Plus ca change

 Mr Jonas Brown, a character in The MacDermots of Ballycloran, published in 1847, sounds so familiar:

 Jonas Brown was hated by the poor. In every case he would, if he had
the power, visit every fault committed by them with the severest
penalty awarded by the law. He was a stern, hard, cruel man, with
no sympathy for any one, and was actuated by the most superlative
contempt for the poor, from whom he drew his whole income. He was
a clever, clear-headed, avaricious man; and he knew that the only
means of keeping the peasantry in their present utterly helpless and
dependent state, was to deny them education, and to oppose every
scheme for their improvement and welfare. He dreaded every movement
which tended to teach them anything, and when he heard of landlords
reducing their rents, improving cabins, and building schools, he
would prophesy to his neighbour, Sir Michael, that the gentry would
soon begin to repent of their folly, when the rents they had reduced
were not paid, the cabins which they had made comfortable were filled
with ribbonmen, and when the poor had learnt in the schools to
disobey their masters and landlords. 

 --from page 263 of the Penguin edition of The MacDermots of Ballycloran

 though lifted here from the project gutenberg site.

No mileage--just a pair of happy grebes

 

What's not to love about pied-billed grebes?

 

Unless, of course, you're a wee fish

Gusty Sunday Afternoon Fly-by Cycle Update

Hot cocoa in the Paddington mugs and rain-bedewed tulips in sopping wet Kraft-paper wrapping;

 it must be Seattle's version of March Madness*

Some days, I feel, I should get to quadruple my distance numbers due to conditions. Today is wet and windy; gusts up to 50mph are predicted. Vendors at the farmers market looked like sailors on the high seas to me, while Scott thought they resembled subway riders; either way they were all wearing wet-weather gear, holding the supports for their tents with an upraised arm while swaying a bit themselves. It was quite jaunty-looking, really, but must have been miserable. We were pretty soaked ourselves as well and we found that no matter how hard we squeezed our brakes on the ride home (downhill, on cold wet streets), we didn't actually come to a complete stop. Fortunately traffic was light and we thought to check our brakes early on so we never allowed ourselves to build up any real speed. Still, it was good to get home. I immediately started making cocoa, while Scott brought the bikes in. 

So, a stinky two miles on the day, but surely we get some sort of bragging rights, right? And on the year:

*I've no idea what is going on with the caption formatting there.

 

Spring Equinox Weekend

I always think of Alex quoting Harvey Manning when I see one of these little bits of blue sky.

Saturday we rode for 24 miles in order to visit the Montlake Fill for the first time in over a year and also, okay, to see what Byen Bakeri might happen to have left in its cases at 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon. (Answer: croissants, cookies, and tempting but too fragile for pannier transportation cakes and tarts.) 

Bikes at a bakery. Again.

The forecast warned of rain, but Scott (quoting Madi Carlson quoting her grandmother) pointed out that we weren't made of sugar so we packed ourselves up and set out. Spoiler alert: it started bucketing down by the time we'd reached Fremont on the return trip and we were utterly soaked before we reached South Lake Union. The trail that runs parallel to Westlake is handy, but it has some serious puddles as we discovered. I suggested that we should check into the Mayflower Hotel and order room service and I'm not sure I was entirely joking. Instead we continued home to West Seattle, wheezing our way up the final hill. I found I truly was wet to the skin (I still haven't attempted to re-waterproof the sleeves of my cycling jacket) so I showered while Scott put together restorative cocktails. 

Cormorants against a backdrop of cranes

But the Fill was a good time and well worth risking hypothermia, frostbite, and other cold injuries. (Seriously, trench foot seemed likely.) It was oddly busy--a lot of teens and twenty-somethings out with inexpensive binoculars and guidebooks at one end of the spectrum and a pair of quite young photographers with mammoth camera lenses at another end of my imaginary range. The Fill has changed a bit since my last visit: the old parking lot that was being converted to wetland is now a sea of cattails, while Scott mourned the loss of more than one tree. The birds, I've got to admit, didn't seem to care one way or another, though maybe that's not true. We used to see killdeer in that parking lot and on this visit it was home to some dueling blackbirds and a black-capped chickadee who was quite dedicated to tearing apart a cattail--looking for bugs? just showing off its cattail-destruction prowess for a potential mate? I can't say. 

The old parking lot from across the canal

There were shovelers on shoveler pond and plenty of water birds wintering over water though, technically, it was the first day of Spring. We were pleased to see teals, mergansers, coots, buffleheads, mallards, wigeons, comorants, and great blue herons on the water, while Scott spotted a kingfisher quite high in a tree (avoiding the papparazzi?). Yellow-rumped warblers were just everywhere.

Clouds and trees reflected in the canal from the bridge

We heard but did not see a very vocal marsh wren by the bridge and saw and heard a few Bewick's wrens here and there. A bald eagle flew overhead as we were discussing whether the hawk in a tree was a Cooper's or sharp-shinned. (I always assume sharp-shinned.) So, all in all, a good day out, though I wouldn't have minded being spared the drenching. 

Whether it was yesterday's wet or the fact that today is cold and gray, we realized we didn't really desperately need anything at the Farmers Market so today is being a zero day. Part of the calculations about the market included a realization that stuff is blooming in the yard so I could supplement the remains of last week's tulips with some of our own Lenten roses, grape hyacinth, and camellias.  

The results of some back- and side-yard foraging

A lazy day, then, of reviewing yesterday's photos (and realizing I really need to have my camera cleaned) and reading Trollope.

