K after performing three gorgeous songs at this year’s NATS competition.
Miss S and her mother
Much of the time now, Seattle from the ferry looks like an Impressionist painting with one serene color on the painter’s palette.
I’ve been more interested in chopping stuff up lately instead of baking or cooking–this is my new favorite salsa:
- 2 pomegranates
- 1 avocado
- a bunch of cilantro
- 4 or 5 green onions
- salt and pepper
I worried that a mouthful would feel like a lot of woody roughage from the pomegranate seeds, but they’re completely hidden by the crunchiness of corn chips!
It’s the last leaf on our baby Japanese maple, and the week A turned 14.
November whirled in with hours of snow yesterday, though none of it stuck, with the temperature hovering at 34 degrees or warmer. We’re in this magical, paradoxical, liminal season of brilliant decaying leaves, crisp air that smells like wood fires and pine needles, and on this Saturday afternoon, tea, good books, and GF goodies from Jake’s Pickup.
The hummingbirds are still here!
I think they might be Anna’s Hummingbirds, which have started to stay through the winter in Seattle. There’s at least one of these minuscule beauties around our house who lets me get very close; it was one of my summer projects to tame it by stints of sitting right under the feeder to read. I had to turn my pages very slowly.
Tasha’s with her beloved egg for herding–she’ll stick her nose under it and drive it forward at mad-dash speeds, but because of its ovate shape, she can’t accurately predict its path. She’ll buck it up in the air, travel a few feet with it bouncing on her forehead, change directions and race with it crunching through the park leaves (cottonwood) or our yard (Japanese maple) while we cheer her on or giggle at her antics.
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Last night we had fun with an idea from a Neil Gaiman tweet: type in ‘I was born’ and then write your autobiography from your predictive text on your phone.
Here’s S’s: I was born and I don’t want you so bad. My family is going on in my head.
Here’s B’s: I was born in the future. I have a patient who just consulted with the pharmacist for you to grab my love.
Here’s mine: I was born in the orange bag with the water in my house. Hi, I hope you’re doing good. Hope your day was wonderful. You are wonderful.
This is the majority of my costume this year: a diction fairy crown. 🙂
The afternoon of this Halloween was quieter around our house than any year before. It’s sunny and dry for the first time in a decade of Halloweens here, and in the garden, we’re still picking cherry tomatoes; I went out this afternoon and found some extra little jewels: late-ripening raspberries from our newly-transplanted canes!
This Saturday Bainbridge Island Art Museum opened their gorgeous Dia de los Muertos celebration.
S wanted her senior photos outdoors, in nature–that was the extent of her request for a setting that would reflect her personality. Helpful, clever, insightful, effervescent, S at 17 years old is a joy.
Bonus: I get to be her English teacher this year! 🙂
Photos taken at Battle Point Park by our lovely, super-talented friend M.W. (at http://www.falafelandthebee.com)
Part of S’s 17th birthday celebration: a camping trip and hiking Mount Ellinor, the southern-most peak along the eastern front of the Olympics. Some of the trail looks like this:That was an easy bit. There are occasional scrambly parts too.
Snowfields in August are a delight!
About half-way up, and already above the clouds.
At the summit!
Lake Cushman to the right; the Hood Canal to the left.I adore my S girl to the moon and back and I love that she wanted a hike for her birthday. 🙂
Antelope Island, UT. The littlest bison are prone to sudden scampers and the birdsong is glorious.
Hood Canal, WA on the Kitsap side. Early in the morning, I couldn’t see or hear another soul. Good place for walking and thinking.
Volunteer Park in Capitol Hill was a really lovely setting for the Seattle Chamber Music Society’s free concert; Borodin’s String Quintet in f minor with cellist Edward Arron was intense and lyrical.
A culmination of eight years of voice lessons: an evening of music and commentary in the gorgeous space at Grace Episcopal, provided by K, her accompanist CS, and a bit of background information on Fauré and Debussy by me.
Back at home. 🙂 We’re so proud of K for her work over the years to hone her craft and create beauty. Seeing the deluge of flowers and love from people present and far, I realized I was experiencing a parenting king tide.
The Last Rose of Summer (Irish Folk Song)
Jeune Fillette (a Bergerette: a Pastoral Ditty)
Nel Cor Piu Non Mi Sento (G. Paisiello)
Green Finch and Linnet Bird from Sweeney Todd (S. Sondheim)
Voi Che Sapete from The Marriage of Figaro (W.A. Mozart)
Bist Du Bei Mir (J.S. Bach)
I’m Nobody (poem by Emily Dickinson, music by V. Persichetti)
Ma Rendi pur Contento (V. Bellini)
Poor Wandering One from The Pirates of Penzance (W.S. Gilbert and A. Sullivan)
Les Berceaux (G. Fauré)
Beau Soir (C. Debussy)
Where the Music Comes From (L. Hoiby)
Earlier in the month, K’s last recital of the year with her voice teacher:
The Bainbridge in Bloom garden tour is an annual event on the island, hosted by private garden owners, and produced by the Bainbridge Arts & Humanities Council. They hire musicians to play throughout the gardens, and yesterday I got to experience two gorgeous places as I sang with my women’s chamber group, Byway.
I figured out what these are: Allium Nectaroscordum, or Mediterranean bells. The bees love them.
Also, Bainbridge Artisan Resource Network (BARN) had their open house on Saturday afternoon. The concept is progressive and brilliantly executed; it’s a community gathering point for physical resources and materials as well as knowledgable, talented individuals who teach and guide. There are 11 studios: Book Arts, Fiber Arts, Glass Arts, Kitchen Arts, Metal Arts, Electronic and Technical Arts, Jewelry and Fine Metals, Media Arts, Printmaking, Woodworking and Small Boat Building, and Writers.
I want to do it all!
Heading out for BHS prom (K lent me a dress, so even though she wasn’t there, her sparkle was).
Dinner at Cafe Paloma with P and D beforehand was such a treat that I was tempted to stay and talk much longer. We did stay until closing once, with R and her brother J when she was here on a rare visit to Seattle.
I love Seattle in the summer–when we left the restaurant after 8 pm, the light was still glorious against the downtown buildings while we walked north to the art museum. As a prom venue, the Seattle Art Museum has some cons: required catering service so pricey that the food for the evening was ice water; echoing space=few smaller rooms in which to congregate and talk. It also has some pros; the art collections on the third floor are very cool, especially their Northwestern Native American collection.
I was struck by the hi-low atmosphere of young adults in formal dress wandering through the galleries while rock music surged through the museum. It’s representative of late adolescence, which embraces contradictions and is extraordinarily open to multiple ways of seeing things. I’m really going to miss this graduating class–In Don DeLillo’s words, “it is not possible to see too much in them.”
S’s been gone for three days on a sailing regatta with the BHS team. We’re missing her, including Tasha, who’s never quite herself when S’s gone.
This was the regatta that the BHS sailing team hosted last month here in Eagle Harbor. It was a rare bright day, so I watched for a while from Pritchard Park.
It’s been a cold, rainy spring, the wettest on record. It’s been a challenging time for many reasons, full of wakefulness in the wee hours of the morning. Latest book finished this way: Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Marriage Plot.
G and P are off to Boston for awhile; we went to a surprise party for them on the 7:05 crossing this morning. When the boat’s almost empty, ferry parties are perfect in some ways–no one has to host, and there’s a clearly-defined end when external forces prompt you to say goodbye to the departing ones.