Existential Easter

It occurs to me that if Christ is risen today, he will likely behave like the groundhog when it sees its own shadow and quickly trot back underground for at least another six weeks. There are times, many and ever increasing times, gentle readers of blahdeblahblah, that I find that despair seems like the only rational reaction to the world. The American presidential campaign is an ongoing source of horror with so many of my fellow Americans behaving despicably. Today, of course, there is the horrific slaughter of so many Pakistanis who just wanted to have a nice day in the park and instead they're blown up. It's so wrong. Just. So. Wrong. Were there a bright side, and there's not, there can't be, it would be at least on this particular day my government wasn't directly responsible. That's less than cold comfort. The sense that there is nothing I can do--that, it seems, anyone can do to stop the horror--is, as I hint, pretty close to overwhelming. And Scott tells me that the sort of scheme I propose, in which all the people who want to kill someone are sent to live with each other well separated from those who just want to live in peace, that sort of scheme so rarely turns out well. In fact, he asked if I hadn't read The Gulag Archipelago.

But, by gosh, I watched a lot of Shirley Temple movies in my youth and, by gum, I've got pluck. Rather than filling my pockets with stones and head to the Duwamish, I send money. And, between rain showers, I sit in the yard and look at the flowers and birds.

I spread out a load of warm sheets and towels fresh from the dryer for Gradka to snuggle into.

And, most of all, I make gingerbread. I pay absolutely no attention to those negative Nellies who warn against raw eggs, and I lick the spatula, and I ask myself why I don't make gingerbread more often. It's quick; it's easy; it's made with ingredients most of us in our comfortable middle-class American homes have on hand. Here's the recipe:

 In a large bowl, sift:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 t. baking soda
1/4 t. salt
1 1/2 t. cinnamon
1 1/2 t. ginger
1/2 t. cloves

Put into blender and blend until smooth:
2 eggs
1/2 c. molasses
1/2 c. sour milk*
1/2 c. shortening
1/2 c. white sugar

*You can sour milk by adding a spoon or so of vinegar or lemon juice to fresh milk

Pour the contents of the blender into the bowl with the sifted dry ingredients. Stir until smooth (a wire whisk works well). Shift contents of bowl into a greased 8-inch square pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 - 30 minutes, or until the center is solid and it looks like gingerbread.

Leavenworth: Part Two

People who blog regularly must have time machines I've decided. Or that device that Hermione gets in Prisoner of Azkaban that allows her to be in two places at once. Any time that I'm doing anything interesting enough to meet my admittedly low standards for a blog update, I'm too busy doing whatever it is to write about it. And when I do have time, it feels too distant or too dull or I'm just too lazy to want to write. I realize that plenty is written--and written well--not about doing things but about whatever the writer is thinking about. You know, inspirational, thinky blogs. At least I recognize that's a shot I don't have.

But on Monday I declared there would be a second Leavenworth report in which I'd reveal my new life bird and also make use of this photo which I found hysterical at the time:

Doing my stretch in Leavenworth

Get it? Doing my stretch in Leavenworth? Is there anything funnier than prison puns? Surely not. We did a fair bit of walking on the trip--along the Wenatchee River and then supposedly not far from the Columbia (at Wenatchee Confluence Park where high waters prevented us from reaching the part of the park from which, presumably, we'd actually see the Columbia again) and around in endless loops in town. Walking on flat terrain doesn't make me long for a good stretch the way a bike ride or hills might, but I'm not one to miss the opportunity for a good pun--or a nice stretch.

It was at Confluence Park that I saw the bird that is currently being seen here and there in Western Washington where it doesn't really belong at all, at last not this time of year: the Say's Phoebe. But it was new to me in Wenatchee and a pair of them posed nicely for me time and time again so I could get plenty of photos from which to make a positive identification. And it's a pretty little bird too.

