Blurry Edges

I'm drawn to this photograph for many reasons. Yes, I used  this picture in my last blog post, the provocative, "world turned upside down" soothsayer entry. But, I return today to study the colors, the shapes of the trees, the blurry edges, and the specks of white that dot the scene.  This is a lowly I phone picture taken at the Japanese Garden at Manito Park in Spokane over the Labor Day weekend two weeks ago. I was standing on a wooden bridge that crossed over a serene pool swimming with koi. At once mesmerizing and calming, I felt a slight breeze of cool air in the midst of a very warm day. I looked down into the water and the reflection of the shimmering trees and clouds above looked back at me. The visual experience was, let's say, "nice" at the time and I thought a photo remembrance might be good. I'd been taking I phone pictures all afternoon and this one was just another.

But, when I actually had time to look at this photograph, I connected more deeply.The colors are lovely and muted. The water and sky become one and the reflected trees are upside down, their crispness distorted into  blurred edges.  Reminds me a bit of a 19th century painting by Manet or Monet. There is mystery and magic here.

Perception is not reality and reality is not perception.

I am awash in changing emotions and thoughts. The photograph gives me some comfort right now and this is what I need most.

Roughing It (not) in Chelan

A short vacation in the middle of May is a nice treat. This is the second year I've accompanied Denny to his WSMA sponsored Leadership Development Conference. This is half work, half play for him and all play for me. I'm not an attendee at the conference; rather just along for the experience of sunny Chelan, the views of the lake, wineries, and plenty of rest. We're staying in a great room overlooking the lake with a deck that was quite pleasant this morning as I sipped a cup of coffee. Ahhhhh. Wonderful.

Last year I found a lovely bookstore on the main street of the small town of  Chelan called Riverwalk Books and bought the Locavore Way. I can't walk passed a used bookstore or an Indie bookseller and not go in for a look. Even though I'm reading most of my books on a Kindle or listening to audiobooks in the car, I bought two that look like good reads. I can't get away from the feel of a book in hand. There's not substitute.
 

I'm headed out for a walk soon. The day is perfection; cloudless blue and low 70's. Last year we had low clouds and cooler temperatures. There's no predicting Washington weather. I'll take today over just about anything else.

Mama Duck and her ducklings

View of Lake Chelan from hotel deck

If it Explodes in Fuschia; it's May in Seattle

The burst of May 2012 color

Blackberry Picking Time

The blackberry crop in Discovery Park seems picked clean this year. Either that, or I don't know where to look anymore. Denny and I spent an hour amongst the brambles and thorns yesterday and barely came away with enough berries for the large pan of blackberry cobbler I'm planning to make for next Saturday's picnic in the park. The big, juicy berries were few and far between, replaced by smaller, more tenaciously attached brothers and sisters. We managed to pluck enough though and today I prepared the base for the cobbler. I'll refrigerate it until Saturday morning and then put on the crumble topping and pop it in the oven. Yum; the taste of summer (in September....)

There are several other blackberry treats we crave this time of year in addition to cobbler. Today I tried picking at a site on Magnolia Boulevard where my Dad used to go back in the day. Mom always worried about him getting hit by a car picking in this area; the bushes butt up to the roadside in some areas. I steered clear of those places although the berries were lush and big on those vines hanging into the street.  I managed to score a large sized container full of berries in 45 minutes or so.

Back home the berries went into the juicer and now I've got the fixings for blackberry sorbet and for blackberry mojitos later on in the week. That juicer rarely gets used except for this purpose. If you want a  pure, seedless juice out of these little jewels, run them through this machine and a rich, dark syrup is all that remains.

I'm looking forward to Saturday's picnic in the park. Hopefully this glorious weather will hold. September is such a beautiful month in Seattle.

Blackberries (and Stinging Nettle)

First of the season

I drove to Discovery Park yesterday afternoon to check out the blackberry situation. From year to year the peak of the season varies anywhere from early August to early September. I think we're in for a late harvest this year. Slim pickins yesterday although I only made one stop. The best place to pick involved a hike and I wasn't quite up for that.  Here's what I did gather. Still a bit tart, waiting for the sun to kiss them with sweetness.

I can't wait for the offical taste-of-summer, the blackberry cobbler with a dollop of whipped cream. Ahhhhh.

Denny requests  blackberry sorbet which involves running the berries through the juicer to get the seeds out, leaving behind pure blackberry juice, perfect for ice cream or sorbet. We'll enjoy that taste as well. when the berries proliferate.

