are nonexistant since the tribe is a separate, independent nation. So the power gets shut off. The person is forced to find somewhere else where they can stay for awhile- if this was an easy thing to do they would have done it in the first place. While they are gone, their home freezes, pipes burst, and when they thaw they further cause havoc to the home. If the person has to stay away any length of time, the home gets broken into and everything taken. All this is to say, firewood is no small thing.
The yardwork crew was where I worked. Whenever the elderly gal left her home the neighbor could see and would come break into her home, often. So a crew, the week before us, built a solid board fence so the neighbor can't see. We stained it, and another fellow replaced a couple of windows that needed it. Three of us just couldn't stop there; we went to the nearest town and bought gerbera daisies, thyme, and lavender to plant by the front door, and painted a pretty , picketed "welcome" on a leftover fence board for her to see when she came home. That was the fun part!
Then we went and played games with the kids in the town farthest into the reservation. Blowing bubbles, kicking a ball around, giving the kids a snack (don't mean to make anyone cry, but that was the only food some of them got that day). And there were dogs everywhere, often feral. I had met a really sweet gal from the high school there, waaay back when I was in high school. But the town has taken a severe downturn since then. It is very much like being in the most intimidating inner-city now, in some ways more third-world. I guess the adults have pretty much just been overtaken by apathy and other things; one young friend I made was proud because he'd made it all the way through 8th grade, two grades higher than his father had completed. They have different rules for school attendance I guess, because this is very typical.
In all, it really opened my eyes to what I take for granted. And I'm not just talking about lights that come on when I flip a switch. I mean, here, if a car is flipped over in the road with gasoline flowing out, there will be a patrol car there in minutes, and people redirecting traffic. We unexpectedly wound up driving through the gas trail; when others in our crew drove through some time later there was still noone directing traffic. I was going to tell more on this but still can't without crying...
We were honored to be allowed to do work on the long house. The tables & benches needed sanding, priming & painting. The only downside was that we didn't have time to get a second coat on, but it was cool how that spiffed things up. The splinters on the benches would catch on the older folk's ceremonial clothes and damage them, we sanded & smoothed that away. They even let us eat dinner in the long house one evening! A very interesting thing about the long house- if you ask someone traditional where they live, they will direct you to the longhouse. Their house is just where they stay. As for tribal etiquette, you never interrupt a speaker, even to tell them it's time to wind things up. And a firm grip when shaking hands is regarded as hostile, though they are very understanding of noodleheads like me who don't know that!

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My garden wedding 20-odd years ago

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2008 6:22 pm

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DH and I met on an island when I was just 18 (a story for another time) so it stands to reason that we couldn't have anything but the most romantic wedding possible.
We decided on a summer wedding- the end of July, when some of my favorite flowers are at their peak. But where? Our little startup church was still meeting in a rented auction hall, not very romantic. Turns out a friend from that church had a very large backyard- and had always wanted a gazebo! So while I was up in the San Juan Islands, fulfilling my commitment to complete my second season of being a park aide there, my sweetie was busily helping our friend build a gazebo. He would mail me things from time to time, not just letters but a photo of the tuxedos that he and the guys were renting, and a dozen roses sent via ferryboat from San Juan island to Lopez island, where I was working. (I had to walk down the dock in my uniform to pick them up, and everyone on the boat watched me cry!). When I got back, folks were expecting a mad rush- I think there was actually some disappointment when I decided on only the fourth dress I tried on. Why not? It was perfect. And I'd dreamed since I was a little girl of a long flowing veil. So a friend of my moms, a seamstress by hobby, sewed tiny seed pearls all down the flowing length of tulle.
Most of our friends were young and broke, so we put together masses of sandwiches and salads. And another friend, a professional cake baker, gave us a great price on a very complicated cake- big enough that anyone who wanted to could take some home.
I had saved all the petals from all the flowers my sweetie had given me while we were dating, mixed them with the petals from the dozen roses, and a little girl we were very fond of threw those for us.
We were heading up the little youth group at the time, and a very talented young man and his sister performed the music. If you listen to Christian music at all, his name is Darrell Evans and he's a truly gifted guy, several albums out now and his songs often pop up on the list on Sunday morning. Very fun to see.
When we finally tore ourselves away, we left in another friends vintage Cadillac, then drove to the train station to catch a long ride to our honeymoon destination, the very romantic Bay area of California (where DH grew up, but having only once been out of my home state, seemed like another planet to me!)
Yes, the sun shone all day. And it wasn't too hot. And birds sang during the ceremony. Maybe I remember the day through rose-colored glasses, but isn't that how a garden wedding should be?