Say's Phoebe on a lovely bit of barbed wire fencing

The Wenatchee Confluence Park (featured in Day Hiking Central Cascades and also what you find if you Google "birding" and "Leavenworth area") is a nice little park. There's a bike path that runs along and, I believe, beyond it which had us wondering if one could rent bikes in Wenatchee and/or just what sort of car we'd have to rent to transport our bikes across a pass or two. Without bikes, we walked. The weather was varied and it was early in the year, but we saw a great many birds, including a downy woodpecker, a passel of chickadees, a pair of yellow-rumped warblers, a red-tailed hawk, some wood ducks, quite a number of violet-green swallows (which I am now able to identify by their bowties, even if said ties are closer to their tails than their heads), and a mess of other birds that I'm not remembering just now (while I write sitting in the backyard, keeping an eye on Gradka, and so some distance from my birdlist). We saw signage about owls, and nestboxes for owls, and later I heard reports about a barn owl said to be in the park, but we saw no owls. Still, a lovely park of the Montlake Fill sort and well worth a ramble in whatever absurd costume one happens to have on hand.

High fashion in central Washington

Most of the clothes I'm wearing in the above photo went into the dirty clothes pile when we finally returned to the hotel because we stopped en route at Smallwood's Harvest which might be more appropriately called the Peshastin Petting Zoo. Oh, we bought a bag of pink lady apples which have been truly excellent, but I didn't insist upon making the left turn across US2 on the drive back to Leavenworth for apples. No, it was the goats. They have a surprisingly extensive collection of animals (goats, pigs, llamas, miniature donkeys and cows, rabbits, a peacock or two and a turkey, to name those I remember best) available for feeding and, coincidentally, they sell small bags of grain for a dollar. Scott did not care for the way the business turned the animals into beggers and I worried a little about their health during the high season but they all seemed to have a reasonable amount of room and to be spry enough so, well, I got my hands slobbered on and my clothes splashed with mud. Good times.

Goat habitrail at Smallwood's Harvest

But goats and cows aren't the only ones who have to eat and the next day, after the snow and slushy roads, we were pleased to see the sign for Rico's Pizza in Gold Bar. The pizza was surprisingly excellent.

The Three Pass Expedition

Leavenworth, Lit Up Like a Christmas Tree for Lent

Leavenworth, how is it that I've never walked your ah-maz-ing streets before? That is what I might have found myself asking this weekend, were I in the habit of addressing towns in such a manner. It was, truly, one of the finest minibreaks of my experience, although it turns out that Leavenworth is not the best destination for the Lentan vegetarian. (Travel tip: the sweet potato enchilada plate at South is excellent--and will leave you with lunch later as well.)

Scott's new hat with some Shakespearean additions

In short,  it was a fine time, if sadly bereft of owls and snowshoeing. We did some shopping (Scott bought yet another hat; that man is now obsessed),  and some walking by the river in all weathers, and some gawking at the stars (who knew they were so bright?). The Shakespeare Suite at the Innsbrucker Inn was considerably nicer than it appeared on the website although the kitchen facilities consisted of a refrigerator, a microwave, and a coffee maker. We bought an electric tea kettle in town, and improvised a shaker, having oddly opted not to pack one. In addition to being the Three Pass Expedition, this was also the "Mary Attempts Not to Overpack" Trip. You have no idea how pleased I was with myself when I found that I had worn absolutely every stitch of clothing I'd brought with me.

Atmospheric Wenatchee River in the gloaming

On arrival, it was a little rainy and definitely foggy. Saturday was overcast but not actively raining and, at the Wentachee Confluence State Park, we actually saw sunshine and blue sky for a bit -- until it started raining again. On Sunday, we woke to snow which only got heavier as the day progressed. Saturday night was the starry night and it was truly gobsmacking; we walked as far as we could on the dark dark dark island in the Leavenworth Waterfront Park, hoping not to surprise the bobcat or the bears that various signs warned about. It strikes me that I am a serious liability for my employers: it is inevitable that my lack of preparation and laissez-faire attitude about the outdoors is going to lead to an unpleasant--and unpleasantly graphic--demise one of these days.