Blackberry bushes challenge even the best pickers to steer clear of their thorns when reaching deep into the depths of the green to pluck off the ripe fruit. Yesterday, my strategy was superior until the underside of my right forearm grazed against none other than a lurking stinging nettle bush hidden in amongst the blackberry vines. In all my years of picking, that's never happened. Go figure.

The stinging nettle may be great for specific medicinal and culinary purposes, but the leaves pack a punch characterized by annoying and persistent burning invoked by even an insignifiant encounter.  Seems the best cure is time; several days of tingling pain and it should be over. I'll need to mind the nettles from now on, especially in the area I was picking yesterday.

Blackberries: get your sweet on! I want my cobbler!

On the Road to Spokane

 

The 290 mile drive from Seattle to Spokane breaks down into 3 pieces. Seattle to Ellensburg involves an uphill drive to the Snoqualmie Summit and downhill into the valley beyond. I love Ellensburg because the Dairy Queen makes for a perfect first stop. Gotta love those soft serve cones. 

Top that little treat off with one of these to fuel the remainder of the journey and I'm set for the next 200 miles through parts 2 and 3 of the trip.

I

The next 100 miles winds up-hill through dry scrub and sandstone cliffs, bluffs, and wide open views. Then, a downhill descent to the Columbia River follows with another uphill past the Gorge and the miniscule town of George, WA. 

The final stretch is flat, flat, flat through fields, the townships of Moses Lake and Ritzville, and on into Spokane. The first Ponderosa pine tree tells me I'm getting onto the home stretch.  Love those evergreens.

Arrival in Spokane; trip accomplished. Time to enjoy the weekend with my daughter.

Still Beautiful

These yellow tulips were lovely when fresh and a week later still charming. Fresh flowers bring so much joy. I buy some for Dad and another bunch for me.

Spring is here even if the rain, wind, and chill won't leave.

Waxing Fall Leaves

I've been collecting fall leaves of different shapes and colors for the last weeks and pressing them beneath a heavy book to keep them from curling up on the edges. Several days ago, I got them out, turned on the stove burner under a pot of paraffin and "waxed" them, a technique I learned from my Mom and she in turn from her mother.

Every November Mom would gather autumn leaves in Discovery Park and wax them for me. I'd use them to decorate the Thanksgiving table. Several years ago, I asked her to teach me. We took an outing to the military cemetery in the park, a site for amazingly large, yellow maple leaves. Then she taught me how to dip them. Properly.

Waxing leaves is quite easy. What's hard is resisting the temptation to get the wax too hot. Mom cautioned against this but mostly from the standpoint of risk..."a real fire hazard", she warned. What I learned is that wax that's a bit too hot burns the leaves; they lose their original color and crinkle up on the edges. Oh well, they still look pretty good and I'll use them this Thanksgiving.

pre-wax

post-wax

 Happy (early) Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday to be sure.

Comfort Food/Comfort Weekend

Ever been to Troutdale, Oregon to experience an enormous, steaming bowl of chicken and dumplings with a side of green beans and bits of ham? Tads has been in business for decades, the chicken 'n dumplins famous since the 1940's. Check out this feast and those who enjoyed the delicious comfort food on a stormy October evening.

Mega Dumplins

Photo taken by Tina

We've had a wonderful weekend at Tina and Wayne's home in Vancouver, joined by Heather and Chris. Despite the intermittent rain, we did make it to the Japanese Gardens in Portland and Multonmah Falls. Thanks to Tina for sharing her photographs with me. My camera was nowhere to be found when I packed for the trip.

Multnomah Falls; Denny and me on bridge to right

A very good day was had by all.

The Waters of Crater Lake

This photograph was taken by Bebin Cypher, a friend from high school who I've not seen in decades but with whom I've reconnected via FaceBook. I asked Bebin if I could post this beautiful image of the waters of Crater Lake on my blog.  I've never visited Crater Lake (Oregon) but it's on my list.

I could get lost in this image. Inviting and comforting. Peaceful. Magnificent.

Water. Without it, we perish.

Last night I dreamed of water; swimming amidst the creatures of the deep.

Last evening I cried until I could cry no more. More water.

Water. Without it, we perish.

The Power of Water

I'm not a surfer. The thought of riding a wave (literally)....well, it's just not me.