This week's flower arrangements

Tapas Potatoes for St. Patrick's Day

 

Trust me, Imaginary Reader, it was lovely and delicious

Not every bike mileage update features a scenic photo of West Seattle views or thoughtfully arranged baked goods. No, sometimes the impetus for a ride is that we learn that Itto's business has picked up enough that they are no longer doing delivery only after we decide that we really don't want to make dinner and really do want some Itto's tapas. I placed the order and then Scott got the bikes out and we took the slightly scenic route to pick up dinner in the gloaming (which grew to full dark by the time we were home again). 

 But take-out food, particularly take-out that travels in Bessie's basket, does not stay particularly hot so there was no way I was going to delay things even further by taking photos of the lovely potatoes, beets, asparagus, dates, and so much goat cheese that I plated somewhat nicely. Which means empty take-out containers for tonight's photo shoot.

Scott is taking the week off to do some essential maintenance; I'm taking today and tomorrow. He has done some necessary painting and other odds and ends about the place; today I pruned roses and planted carrots. The BIG news hereabouts is that several of the tomato seeds have sprouted. We're chuffed, we are. It was nearly warm enough for outdoor cocktails today, and I did sit on the stump of the old cherry tree (cut down by Mr Oxman yesterday) to read a few pages of my current book. It's feeling very springlike, which is to say that both Scott and I are well aware that we are getting to be Quite Old People. Pruning and painting didn't used to hurt.

Pi Day Update

 

Friday was gobsmackingly gorgeous so we took a long lunch break to ride to Alki. These gulls thought we had fries (and maybe we did , but not for sharing)

 It feels like I should be able to write quite a bit as it's been a week with some fine rides; yesterday, for example, we went just shy of 26 miles about which Love to Ride tells me: 

But the ride was to Besalu (and back) and I don't know how cake slices equate to croissants, so it's not so helpful.

Although it happens to fall on Gradka's anniversary this year, DST was last night and that makes this my least favorite day of the year, the day the hour of sleep is stolen from us. I'm a bit tired, one way or another, so this is a brief mileage update featuring a handful of photos from recent rides. 

Mount Rainier from West Seattle a few days ago

There's a wall downtown with what turns out to be changing murals; last time we were by it was an American Indian woman encouraging voter turnout; now it's patient empowerment.

We were surprised to find that a million crocuses had been added to Dragonfly Park.

 

The impetus for yesterday's long ride (besides the lovely weather): baked goods and the Tom Hornbein Alpinist

  Beware the Ides of March; studies show that there are significantly more accidents on the Monday following the start of Daylight Saving Time than usual.  Bah, humbug I say.

 

Neither snow nor sleet nor . . . what the hell?

 

All our outerwear hung up to dry in the basement

 Today's ride was a measly two miles, round-trip, to and from the Farmers Market but I say the conditions make it worth a quick post.  We set out into a bit of wind, but it was otherwise pleasant enough. I'd been in the backyard earlier wearing a light sweater and that seemed quite comfortable. Fortunately, I put on my biking jacket anyway. By the time we were unlocking our bikes, post-shopping, it was starting to rain. It quickly turned to hail and then, shortly after we discovered our brakes weren't really working so well as we exited an alley, we realized there was snow mixed with the hail. The ride home took longer than usual (giving us that much longer in the cold, wet conditions) since we were both squeezing our brakes nearly as much as they could go; we really needed to control how much speed we picked up on the downhills. There was, thankfully, not much in the way of cross-traffic. It was a relief to get home.

And that's the 300-mile mark passed a week into March--wheeeee!

 

 

 

Marching forward

The bluest skies and finest views are in West Seattle

 The forecast for this weekend was classic Seattle: "showers in the morning, turning to rain in the afternoon," but it was, quite clearly, sunny as we were eating our toast this morning. Scott spotted me looking out the window with a speculative look and so asked me which bakery I was thinking about--or at least that's the way I remember it. I checked Seattle Weather Underground, which insisted that it was quite overcast and that it was only going to get wetter as the day progressed, and opted to go for Fresh Flours in West Seattle rather than the more distant Byen Bakeri or Besalu. (Yes, my decision was also influenced by which one was had the easiest pre-order system.)

 There was the briefest spot of light rain on the ride there and we were moved to pack ourselves up and leave our corner on the socially distanced Fresh Flours patio when it started to get too cold and spit a few drops on us, but overall, it was a dry and intermittently sunny outing; the photo above was taken on the ride home. I've lived in Seattle for something like forty years, off and on, but it's only in the last dozen years or so that I've discovered how many gorgeous views the city offers. West Seattle, I tell you, is the best.

Earlier on, I stopped to take the following pair of snaps, thinking they encapsulated the West Seattle, the day, or something:

I've seen little free libraries and little free pantries; this was the first puzzle exchange for me.

Scott would caption this one "cranky old man with bikes."

Some time after we got home, I at last got some tomato seeds into their starting mix soil, while Scott was taken with the light on Noel in the kitchen. (Noel normally lives outside, but the man who is to cut down our sickly cherry tree seemed to be frightened of him so Noel came into the house for a scrubbing and a break from the weather. We begin to wonder if the tree-man is ever coming back, however.)

Six each of five different varieties; that's not excessive, right?

Such a sweet fellow, our Noel. And his shadow.

And, as is traditional, the mileage thus far. I skipped a few days this last week and it shows:

97 lbs of CO2. 299 miles. So cuspy!