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My dream house

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Fri Mar 07, 2008 12:34 am

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It would have a tiny footprint, just large enough to have room for friends around. A basement to hide my junk. With a friendly, sunny kitchen and one of those glass-surrounded laundry rooms where the garden seems to be constantly peeking in to see what I'm up to. And the birds come close, so used to my being there that they don't even startle at the sight of me. Right off that porch would be a huge knot-garden with all my herbs & veggies neatly contained in their raised beds- two or three kinds of sage, thyme and marjoram in the pathways, tomatoes in the corner beds, and rosemary flanking the three exits. A stone path would lead around either side to the front garden. The house is on a little hill, so the front garden gently slopes away toward the sunrise. It has lithodora flowing down over large rocks scattered on the hill (brought up from the river that flows past the bottom of the hill, this garden has completely stoneless soil!) and miniature fruit trees scattered around the edges- the soil is so good that they produce big healthy fruit every year. There are violets lining all the paths through this garden, and the paths are either bark or stones with Irish moss in between. Strong, healthy, aged lilacs give form to this garden, shading the house and the tiny, two-chair gazebo that is surrounded by ferns. There's a little firepit tucked away at the bottom of the slope, screened from the house by a giant oak and a scattering of rhododendrons. The pit is dug into the ground and lined with a stone mosaic set in concrete, just right for marshmallow toasting. The other bottom corner is a pond full of goldfish, in the same mosaic-pebble, and still watertight despite being build long ago. It even has a tiny island in the middle, with a glass-mosaic turtle perched on it. And weeping cherry trees scattered along the edge.
All three sides of the garden have arched gates going out- the bottom one with a forged-metal sunrise in the arch over it and honeysuckle in sunrise colors, the other two are wood with purple clematis over the northern one, and yellow climbing roses embracing the other. Outside the garden is a huge old sturdy barn, big enough for my old truck Daffodil, my riding mower, and all the tools in a rust-free environment. My painting studio is out back, and other than being heated and insulated, is identical to the one I have now. It's just a walk through the herb garden. The whole place is surrounded by a deep grove of oak trees around the outside. And of course, this house is in Camelot so it only rains at night and the sun shines every day!
There now, a nice bit of escapism as the rain comes down on my poor frost-damaged plants struggling to survive in the rocky ground!

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Rural Washington Lives!!!