But something about the power of moving water makes me dizzy with excitement. Today I ordered a copy of  Susan Casey's new book, The Wave which hits shelves of bookstores today. Hot off the press, the book enjoys great early reviews that excite my imagination. I want to learn more about what powers those waves, where they come from, and as the dust jacket tempts, I long for the excitement inherent "in (the) pursuit of the rogues, freaks and giants of the ocean".

I witnessed the gorgeous mystery and magic of roiling ocean all of my young life, growing up on an island in the southern Caribbean. Warned of the inherent dangers of rogue waves and under-tow currents I was cautious and respectful of the deep blue sea whether she rolled on to sandy shores or crashed into volcanic, rocky cliff. Always timid, never a wild child; I was an observer of the unpredicatable side of water.

I look forward to reading The Wave.  I've certainly enjoyed viewing YouTube videos of daredevil big wave surfers. Maybe in another life....

Check this video. Amazing.

The High Line

Earlier this month when in NYC for the BlogHer Conference, my sister and I walked through one of the city's newest parks, The High Line. Built along the route of an old, elevated railway adjacent to the Hudson River on Manhattan's lower west side, the park preserves the feel of the old railway yet surrenders the space for a public park. Concerned citizens came together with a vision to preserve this run down part of the city extending from 14th to 30th streets. The project progresses in stages; we walked the portion completed from W 14th to W 20th Streets. The final plan includes parkway up to W 30th Street in the second phase.

This park delights. Artwork, native plants, preserved portions of old train track, clever public seating; wind tunnels that catch the natural breeze on a warm day; this park offers up the works. We were smitten and seriously impressed.

The High Line website offers a link to the public art of the park. My favorite, and the topic for another blog post, would be Spencer Finch's The River that Flows Both Ways (the Indian word for the Hudson River is Muhheakuntuck, referring to the natural flow of the river in two directions). More about this coming....the artist attempts to explore the "impossible quest for the color of water."  Ahhhhh. That would also be a quest of mine but in words.

The High Line....a great place to visit.

Heading for the Coast

D and I are headed to the Washington coast today; a few days at a hotel near Ocean Shores. Shhhhh.....in addition to walks on the beach we're taking in the Quinault Casino. We play the slots and never win or lose much more than twenty bucks at a time. Neither of us can stand to lose money. It's all good, although a walk on the beach will likely pay off  in the realm of spiritual renewal much more than a smoky, loud gambling hall.

I had a most perfect birthday yesterday.  D made it wonderful from start to finish.  The Wave will find eventually find its ideal spot in our home; probably upstairs in our bedroom. I spend so much time lying in bed writing (as I do now) that I'm tempted to place The Wave within view for inspiration.

Instead of cake, which I'm almost certain to have eaten every single birthday of my life, I ate pie. Weary of cake and craving fruit pie, we enjoyed a "Forest Pie" (boysenberry, marionberry, and blueberry) with

vanilla ice cream after a dinner of filet mignon and baked potato.  All at home.....we had toyed with the idea of going out to eat but since we'll be eating out on our two days away, home seemed best. He's chef extraordinaire (for the savory; the pie came from Whole Foods).

Now to pack up a small bag and head to the coast. Life is sweet. Life is good. August and the dusty days are almost over!!! I'm feeling better already.

Happy Birthday Wave Sculpture

Today is my 56th Birthday.  Check out what my dear husband gifted me with today.....in honor of our mutual love of the wave, my passion for blogging at Ahead of the Wave and the celebration of this, my special day.

Earlier this summer we stumbled on the gorgeous glass sculptures of David Wight displayed in an art gallery in LaConner, Washington. David creates his art in Bellingham, sharing his passion for the wave by depicting the three dimensional form the instant before the wave breaks, the precise moment of peak power.  He says: "With my sculpture I work to capture the beauty, grace, and power of water in its most dynamic form: the wave.Using the molten liquid of hot glass, I endeavor to create, by hand, a glass sculpture that embodies the essence of movement in water. Each sculpture is distinctly unique."

Oh my, but I love this glorious piece of art. The colors, the form, the force of movement caught in a single instant, frozen in time.

So beautiful from every angle, forceful yet graceful, the impending implosion of water against water, spraying foam and power, taking my breath away.

When the Battery in the Camera Poops Out...

Marquis for (probably) the best play I've ever seen

When the battery in my camera gave out this morning, I knew it was TIME, time to head home. And so it is; I'll board a plane this afternoon and 5 hours later step off in Seattle. I hear the weather is rainy and cool; 65 degrees compared to 95 degrees in New York City.