The Minimalist Packer on a snowy hike on our last day

But that day was not yesterday--nor either of the previous days neither. No, we survived snow and rain and drunks wandering around the streets of Leavenworth: "Where's the car?" "Dude, they totally towed your car!" "Dang! Where's the bar we just came out of?" "Dude! your car is totally towed." We wondered at today's youth that becomes so incapacitated before ten on a Saturday night but then found that the two bars we meant to visit had both already closed for the night; maybe today's youth is just more familiar with Leavenworth's crazy-early-last call.

On the drive over we traveled across Snoqualmie and Blewett. Scott opted for Steven's Pass on the way home, theorizing that it would mean less time in the mountains where it was snowing, rather. It wasn't pretty though nothing like so bad as the rain and wind as we approached Kirkland/Bellevue. Now that was downright nasty.

Coming up: The NEW life bird and doing my stretch in Leavenworth

Masonic Lodge Now Open For Business!

Before the Fall

It has been a few hours since Scott said to me, "You'll have an extensive error report." During those few hours I've done some more work on the Grapevine Fence Gentrification Project (hereinafter GFGP), and I've raked up piles of fallen camellia blossoms and trimmed back the rhododendron that threatens to block off the front stairs, but it's not like I haven't all the while been mulling over the error report. Personally, I'm not sure it has to be that extensive, at least not yet. And it could be that the errors are really responsible for the experiment's conclusion, viz to wit: Install the new clotheslines before you mount the mason bee house on the clothesline support. This very helpful tip is not, I'm sorry to say, included in the forthcoming Mason Bee Revolution (MBR) an oversight I can explain only by saying that the book went to the printer some weeks ago.

 Last week about this time I ordered a modest quantity (20) of mason bee cocoons as well as some wooden trays that, placed together, make a dozen bee holes. (How the trays and holes work out is explained, quite adequately, in MBR.) The bees arrived in charmingly tiny box which truly was like an itsy bitsy treasure chest when I opened it; the little hives looked like jewels. I put them in the humidibee (part of last year's leafcutter package) which I put into the refrigerator behind the eggs. But, you know, it's a stressful thing having bee cocoons in the refrigerator. Did I add enough water to the padding? Too much? What if I keep them in there too long? And my apricot is blooming now.  As are plenty of other flowers which, surely, would provide adequate food supplies for a handful of bees. One way or another after a week of monitoring the temperature--and noticing that some other bees are buzzing about--I decided that the house could go out today. Then it poured down rain and it was cold and I decided it should wait. Then the sun came out and I decided it should go out. You get the picture.

Selection of tasty flowers now in bloom locally

 A few years ago, pre-MBR, we made a lovely bee house and bought some tubes for bees to nest in and put it out and absolutely nothing happened with it. It was disappointing, but we saved the house because, gosh darn it, it was pretty. Now I know that you're more likely to succeed if you actually buy some bee cocoons or at least put up some sort of bee-attracting pheromone sheet thing. This year, in short, I'm more optimistic. But then there's the error report.

 We (which means Scott) affixed the bee house to the east-facing side of the clothesline support (which I had noted gets morning light by about 10:00 a.m.). I then added a bed of broken-up dill stalks on which to rest the bee tray block and gently placed the bee cocoons atop the block, some ways back, before adding some more stalks and bits of stuff around the edges. It was quite lovely if I do say so myself. But why take my word for it? See the photographic evidence above. Sweet or what?

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I then remembered that I wanted to replace the ratty and mossy lengths of clothesline with the new line that's been sitting on the kitchen table for a few weeks now. It all went fine while Scott was cutting away the old line, but I grew impatient and decided I should try to free one section myself. Which resulted in enough disturbance to the support that all the contents of the beehouse, including the bee cocoons, came tumbling out. The trays themselves landed in the overgrown garden bed.

Second Installation. This time with magnolia backdrop

Eleven of the cocoons plummeted to the patio. The other nine are, well, someplace, I'm sure; maybe they'll even hatch and find the house. (Note: There are a lot of things that look like bee cocoons in one's garden bed. It's quite remarkable, really.) Regardless, the majority of the recovered cocoons were fortunately females, and none of them seemed damaged. We finished installing the new lines, and then Scott reassembled the beehouse interior construction, this time adding a string across the front to prevent the trays from sliding out next time there's a disturbance in the force. Fingers are now crossed for the mason bees to hatch, mate, and reproduce successfully, obligingly doing some pollination of the fruit trees in the process.

