09.27.08
Pyriform pleasures
Today seemed as good as any to pick the pears. I’ve been keeping my eye on the four fruits the deer left me, three Bartlett and one Bosc, and when I found one of them on the ground–oh! the perfidy!–it was time for them all to come down from their tree-ripening perches.
09.26.08
What now, WaMu?
Oh, dear. Making my news rounds this morning (online, in concentric circles: Seattle Times, New York Times, Guardian) I find this.
So I’ll be doing business with a different bank, no biggie. However, in a strange coincidence, 3 of my neighbors work at Washington Mutual’s headquarters in Seattle, in various capacities–our little street is like WaMu commuter central. I suppose we’ll find out soon what happens to their jobs.
09.24.08
Transit hiccups and giggles
Yesterday evening I intended to take the ferry over to Seattle, but it didn’t happen. My first inkling of a hitch in plans came over the loudspeaker while I was waiting in the walk-on tunnel. The departure was delayed because someone abandoned his car on the ferry over to Bainbridge. When they first made the announcement, the young people in line immediately started acting out the part of the unfortunate, pre-occupied soul who forgot he wasn’t a walk-on passenger. “Oh s&!#!” they exclaimed, slapping their foreheads in gleeful banter.
When the second announcement came, the teenagers wondered aloud, “Damn, how far’s he gonna go? Like Poulsbo? Oh s&!#! My car!” More forehead slapping.
During the next 20 minutes, the Ferry Officials found the name of the driver and called out the name, hoping he was still in the vicinity. More guffaws and banter from the teens, more cell phones flipping open and sighs from the grayhairs. The gentleman behind me, with whom I’d been exchanging sympathetic and rueful smiles, said he knew someone by that name. “But he’s supposed to be teaching math in Indiana.” I agreed that I hoped it wasn’t the same person.
I silently acknowledged a tiny flicker of fear that the abandoned car wasn’t just an oversight, but a deliberate act. I walked back out of the tunnel and bought a drink at the concession stand outside the terminal, killed some time, and walked back in to hear the announcement that my sailing was cancelled. Since the next one didn’t leave for half an hour and would get me to Seattle after the metro tunnel closed, there wasn’t any point in going over.
I still don’t know what they did with the car. Jimmy it open, release the emergency brake, and push it off? Sail with it on board all night? I’ll be riding over again tonight, and we’ll see what interesting thing happens this time.
09.20.08
A muted, misty day
…doesn’t faze the kids at all. My defenses against all the ratbaggery? The aquarium and cuddle-bug games.
This would be A’s favorite cuddle-bug game at present, called, “Fly with a death wish.” He’s the frog, see?
09.16.08
The more you do it, the less it hurts
It turns out to be kind of a long trek from B.I. to the University of Washington by ferry and bus, but I did it tonight and back and I’ll be doing it a bunch more in the near future. And once classes start next week, I’ll have plenty to do en route. I’m just a bit terrified right now: it’s been 10 years!
I got off the ferry and saw this gorgeous sunset.
It was absolutely, denimly dark by the time I reached Denny Hall, where I’ll have my English class. I think of it as the Parisian building because the stone is so much lighter than the other buildings.
And a night shot (not very good, but I couldn’t resist) of the great cathedral of learning, the Suzzallo Library.
Changing colors and casual conversation: sometimes so vivid
I took this picture at noon today, at the edge of Waterfront Park looking south across Eagle Harbor. The man sitting on the bench to my right remarked on these trees I was admiring: they aren’t native; there aren’t really any native trees that turn such a bright red. Probably maples that people planted for the color. Pretty, though, aren’t they?
I asked him how he came by his knowledge, and M. told me how he’d grown up here, spent his whole life immersed in the place and the history and the culture; how his ancestor was the Suquamish tribal chief, and about his vision quest near Eagle Harbor.
Such ties to a physical location seem so rare. Thank you, M, for strengthening my tenuous ties to this place.
09.13.08
Ankle-biters, I really do love you
Especially at that time of year when the blackberries are hanging thick and ripe and every park and wild space becomes a bit of Eden:
And with this extension of summer, picking never was such sweet suffering (did you know that blackberry juice is the exact same color as blood?)–don’t worry, I wash my berries 
.
09.07.08
Early Autumn at Bloedel Reserve
This uprooted tree seemed quite lovely. Beautiful in its death; a sepulchral sculpture.
And here’s another beautiful sight to me: my mother’s and my daughter’s hands. They were sitting outside the Japanese house I covet.
Encaustic class
While on a Winslow Way stroll with my parents, I came across an encaustic demo outside Oil and Water. This is my new favorite medium, and it was a fascinating lesson: a lot of tools, few rules.
These white pellets are melting beeswax, which you prime your birch board with.
Then you get a little pigment and mix it with the medium (a mixture of beeswax and resin) and paint it on.
A heat gun, an iron, or a blowtorch (if your project is a big one) melts away the brush strokes, adds texture, or smoothes out the surface.
Encaustics are by nature luminous, nuanced, and sort of impressionist. I think I’ll try it this winter, when I’m craving something warm and glowing.
A green limerick
There once was a little green frog
Who thought he’d come visit my blog:
One morning at four*,
I opened the door
And the frog bounded in like a dog!
*not really; it was more like 9 cause I roll that way, but 9 doesn’t rhyme, now, does it?