I'll post more about my trip once home. There's much to share about The Highline Park and the Broadway plays we saw, in particular Next to Normal which blew me away.

Cattails  in High Line Park, NYC

Art and Life

Paul Cezanne 

 

 

 

Skyline Divide Hike, Mt. Baker, WA

Still whirling from the contrast between the wilderness of the North Cascade Mountains and the sophistication of the big city, I found these images an interesting visual comment on art and life.

From the Woods to Times Square

Sunday and Monday Denny and I camped 25 feet from the south fork of the Nooksack River, all sounds but rushing water drowned out.

Tonight I'm in the big city, amidst mobs of people and honking taxicabs. The contrast is....well, leaving me a bit tongue tied.

What I do know is that 48 hours in the wilderness with a can of Deep Woods OFF spray left me free of all bug bites. Who knew that I'd benefit from the spray here in the city?  My legs are peppered with mosquito bites after our walk tonight to Times Square and back. Hmmmm.

More later. Much more.

The Moment is Now...

We were here to witness the sweet unfolding and the intoxicating aroma permeating the night air. We awoke to the bloom spent, her glorious moments passed. Live in the now. Life is short.

From Wilderness to the Big City

My upcoming week is all about contrasts of locale and intention. From feet soaking in the icy cold Nooksack River to feet pounding the pavement of the Big Apple, I'll take it all in and focus on the present moment. Hopefully.

It's Saturday and I'm preparing for a two day tent camping trip into the North Cascades with Denny. One of  our most favorite places in Washington is a campground near Mt. Baker, 40 miles east of Bellingham. When the kids were young we camped in this glorious locale annually, for several years in tents and in later years hauling our sturdy Coleman "pop-up" trailer which offered more amenities like a kitchen, toilet, and shower. As the kids grew older, they (and we to some degree) lost interest in hiking and camping so we let many years pass taking other types of vacations (like cruises across the ocean blue). Now that our children are grown, it'll be just D and me on this camping trip. We're planning a hike, one of the hikes we attempted but never finished back in the day because someone in our foursome (who will remain nameless) wore flip flops instead of tennis shoes and we didn't realize until we exited the car at the trail head some15 miles from the main road. Sigh.We always vowed we'd come back to take that hike "someday". 

My favorites when camping?  Drinking wine with my feet in the rushing river. Sleeping in the tent with the only sound the river water flowing over stones and boulders twenty yards away. Drinking my morning coffee to the smell of wood smoke and the sound of a crackling fire. Glorious.

We'll just arrive home from the "wilderness" and I'll shift gears to begin packing my bag for New York City and the BlogHer Conference. I'll be bringing comfortable but stylish clothing,  some uber cute shoes, make-up bag, and laptop; ready to take in all the conference offers as well as the sights and sounds of the Big City.

I understand there's a bed bug infestation in NYC. Guess that will be my connection back to wilderness and nature. 

Quite a contrast.

Loving it.

"For Many are Called but Few are Chosen"

" For many are called, but few are chosen."
              Matthew 22: 14 (King James Bible)

Why am I thinking of this passage from the Bible? For one thing, I've heard my mother quote this passage  many, many times as a young girl growing up.  Trouble is, I can't remember the context. I might take a risk and ask her now. Her mind for topics unrelated to the present moment can be spot on; she might be able to enlighten me.

This biblical quote comes to mind every time I stop to inspect our night blooming cereus plant. Each summer we can expect to witness the magnificence of at least two blooms from this scraggly mess of a plant that sits in our bedroom near the south facing glass doors to the deck. This summer I've watched as several small buds have appeared; the promise of a blooming flower weeks away. And then, mysteriously, the young buds dry up and fall off the plant. Of all that attempted the journey to maturity, only one has held the course. Tonight may be the night she blooms. I see the telltale puffiness of the still tightly enfolded bud, the sign of readiness for the one night of glory. Night blooming cereus flowers bloom in the fading light of dusk and last but for six to eight hours before they die, limp and dangling on the stalk that once supported their growth to magnificence.

This photo from two weeks ago shows the maturing flower bud growing off the side of the green leaf.







Earlier this week, it was clear this bloom would achieve its moment of majesty.

The bulging, nascent white of the petals say that tonight may be "the night".






These dessicated baby buds never made it. There were likely many others that I didn't find, involuted and returned to the earth before their moment in the moonlight. 

Indeed. "For many are called, but few are chosen."