The goats were sheared. I saved some of the wool and rinsed it out. It's beautiful—white, wavy, soft and long. The wool of the Angora goat and the Lincoln sheep is similar and is especially lustrous and desirable for spinning and weaving.
Today was incredible...clear and sunny. We sat at Starbucks for an hour reading, writing and watching the action on the beach and water. We saw ferries coming and going and the Holland-America Amsterdam pull out heading for Alaska. We love life in West Seattle...
We found these apples at a store that was closing. They're made of wood, but it looks as if you could bite into one.
We drove to Seabeck on Friday. I wanted to see it, since it is a big part of Bob's childhood. We whipped ourselves into a frenzy of nostalgia...the swimming hole, cabins and dining hall for Bob and the general store and memories of prying little green crabs from under rocks for me. My favorite part of the day was having burgers in the diner.
Your work is to keep cranking the flywheel that turns the gears that spin the belt in the engine of belief that keeps you and your desk in midair.
We were young yesterday— how did this happen?
We took sandwiches to the lake. The tuna in mine dropped on the ground into the goosepoop. Otherwise, a lovely day lollygagging in the sun and shooting photos with our phun photo apps.
Yesterday we had a meeting downtown in a standard generic office building with absolutely no character and a pretty austere lobby. We got there early and while we waited, I played with my iPhone and latest camera app, OldPhotoPro. This is the result. This lobby is in a parallel universe I wish we could visit.
I've been walking on Alki, trying to maintain speed and aerobic benefits, but there are so many awesome things to look at that I keep hauling out my cell phone to take pictures. There's a blue bottle garden, and a couple of doors down a cement wall with a graffiti painting of a graffiti painting. Who could ask for more.
Bob should get a discount on his insurance for surfing safely. His helmet even has a rear-view mirror for seeing people sneak up behind him.
On Saturday, Ry & Michelle had a big party at their place. The barn trim was freshly painted, the petunias planted and the lawn mowed. Rudy and Lightning made it seem like a movie set. Everyone had a turn feeding Lightning, so she was stuffed with apple treats. Her nose is so velvety when she snuffles at your palm. The kids and their guests floated around the pool on inflatable mattresses. The food was good and to cap it off the donkeys were in the pasture across the street with their babies. We could see their ears sticking out of the tall grass.
Rudy is beautiful, has a great personality, doesn't jump on me, follows instructions, and is unlike Percy & Jack, who had to place their paws on my shoulders, ate pot holders and sofa cushions and the spine off Bob's leather bound copy of Democracy in America, by Alexis de Tocqueville.
Ready for the barbecue...all cleaned up, mowed, flower pots filled, greenhouse organized. Now we just need sun.
Our first camping trip of the season...our first camping trip of the past 10 years, actually. It was also the first sunny weekend since last summer...well maybe I exaggerate...but it was wonderful to see the sunlight filter down through the maple leaves. I had forgotten how good breakfast tastes when cooked on a camp stove and how soundly we sleep in our tent. I did think (for just a moment) that I heard a bear's stomach growling in the shrubs, but didn't want to get up to look. I had forgotten what a challenge it is to wake up at midnight and grope around for my flashlight and shoes and what a comforting sight the lights of the restrooms are through the trees beyond the dumpsters. We even had guests. Jim & Jean came down from White Rock, Canada, just over the border—we shared tea and shortbread, and Bob & Juanita joined us for dinner (Juanita brought an incredibly delicious soup, a gourmet touch to our hamburgers and Costco salads).
We had two days of quiet before the weekend...when all the campers, trailers, tents, kids, bicycles, radios, generators, and dogs arrived...and all worries of bears (or even squirrels, raccoons or wildlife of any kind) departed.
On Sunday, it took an hour or so to pack the car and be ready to leave. Bob reminded me that the plains Indians could break camp in 20 minutes...maybe next time.
“It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.” —Anne Sexton
The one sunny day was just a fluke. It’s just not right...we’re starting to wonder how we can adapt our lives to cope with a permanent gray, wet, moldy climate: • special sunlight bulbs in all our rooms • fans simulating warm ocean breezes • CDs of bird calls and children playing • seasonal foods flown in from wherever they have seasons • white noise to drown out the sound of dripping
It’s a start.
Looking across the Strait of Georgia as the sun sets. It changes with every passing second. We talk about how lucky we are to live in the Pacific Northwest.
A day to bask in the warmth, like a lizard on a hot rock. I helped Michelle rake and move pots around the garden, fed treats to the horse, took a turn pushing the kids in the tire swing, worked on a mosaic, drank lemonade...then discovered that I'd lost my car keys. By that I mean I lost a 5 pound set of keys with 1 remote control car opener and 1 remote garage opener, car key, truck key, elevator key, gate key, mailbox key and key to the kid's house with a large carabiner to hold them all together.
Before I go back today to retrace my steps through the house, barn and 3 acres looking for them, you can bet I'll use some mojo...perhaps an incantation to St. Anthony—
and must be found!
and maybe a sacrifice. Oh, never mind with the sacrifice.
Tomorrow is the last day of April and an old verse from childhood has flashed through my mind:
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and no wonder,
All the rest eat peanut butter,
and she drives a Buick.
I Googled it to see if I had it right and found about 20 other versions.
Learning the months of the year, how to tell time & fractions were the most stressful aspects of primary school. Except for the day Robert Zimmerman threw up in our classroom and the janitor came in and threw sawdust on it while the rest of us hung our heads out of the second story window. OMG, now I can't stop thinking of the trials of third grade. The days Miss Thompson wouldn't let us leave until we could tell the time on our pie-plate clocks, or see Jesus in a picture of vegetation, or standing in front of the class reciting some of the more hideous verses of Proverbs. And the terrible day they were asphalting the playground and the men with the dripping, black-smoke belching, asphalt melting barrels told us that if we inhaled it it would make us smart.That held as much appeal as the witch's oven in Hansel & Gretel, but we did it anyway and staggered back to our classes after recess.
Bob brought home these dazzling flowers and a mixed dozen fresh-this-morning brown & blue eggs. They were delicious. I ran to my computer and looked up chicken raising. Maybe I could pay the children to feed & clean...but there are cats...and coyotes...but what if I build a sturdy chicken coop...
I took the flower pic with my cell phone.
egg photo source