Just A Little Fire Around The Corner

The lady that lives in this house is going to have a big surprise when she comes home. She made the mistake of leaving a pot of 'something cooking' on the stove, when she ran outside to chase after her dog, which had run out of the yard and down the street. Somehow, while she was gone, the food burned down and caught the wall on fire, with spatters and splatters.

I heard the vibration of heavy fire trucks before I could see them. They arrived, one after the other, wonderously clean and sparkling, filled with incredibly handsome personnel (now, when have fire-fighters not fit that description) and in triage - a pastey-yellow ambulance, a magnificent-red firetruck, and a slick lime-green firetruck.

Pretty soon, most of the neighbors were speculating on the story, determining the causes and estimating damages, and staying out of the way....not me, of course. I had to check out those big trucks.

Lots of gears there, for turning, flipping, and switching. Dials to read. Pressure gauges with vibrating needles, knobs with jobs.

And long flat hoses, with violet, brown and tan designer-colors. And, the fire-fighters. They were so friendly, full of incredible smiles. I put my camera down, and watched their banter. I'll have to say that they do know they are always the stars of the show! (Ruhiyyih, calm down.....I didn't get any phone numbers.) Tacoma firefighters have designer workpants, with those multi-purpose pockets, sporty suspenders and neon red-orange reflective accent-stripes. Accessories also include durable steel-toe rubber boots, helmets with adjustible clear face shields, goggles, all-purpose Mechanix gloves, and all-weather, fire-retardant jackets. Many of these items became unnecessary, as if they had over-prepared and were ultra eager to dress to 'the nines'. Had to laugh....all these guys come from firehouse # 9, three blocks away. (They know how to dress in a hurry.) Although I can spoof a bit about this, turnout gear for firefighters is quite specific, according to strict regulations. On Firehouse Forums, a guest commenter said:

"I attended a class recently and saw many different options on protective clothing. Prior to that, our crew wore full turn out gear and just used the shields on our helmets for eye protection even though safety glasses were available. During the class two things happened that made my mind up about certain equipment options. The first happened to the other member of my department who was attending the class. While going through a equipment troubleshooting demo, a brand new supply hose burst while he was standing right next to it. It completely saturated his turn out gear and helmet, even the inside of the shield which was down. Luckily he has to wear glasses to see or it would have been in his eyes. The oil took the shine off his helmet and he has not been able to scrub it off.The second thing happened to me when we were cleaning up at the end of the class. Throughout the class, most partcipants either wore mechanics gloves or plain leather gloves. We have always worn firefighting gloves. During the cleanup, I had a door with a jaged edge on it, dropped on my hand. Had I not been wearing the firefighting glove, it would have cut my hand badly. Our crew will continue to wear full turnout gear and safety glasses are MANDATORY for everyone in the action circle no matter what their rank is on the department. The face sheild is definately not enough."

Meanwhile, about my neighbor, Beth - she had all the details about the fire, conjured by onlookers pushing babies in strollers, and others finishing burritos and tacos while standing on the bullevard, and she filled me in while holding back a cough. (Fighting a cold, she says.) She walked mincingly across the grass, tip-toeing, as if only once would she be able to disclose this secret. But, when she was flagged down by another inquisitive neighbor on the other side of her yard, she quickly regained her story-telling spirit. She said, "Our neighbor is not going to be a happy camper, seeing her stove parked in the front yard, and part of an inner wall charred up to the ceiling." Oddly, the owner's TV was still on, reporting the news, and the firefighters just kept it on, while attending to details.

The fire-fighters eventually placed a fan at the front door, to air the place out, and it appears that only minor damage was done. Thank goodness. Times like this, you think of your trusty one-burner propane camping stove, which will be great for morning coffee. I've got just the blend.....and this little espresso place is just around the corner.

And, should my rendering of this event not merit sufficient thrills, you can go here, to learn about 'rescue and training', extractions, roll-overs, roof extrication and rescue....these guys are tough. Interested in machinery? FES has just the 'rescues, tankers, pumpers and aerials', with custom silver-leaf lettering, that will make any firehouse proud.