If you don't like the weather in Seattle . . .

On Golden Puget Sound

It was several years ago that a young man at the Sylvia Beach Hotel knowingly told some strangers at the shared breakfast table, "If you don't like the weather in Seattle, just wait ten minutes." He was young, of course, and maybe didn't realize that sometimes it seems like it does nothing but rain for weeks on end. Rain was predicted for this weekend which made yesterday's gorgeous, sunny imitation of Spring all the nicer, perhaps. I pruned the grapes while Scott did some much needed cutting back to the bush/shrub thing I can never remember the name of and also a couple of camellias. It feels late to be doing the camellias since they started blooming right around Christmas but, well, so it goes. It may have been a little late for the grape as well; I don't remember there being sap when I've pruned them in the past. Damned unpredictable climate change/weather patterns.

One of a pair of geese wandering about Lincoln Park

But all that work was done before noon in part because I had uncharacteristically leapt out of bed when I saw there was blue sky around 8:00 a.m. This meant that when we decided on an impromptu bike ride in the early afternoon, the laundry I'd hung out (in February! I love you, crazy early Spring-like day!) was pretty much dry and could be taken down because, of course, we didn't entirely trust the lovely weather to continue.
But it did! It was the first outing for my new Bandbox LLC bike helmet and I must say I do adore it.

 The bike ride was what seems to be becoming the usual just-over fourteen mile loop to Jack Block Park (no herons),

Many cormorants, both pelagic and double-crested, sitting on the docks of Elliott Bay

then onto Alki (no donuts),

Full house of surfbirds and turnstones. I think.

along to Constellation Park (no selkies) and then Beach Drive (same broken-up asphalt)

A watchful bald eagle looks out over the Sound

to Lincoln Park (harlequin ducks!)

Left holding the bikes at Lincoln Park

 across the park to Fauntleroy and onward to to the Junction (Bakery Nouveau) and home (whiskey sours and ibuprofen). While there were no herons to be seen and no pit stop at Top Pot, we saw a mass of surfbirds and turnstones, as well as a dock or two of cormorants, the aforementioned harlequin ducks, any number of grebes and goldeneyes, a couple of bald eagles, and oh! so much more I'm sure. It made for a swell Saturday afternoon.

Assorted Barrow's goldeneyes

Today, predictably, the rains returned though I see just now it's all blue sky again. Too late for a bike ride, but not for a little yard work.

In a shameful attempt to engage readers, three weiner dogs and a puppy

Valentine's Day Expedition Report

Being tormented by the sound but not sight of birds at Bloedel

After having planned to go to Nisqually for Valentine's Day, we changed our minds and opted for a ferry ride and a first visit to the Bloedel Reserve on Bainbridge instead. There were fewer birds than I might have liked but it was still a lovely spot, and I'm hoping we'll get back there again soon (because, yes, I figured I might as well commit to a year's membership). Happily, their website suggests that it's accessible by public transit so it shouldn't require a car for the day. I love a ferry ride, but not having to mess with getting a car would make it just that much sweeter an outing.

A ferry ride on an atmospheric night

 Fairly early in the walk we encountered a sweet little wren that I'm calling a marsh wren though I swear it was smaller and more orange than most marsh wrens I've seen. It was also some distance from any water though, it being western Washington in winter, everything was a bit wet. There are no photos; it was too flighty and, frankly, I didn't get any decent bird photos on the expedition.

The first pond features some ducks and their allies

The grounds were lovely, and the fleeting glimpses of birds were encouraging. Maybe on a less rushed, less crowded day we'd see more. That's my thinking, anyway. It seems ideal habitat for a northern saw-whet owl, though I have no real reason to believe there are any who live or visit there. We heard, but did not see, a ton of frogs. (In truth, my suspicious nature has me wondering if they have speakers broadcasting very loud frogs all around the place.)