Category: tips I don't want to forget | Posted: Thu Dec 13, 2007 9:34 pm

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The thread I started about the storm devastation here was strictly to help me deal with it. But this story was just too much fun so I'm blogging it to remember.
DH has been fixing phone lines in storm-damaged areas. Since some major areas are still unreachable (still underwater 2 weeks later!) the company sent him off to tend to the hinterlands. So way out beyond Humptulips (yes, that's it's real name, a tribal name) he went. The lone road to a few scattered homes had washed out completely, leaving nothing but a 10-foot-deep and wide gorge where it had been. And low in that gorge in the middle of nowhere was a broken phone line. The walls were still crumbling as DH walked up to the gap, and he was more than a little concerned about working so deep, 45 highway minutes from the phone garage. So on an off chance, calls out to the unresponsive wild rhododendrons, madrona, and firs. To his amazement, a voice calls back.
"I don't think anyones home", a response aimed at the woodland cabin nearby. Steve (DH, that is) replies that he just wants a spotter as he climbs down into the gap . So out of the woods steps a very kind-faced hunchback.
Seems he'd been riding his quad nearby and a belt broke, so he was headed out to find someone to tow it for him. He stayed to make sure the rocks didn't collapse on DH, and went on his way.
So Steve is working on splicing the phone line in the silence of the woods for awhile. Suddenly, there's a woman standing at the edge of the hole. In Carharts. Just checking on his progress. Seems she hadn't been able to call another fellow, who lived about 3 miles into the woods, so she'd parked her car nearby and hiked the distance in to check on him. In the freezing weather. Made sure he was ok and was now on her way home.
This is the way I remember rural Washington from my childhood. Even the way I remember the once-microscopic-now-bedroom-community that I live in now. I'm so glad there are still places like that out on the penninsula, even if they have to endure names like Humptulips and Lilliwaup!

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A few shots of my studio

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Fri Nov 30, 2007 10:18 pm

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We're still chipping away at the conversion of my greenhouse to a painting studio- if I have to heat the place anyway, I might as well paint in it too!
Probably won't do much now until spring, but it's all sealed in anyways. I'm hoping to chip away at insulating over the winter.
Here's a before shot, with the studio in full-clutter mode and a WIP on the easel. This is looking the same direction as the next couple of shots.

So here's the view from the inside after I'd cleared things away but not removed the wall yet-

And a short time later, with the greenhouse roof removed too-


And with the roof torn off the greenhouse side-


DH on the roof, now with the clear plastic replaced with a solid roof and a dormer built on to let in more light and offer more head room, the doorway in the first pic was moved to the middle of the inside wall, right where the dormer is. The window here was a gift from a friend, pulled from an old house he remodeled years ago.


I've moved my easel back in, redone the erstwhile greenhouse-side floor with sand and concrete pavers, cleaned things up a bit. Still so much to do, but at least I'm making progress. It will be better come spring and warmer weather.

On a completely different note, DH, DD, and I went for a hike to a local beach, and I caught this extremely cute shot of my little girl.

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Speaking of "they almost didn't meet"...

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Fri Nov 16, 2007 4:34 am

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OK, so after reading another gal's blog about the romantic way her grandparents almost didn't meet, I thought I'd record my grandparent's tale.
My grandmother grew up in a tiny logging community here in Washington, with very few prospects for a young woman to seek a career. A hospital in Tacoma was offering young women room, a small stipend, and an education if they would commit to becoming nurses, and Grandma took them up on it. Her diaries of that era record how frugally she lived, and carefully, and of how very proud she was when she finally earned her nurses cap.
Shortly therafter she started working in California. And she recorded hiking in the rural hills outside San Francisco (anyone who'se been there will get a laugh from that, but this was in the early 20's!). She would travel north in her old rattly Ford until the road ended, then take her nurse's bag and sandwich in a small, sturdy boat and paddle out to the reservation of the Hoopah Indian tribe (she loved saying that name even in her 80's!) to tend to the sick.
Well it seems one very rainy day, her old ford broke down. She slogged through the mud to a shack where the fellows from the roads department worked. There she met a very handsome young highway engineer, who later became my grandfather. Though they married a bit later in life, they both lived well into their 80's; he passed away when I was in high school, she went just 9 months before my son was born. Since my husband and I also have an intensely romantic how-we-met story, I'd lay odds that my boy can look forward to that for himself!

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ginkgo card

Category: gardening among the rocks | Posted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 5:12 pm

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betcha thought I was never gonna get round to this, eh? So here's the thank-you card I sent to my friend who gave me a ginkgo tree. Can't think how I managed to flip it, the sun is actually coming from the other side. O well, I'm not computer techie at all.

I highlighted with touches of gold, though I've since bought a fine gold marker, much easier than the ol' dip-pen I used here.

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