Today was one of those gorgeous Indian Summer days, where one would like to be strolling along a country road, or curled up in the sunshine on the front porch with a good book - I've got one, "Logos and Civilization" by Nader Saiedi - and if my posts are light, it is because I'm soaking up the sunshine on the porch with this good book. One intriguing quote: "History, therefore, instead of being an obstacle to mystical experience, becomes the only way human beings can approach divine Reality. In this way history is spiritualized and spirit is historicized." It is a historicization of the spiritual journey, among other themes, and is 'quite academic', which, with the sunshine on the porch, tends to foster sleep. It was with the third or fourth nod, that I thought I had better arise and move, or the afternoon would be wasted. Tomatoes were ripe on the vine, and I headed in that direction.

After hand-picking about five pounds, I set to slicing, removing seeds, and blenderizing. This is a new approach to tomato sauce, as usually I make sauce and process it in Kerr jars, to store over winter. This time I just plan to freeze it, and I wanted the skins as part of the blend, along with sauteed onions, Italian seasonings, garlic and pepper. I brought it to a boil, then let it cool. Once that is done, I bagged it up in small sandwich bags, enough for a small serving at a time, meant to be added to Minestrone soup or Tomato-based Clam Chowder. This way, a more substantial base is part of the soup, and a richer flavor as well. It is a new system, for a small taste thrill and nutrients throughout the winter. I froze all the little bags, which are placed in a container in the corner of my freezer. When I make a small rice portion, a serving can go on top, or a small packet can go with a grilled cheese sandwich, for dipping. Either way, my afternoon was productive, and now I can resume my reading on the porch, looking like I've not done a thing all day.

The Many Faces of the Black River

Rivers have nuiances, just like people. Once you get familiar with a river like the Black River, with its many 'put in points', you develop a relationship with the parts that you like, visiting them over and over, getting reacquainted in all kinds of weather.

I remember when we first took my sister along on a paddle on the Black River, and she said, "What is the gravest danger associated with this paddle?" She is a climber in Glacier Park, Montana, and is attuned to the hazards of every climb, of every step and reach, of weather, thirst, and the needs of the other climbers. She is attuned to constant hazards, like grizzly bears, rocks falling, or starting late which can mean coming down off a mountain at dusk, and finding one's way to base camp in the dark, with the need of headlamps to light the way. So, her question came from her own experiences.

"About the only thing that can be unpredictable about this paddle this time of year," I said, "is hunters and dogs. Sometimes, a dog might hear a paddler, and if the water is low, he might come after us feeling mighty territorial. But, that's never happened yet. And, with hunting season about to open, we pay attention to bird blinds and stay out of hunting areas."

As the weather starts to change from summer to autumn, as it is now, our desire was to find a new part of the river we'd not yet explored. All year long the Black River is a canoer's delight, with wide open areas that offer vistas of farmland, sometimes blanketed in early morning fog. At other times, the river narrows, into delicate, shallow passages, with wild mint, crows-feet, and forget-me-nots. Blue heron stand like statues, on logs extending out over the water, and the birdcalls are heavenly.

The river gets its name from the tannins in the water, turning the water black. It can look very spooky in winter, when wind and rain make it look inhospitable. With its slow current, it is never a problem to paddle, unless one paddles upriver through narrow channels lined with abundant aquatic plants - and that is what we experienced on our paddle on Sunday. It requires both of us to pull the canoe through, upwards into more gentle water.

This is the type of vegetation that can make for difficult paddling. When we pulled out of these mats of vegetation, we had to glide under overhanging trees along the edges and lay our heads down as we paddled under them. Eventually we found deeper water and open areas, bordered by farmlands and an old railroad trellis. The little roads meandering through the valleys are quite idyllic.

It was a mid-day paddle, in brilliant sunshine, and mid-70 temperatures - simply gorgeous out. I filmed our coursing through the shallow channels with brisk current as we drifted down through it, as George didn't need my help paddling, and I look forward to the video. I was able to capture the delightful swaying aquatic plants on the riverbottom. Tiny brown rocks with small snails lined the bottom of the channel, and everything was pristine due to the current. It made for wonderful clarity. Still shots came out poor due to the light, but I'll include them here, anyway.

This was the 'put in point', and beyond is a channel of the river that when I saw it I told George we've got to get Megan and Taraz here. We're giving them an Adirondack canoe as a wedding gift. It will be similar to ours, for touring, yet will have enough stability for fishing, photography, and other pursuits. Its steadiness doesn't extract a toll in paddling performance or rough-water capability, and it is a durable, light-weight canoe, easy to portage.

We want to break them into some of the gentle spots on the river, where it is shallow and lovely. This spot is perfect, with safe conditions, and about an hour's journey from Tacoma.

