Mid-February Adventures in West Seattle (Yes, Bessie stars)

 Two posts in two days? What the hell?!

Scott coerced me into going for a bike ride today though I was feeling particularly lazy and cranky--or maybe because I was a bit cranky. We started out into a heavy mist and I was cold and the world seemed even blearier and grayer than it was because my glasses were rapidly covered in droplets. I said we'd go towards Alki because that would get us a few miles and we'd have the option of throwing the bikes on a bus if it was too miserable by then.

  And it stayed pretty gray, but I warmed up a bit and there were birds on the water. Before we reached Alki I'd stopped for the first photo op of the day: cormorants on pilings against the gray that seemed so thick that it blotted out the downtown skyline. That turns out not to be absolutely true now that I look at the photo: it's just that my glasses were so damned covered in water themselves. 

There's a ferry as well as faint skyline in the background.

I started thinking about Sunfish on Alki soon after the cormorants for some of my crankiness likely came from being hungry and I like to eat a lot of fish in the run-up to Lent. Happily, Scott was agreeable and they were open so we stopped for some quite excellent fish and chips. While we were gorging, the clouds broke up a little and there were tiny hints of sun by the time we emerged. We continued the great circle route, pausing along Constellation Park to admire what I assume were one male and three female  harlequin ducks. I suggested it might be called Harem Island, but Scott thought it was three sisters and their younger brother. Not a great photo, but I so seldom see harlequins this close.

Possibly Anne, Emily, Charlotte, and Branwell

The next pause was at the northern end of the approach to Lincoln Park's beach. It's our normal route, but I've never noticed this fine garage door before so I think it may be fairly recent. Or I may just be unobservant; I didn't recognize the selkie immediately and Scott had to point out the gull above the owl. 

There were still a number of birds out on the water, but the path is a bit tricky with a lot of gravel so I was mostly watching where Bessie and I were going along the beach. Once we got up into the forestesque park above I was able to coast a bit more, listening to birdsong but seeing only a few juncos and, eventually, a robin. I paused to pose Bessie by a few of the quite enchanting trees.

The north side of the tree was indeed, quite mossy. So were all the other sides; that's the way of Seattle trees.

This madrone has certainly seen better days but it was quite gobsmacking nonetheless.

I've felt a particular fondness for Pacific Madrones since working on Cascadia Field Guide, in part because I so love Elizabeth Bradfield's poem, "Succession."

Here and below, the Pacific Madrone pages of Cascadia Field Guide, looking a bit wavy because that's what happens when you try to prop open a 400-page book with a glass candlestick.

So, a close-up of that tree's fine bark:

While at Sunfish, I asked the owner (who had been on vacation the last couple of months) somewhat wistfully if he'd been any place warm during his break because this year Seattle's winter has felt particularly dispiriting. But, truly, I would not live anywhere else.

Flower and Garden Show, Home Edition

 This week is the Northwest Flower & Garden Show in Seattle. For five days, the downtown convention center gets turned into a fantasy land of gobsmacking display gardens, complete with charming pathways and garden features and piles upon piles of blooming flowers. Primroses by the hundreds, stands of daffodils, tulips, hellebore, budding trees, mosses: it's pretty amazing the first time you go. I was utterly enchanted on my initial visit many many years ago. I've been a few times since and, sadly, you never get that full "Oh my god, I'm in Oz" experience again--or at least I never have. But it's a good place to buy stuff, too: I love what I call my Idaho tool that I bought at the show several years ago--alas, I can't find the name of the vendor now or I'd share. [[UPDATED because of course I can find the name by looking at the beloved tool; it's HoeDag.]] I think Noel came from the flower & garden show, as have any number of other fine things.

The Idaho Tool after several years of use and abuse

  But I'm not going to the show this year. As I say, it becomes less striking after you've been a few times, and spending time in a packed convention center just doesn't hold a lot of appeal these days. Instead, before I started working this morning, I took a few minutes to wander around here to be amazed, gobsmacked, and entranced by the local show in the backyard. Photos were taken. Photos are shared, in no particular order:

The green hellebore that was here when we moved in; it has since spread to cracks in the patio, though this is the original, mother plant.

The abstract entry of the photos: an old birdhouse that has been slowly deconstucting over the years.

Extra large, because it features Noel and the snowdrops leading to Gradka's step

The Lenten roses we planted a few years ago: they're the first to bloom each year and are thriving.

Sadly, the metal arches over this bench completely disappear in this shot,

 but I assure you that it is quite charming and will be all the more amazing once the clematis and honeysuckle get going.*

 

 

And, cheating a little by adding in a photo from a few days ago, when the ground was covered in the previous night's hail:

The icy morning birdbath

*absolutely no idea why the captions formatting is so weird or what to do about it.