The view from the tea house

 The ferry trip was a bit windy but quite photogenic, at least on the return. It's a lovely city in which we live, and I was particularly charmed by all the people lined up on the car deck, eager to take photos of the skyline. There were similar crowds on the decks above. I hope some of their photos were more in focus than mine turned out to be.

Something old

Something new

Something (hella)bor(rowed) from the backyard

 Assuredly, however, no one had a sweeter valentine.

Something blue

What you can do to help Malheur (and other refuges): A cut-and-paste post

SIX THINGS YOU CAN DO TO HELP MALHEUR REFUGE
Friends,
Thanks for your concern and support for our beloved Malheur!
With the armed hostage-taking of Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, our nation's wildlife refuges have been thrust into the spotlight. This illegal seizure has stripped us of our rights as American citizens to make memories at this wildlife refuge. Such threats to our federal lands need to stop. National wildlife refuges belong to ALL Americans and we want Malheur back. It's apparent that few are aware of the incredible benefits wildlife refuges provide to communities and the local economy.
For every $1 Congress appropriates to run the Refuge System, nearly $5 is returned to local economies in jobs, sales, income and tax revenue. And that's on average. In many areas, wildlife refuges provide an even greater boost to the economy. Malheur is one such economic engine, returning over $7 for every $1 appropriated by Congress. Ironically, in spite of their economic value, our refuges are tragically underfunded and understaffed because of actions by actions of our elected representatives.
National wildlife refuges are special places. These lands consist of the rivers where veterans fly fish to assist in the healing process from PTSD, marshes where a parent takes their child hunting for the first time, open grasslands that become a child's first memory of an outdoor classroom and the lands where ranchers teach their children about the history of responsible land stewardship.
This incident has tragically kept refuge employees from doing their jobs, done damage to refuge grounds and facilities, insulted and distressed the Wadatika Burns Paiute Tribe, caused much emotional stress in the local and national community, and threatened Malheur’s ability to meet the Fish and Wildlife Services mission for Refuges: “working with others to conserve, protect, and enhance fish and wildlife and their habitats for the continuing benefit of the American people.”
Because of this threat to Malheur, we have had many people wanting to help through donations and membership, as well as hundreds of people offering to volunteer to help get Malheur back to normal. Please stand with Friends of Malheur National Wildlife Refuge to show your solidarity with Malheur Refuge and the National Wildlife System.
Here are some options to show your support and help keep refuges free and healthy. Please consider as many as you are willing:
1. Join and or contribute to Friends of Malheur National Wildlife Refuge: http://malheurfriends.org/ Our members receive regular eNews updates about refuge events, news, and volunteer opportunities.
2. Join and or contribute to the National Wildlife Refuge Association the national nonprofit focused on promoting and protecting the National Wildlife Refuge System: http://refugeassociation.org
3. Join or contribute to your local Refuge Friends Groups, where they occur. The Refuge Association has links to Friends Affiliates at: http://refugeassociation.org/friends-commu…/friends-groups/… ; you can also contact your local refuge’s to ask how you can help. You can find your local refuges here:
http://www.fws.gov/refuges/refugeLocatormaps/index.html
4. Write your senators and congressmen and urge them to support increased funding and staffing for the National Wildlife Refuge System. Sign up with the National Wildlife Refuge Association for Action Alerts: http://refugeassociation.org/action. Ask your legislators at all levels to support keeping public lands public for all Americans to enjoy.
5. Volunteer: Check out malheurfriends.org page for scheduled volunteer work parties and other opportunities. If you can’t come to Malheur, please offer to help at a local refuge.
6. Take your family, your children and grandchildren, your friends and neighbors and their children, to a refuge so they can learn and enjoy the great outdoors. Work to get kids outdoors, out in nature, so they connect and learn to build a future generation of supporters of nature and wild places.
Thanks to all of you for your support of National Wildlife Refuges!
Gary Ivey, President
Friends of Malheur National Wildlife Refuge
www.malheurfriends.org