Camping At Lake Wenatchee

Lake Wenatchee is located in the Lake Wenatchee Forest on the eastern slopes of the Cascades, about a 2 1/2 hour drive from Tacoma.

We met at Laurel and Mehran's, then headed out as a caravan, of 3 cars (ours, Mehran's, and my neice Mel and her daughters) and a mini-van (Oldeupher and Bubbie Dear). Rue, Annie, and Ruhiyyih joined us later in the day, after church.

Everything was packed for a 3 - day camping trip. We immediately set up camp, with 5 tents and a canopy over the picnic table. This time of year nobody was at this camp- ground, and we secured the best site with a gorgeous view of the mountains across the water.

Laurel and Mehran pumped up their kayaks, an inflatable type, and they were off in a flash. We all took turns using the canoe, paddling down to reeds at the far end of the lake, and over to the mouth of a small river that empties into the lake.

The first two days we had very calm water, due to light sprinkling rain and a heavy overcast sky. I put on all my rain gear, so stayed dry, but by evening of the second day, just about everyone had wet clothing they strung out to 'dry', if there is such a thing during intermittent rain.

Rue made kebabs the first night - chicken, beef, onion, and green pepper marinated in Teriyaki Sauce for a day. He set them inside a flat wire cage and grilled them over the campfire. I added chilli and macaroni salad. While Rue and I cooked, George made popcorn. We had a very starry night, and Oldeupher pointed out constellations in the sky. Daisy, our grand-daughter, and Mel's daughters got out the Hershey Bars, Marsh- mellows and Graham crackers for Smores.

We took a hike the next day, up to Hidden Lake, and it proved to be quite a learning experience.....Rahmat decided that he wanted to take an alternate trail back down to camp, and he got lost. He eventually headed straight down the mountain, bushwacking as he went, to arrive down at the lake. Once there, he waded out into the water, up to his knees, to walk along the shoreline to camp. He arrived back at camp about 40 minutes ahead of the rest of us. But, we thought he was going to join us, so we waited for him - cooling down as we stopped hiking. With the light rain, some of us were starting to get chilled, and we hadn't packed for an extended stay. We all consulted, and decided not to wait for him, but head back down, with the hope that he was at camp. This proved to be the case, but later that evening, around the fire, we all talked about the dangers of heading out alone, that it is better to stay together as a group.

The last morning of our trip, a rainbow broke out over the lake. I sat with my morning coffee on a big rock and enjoyed the view. We all decided that this campground would be a great place for a yearly family reunion - with the hope that Megan and Taraz will be with us next year.

Katherine and Kendra

Annie And Rue

Bonita and Bonnie (Bubbie Dear)

Megan and Taraz in the Garden

One cannot adequately write about their child's wedding. It is beautiful, beyond words. One is swept away in an ocean of joy and gratitude. Time seems to stand still, with the providence of each moment.

When we watch our child play at age 3, and they give sweet smiles, and tell us that they love us, we know that one day when they are older that devotion will turn - toward a beloved. We wonder who that person will be, and what the magic will be between them which creates a new essence, the marital relationship.

Megan and Taraz were married September 16th in Megan's grandparent's garden, adjacent to the home where she was born. Sunlight dappled on the grass, chicadees sang in the trees, and wind-chimes drew attention to the cool breeze of early autumn.

Bouquets of roses graced the walkways, patio, and inside the home - soft pinks, deep reds, apricot, yellow and the hybrids offering mixed shades. Heavy red-violet fucias graced doorways, white mums lined a walkway, and purple-green hydrangea bloomed seven feet into the air.

They sat in a little gazebo surrounded by family and friends. While music played in the background, Baha'i prayers and a Tablet on Marriage were read.

Yasu Nori Mitsuda's "Ocean Song", Cyril Morin-Kapha's "Water and Earth", and Deep Forest's "The First and Second Twilight" accompanied recitations and prayers. I offer this one for them, from the Baha'i writings:

"Make Thou this marriage to be as threading lights of Thine abounding grace, O my Lord, the All-Merciful, and luminous rays of Thy bestowals, O Thou the Beneficent, the Ever-Giving, that there may branch out from this great tree boughs that will grow green and flourishing through the gifts that rain down from Thy clouds of grace." (photo: Tim and Kathy Hall)

May Each One Become A Brilliant Light

Mehran and Laurel, Rue and Annie, Ruhiyyih, Rahmat, Taraz and Megan at the wedding. (photo: Kathy and Tim Hall)

In The Planning Stages

My husband has started a new blog about "Canoeing in the Pacific Northwest" which will use most of my photographs from our excursions. He has yet to write text, primarily for canoers, with information about 'put-in places', and the conditions one can expect. So often, when canoers start a paddle, they don't know about what to expect, or they waste time finding the best 'put in place'. His blog will help in that regard.

It is just a fun project for us, with my photography and his writing.....it is still in the pre-production mode, but will be more informative as he has time to round it out.

Nice Kitty

This is Pandora, one of our cats. She was very lazy on the weekend, sleeping out on the patio most of the time. I think this was the only time I saw her sit up.

But here's another kitty, and she's ready to play... I have no clue how they got this to work. There are some great code writers out there! If you tease her with the mouse pointer on her chest or stomach she will purr, I got her to meow also, by rubbing her forehead with the pointer. If you make a slow circle around her body, (counter-clockwise) not only will her head/eyes follow your pointer, but toward the top, her paw will go up, and when in front of her paws at the bottom, her foot comes out like she wants to play with your mouse pointer. (Don't hold the mouse down, just move it) Enjoy! (Thanks to Bubbie Dear for the link)

The Guys Take Over - I'm Pooped

I've done about ten trips, getting Rahmat moved out of his old apartment. He's got all of his stuff stored in the garage, and now he tells me that he can move into a house with four friends (one, from work), all of which are ..... g..i..r..l..s..!!

Now, it's not completely settled. 'Bout 99 percent certainty, he says. That means, if all goes well, he'll ask to use the van the rest of this week to move everything into a room he hopes to rent in a house.

I've got my fingers crossed....as much as I'd like him to get another place as soon as possible, I do wonder if the girls are ready for .... him. He may not do his dishes until everyone is dirty. Then he is motivated. I told him that he'd better rinse them off and store them in his room, cause women like a clean kitchen. I can remember when my kids took turns doing dishes, and when one of them would balk, I wouldn't scold him, I'd just rinse them (sometimes), and put them out in the garage. Soon, no dishes were available for a meal, and we'd all be sitting there, looking at food sitting in the kettle....they learned fast that Mom just lets consequences speak for themselves.

I was glad Taraz came over to take over where I've left off - I've handed over the keys to Rahmat, and I hope between the two of them, our garage will be empty by the weekend. Just to mow the lawn today, I had to move 4 huge speakers, two bikes, and half the camping gear. It seems like just as George gets it cleaned up and tidy, this type of cramming takes place, and nobody can reach anything.

Taraz gets married on the 16th, and I need to get this house ready for company. I've only got ten days to do about a year's worth of cleaning. Just thinking about it makes me feel tired.

Paddle on Mud Bay

This was a late afternoon paddle, with the sun low to the horizon. Mud Bay is not far from Tacoma, near Olympia, the state capitol. The tide was perfect - high - so we headed out.

I'll have very little to say about this paddle. Who ever named it, named it correctly, and we've tried to access it a number of times throughout the years, once successfully, with great images of a coyote running along the bank. But, mostly, it is mud, and with the tide changes, it looks like a great place to get stuck. We also tried it last winter, but the wind was so bad, I was worried about getting stuck out there, and capsized.

Not too many residences care to grace Mud Bay, for the obvious reasons, but this little dwelling has been there for a long time, and somebody had quit their projects, whatever they were. An old man was living here, working in his garden, and oyster shells lined the shore. I suspect he has spent his life in this location, but his fishing days are over.

The vegetation along the shorelines of Puget Sound have darkened into the most uninviting flat colors - dull greens and dull browns. When skimming along the tideflats, all the grass was matted down and much of the vegetation had mildew on it, from cold nights.

The water had whirls of mildew dust near any floating debris, and since the bay is right off a major road, the sound of semi-trucks and automobiles was considerable. I couldn't imagine anything tranquil about this paddle until we got about a half mile away from our 'put-in point', and regardless of George's positive commentary, I was eager to see the paddle come to an end. It did, right here....

Brighton Creek Arts Festival

George provided outdoor music for the Brighton Creek Art Festival at the Baha'i Conference Center over the Labor Day weekend. He has done this every year for about four years now, providing a backdrop of music outside. While people are visiting craft booths and participating in dance workshops or other activities, his music is in the background.

The Brighton Creek festival celebrates with drum circles, poetry readings, musical presentations in the main hall, story-telling, and Persian entertainment. Kids have a lot of fun here with workshops in a variety of projects, like beadmaking.

Brighton Creek runs through a mountainous area, out in the country, near the town of McKenna. It is about a 40 minute drive from Tacoma. I went over on Monday for the salmon bake, and when we drove into the con- ference center the aroma of the salmon had drifted through the forest into the trees. It was so rich, mixed with the sound of people laughing and talking.

Some years I've camped here with the family during the Labor Day weekend, attending the drum circles and storytelling in the evenings. It is the last weekend of the summer, when a lot of the Baha'is from surrounding communities like to get together. It builds a sense of extended family, and really feels like that. We look forward to seeing old friends.Everyone helps, caring for the children, getting acquainted over meals in the dining room and making new friends.

This is Nuri, an artist who has spent the last 20 years in the Caribbean. She had about 25 paintings laying on the grass along the walkway.

I photographed quite a few of her paintings, this one being my favorite. As you can see, she now focuses on Northwest Indians. She and I chatted for a long time, and she said she is interested in moving to Tacoma.

Vic builds his own drums. His ancestry is Blackfoot-Souix. He found this wooden stump floating in the Columbia River, fixed it up, got the buffalo hide, and stretched it to cover the top of the stump. He's got bands of fiber inside the drum that are attached to the hide, and he twists them to tighten up the hide covering. This makes a better sound.

This is Vic's friend Billy, a Blackfoot Indian. He says there are several different tribes of Blackfood, depending on where they originated from. Most are from Canada, and are made up of the Blood, the Piegan, and the Siksika Blackfeet. He said that the bands wintered separately, scattered, but when the summer came, they would hold a Sun Dance, much like our festival at Brighton Creek. They came together to consult about important affairs, which protected their lifestyle and spiritual ceremonies. I noticed this same quality during the day at Brighton Creek. People were sitting around visiting, sharing their stories, and, like these men, enjoying a board game. I was delighted to see the diversity - people of diverse backgrounds and heritage.

I enjoyed the salmon bake, it is always very flavorful, served with a tossed- green salad, broccoli, rice pilaf, macaroni salad, and this mouth-watering fry-bread, served hot with strawberry jam....this is my favorite.

Whoa - You Can Stop Right There

These apples had fallen off the tree onto my neighbors roof, and they got wedged between her house and the garage, which are a whisper apart.

Beth is my neighbor across the street. She lives alone in a big yellow house, and every fall she has to cut back her 'forest' - climbing Cecil Brunner roses, that threaten to blanket her house.

On Sunday I heard her with her power- edgers and the pruning sheers, getting an early morning start before it got too hot. But at 3:00 she was still lost in the forest, deciding what to do with everything. She was swamped. There was just too much to get done in one long weekend.

Beth asked me if I wanted some of the apples, and I thought 'applesauce' for cake, so she got an old rake, and scooted the apples down into a big bucket.

You can tell from her backyard that she's got a green thumb. Not only does she have a greenhouse, but seedlings were sprouting this late in the summer, like carrot seeds in a round old pot. I'd never seen that done before, and I thought that would be very refreshing in winter, for a windowsill. I told her I'd try it.

I told Beth that I'd spent Saturday canning some of my plums. I've got five and a half quarts of syrup - this goes great on buttermilk pancakes. No need for jam or jelly. I've still got peach, blackberry, crabapple, and marmalade left over from last year. We've been giving our plums away, and I've still got half a tree-full of fruit remaining.

This is the gizmo that I use to strain out the pulp and skin from berries and fruits. It leaves only the rich syrup, and the pulp is thrown away. After the plums are cooked, I put them in the top (white) part, and then grind them through. The pulp goes into one small container, like a measuring cup, and the juice drips out the front hole down into the pan. My dad bought me this about 20 years ago, when he saw me mashing the cooked fruit in a strainer, and he knew there was a simpler way.

These are Beth's apples...

My other neighbor, Paula, gave me these pears this morning. They need ripening, as they fell from the tree a little early. Paula is 92, and has canned these pears for about 50 years. Now, she is too old for processing them, and she lets them fall to the ground. Between Paula, Beth and I we have a lot of unused fruit. It may not look as perfect as store-bought, but it tastes great. I'll be taking most of it to Brighton Creek Baha'i Conference Center, where George is playing music for an arts festival. There will be a salmon bake, and many of our friends will be there....