Walkin' In The Rain - Tony and Mikaela

We've had just a misting of rain in the mornings. But, this doesn't deter our neighbors Tony and Mikaela from taking their daily stroll throughout the neighborhood. Tony says that Mikaela looks for our cats, Mordred and Pandora, on the front porch. I told Tony not to be concerned if she doesn't see the cats during the next few days, as we'll be on our camping trip. Mordred and Pandora will be locked up in the house with all the necessities, patiently awaiting our return. Sadly, they will view their admirers from afar.

Taraz Turns 26 on the Twenty-Sixth

As a kid, this was my favorite photo of our son Taraz. He was helping me pick peas from my garden, which we'd then shell over a big quilt I'd lay on the driveway near the house. My goodness, what a sweet little helper he was. And note, those three neon colored rabbits' feet he has dangling from his zipper (on one of my old jackets). I wish him oceans of happiness on his birthday!

Dilly Pockets and Whole Wheat Bread

It was about thirty-five years ago that I took an old unused sketchbook and started filling it with recipes acquired from all the pot-lucks and social gatherings I attended in Missoula, Montana. Pretty soon the book was filled with many savory recipes: Apricot Swizzle, Mossy Forest Salad (mung bean sprouts and fresh parsley), Eggs Benedict, Italian Minestrone Soup, Manicotti with Meatballs, Peach Marmalade, Old World Rye Bread, Spareribs and Sauerkraut... and a plethora of cakes, cookies and pies. Over the years the book has become so bespattered and torn, that pages now fall out. I keep the whole thing encased in a plastic bag with a zip-lock closure, and when it is time to bake, I pull several pages out, with the hope that the recipe I'm looking for is on top. Oftentimes, it is my home-made cinnamon rolls, but this weekend it was the recipe for Whole Wheat Bread.

I planned to make a simple vegetable soup, and have the bread ready by dinnertime, fresh out of the oven. The two would make a nice combination.

These loaves are raising in pans near the stove. My friend Carol Vaughn taught me how to make the bread, using molasses, honey and Stone Buhr whole wheat. At the time, about 35 years ago, we'd buy our whole wheat flour in 50 lb bags from a wholesale place. She'd take 25 lbs, and I'd take the rest. We also used large cans of yeast rather than the small individualized packages I purchase now. This is the finished soup and bread. I also made grape juice from the flat of Korean grapes that our friend Myong gave us last Sunday evening. We simply couldn't finish them, so I crushed them, cooked them, and put them through my food sieve. The most incredible, potent elixir was a result, so flavorful that only a few ounces are necessary, much like a shot of whiskey! I was able to make about 2 quarts, adding only a little sugar as sweetener.

On Sunday I made Dilly Pockets, an experiment. Ruhiyyih asked that I have some Dilly Bread ready for her when she arrives on Thursday from Washington D.C. to spend a few days visiting. I'm hoping to pack these Dilly Pockets for our camping trip. Using this old recipe, which has sauteed onion and garlic and a whole container of cottage cheese in the bread dough, I made little rounds that are rolled out with a rolling pin. A couple tablespoons of ground buffalo meat sauteed with onion and celery is placed on top and an upper crust is pressed around each pocket. (A dried packet of Savory Herb Marinade is mixed into the filling.) The pockets are brushed with egg before baking, which renders them a dark brown when baked. The finished pocket is crispy on the outside, flavorful on the inside, and is a substantial warm sandwich. I had some left-over Pea Salad (frozen, uncooked peas, onion, shredded cheddar cheese, mayo and a touch of relish) as an accompaniment. I wanted to include this strange image - the butter mixing with some of the molasses, honey and milk for the whole wheat bread.

It was a productive weekend. I've put a bit away in the freezer, to be pulled out when Ruhiyyih arrives. In fact, we will be packed for our camping trip when we pick her up at the airport, heading out from there.

There's A Change In The Air

Today at the Farmer's Market it was so cold that I could have worn mittens and a scarf as I browsed all the organic fruits and vegetables. I find most of the prices at the Market to be quite high - $1.50 for one peach! $3 for a big red tomato!

I settled for four medium size yellow zucchini for $2 and a big bouquet of fall dahlias and zinniahs for $7. (I've already cleared out most of my dahlias, to get a head start on fall cleanup.)

These prices really convince me to get back into gardening again. Grow my own like I did for so many years. I just picked 6 nice tomatoes off my one plant in our backyard, and about 20 more are ripening - if the blight doesn't hit them first. In this part of the country, where early cold temps and moisture prevail in September, often the blight will set upon the plants, and everything has to be picked green and stored indoors to ripen.

But, just thinking of all that work, and driving to a community garden plot, and hoping that people will not come by and steal our crop...it brings back a lot of memories. Perhaps in the end it is probably not cost-effective, but I think I'll try to do it again on a very small scale and see what happens. Community garden plots are only three blocks away at Franklin Park.

W've been helping Taraz and Megan move out of their apartment here in Tacoma. Packing and cleaning, feeling wistful that they'll be a little further away down in Olympia. Megan is pursuing her Masters at Evergreen State College. Taraz will continue commuting to his job here in Tacoma. As a commute goes it is only about a half hour or so, and I'll still see him every week.

The longest commute I ever had was a fifteen minute commute by bus. It took me eight minutes to walk to the bus stop, and once on I had only a brief chance to visit with 'the regulars' and the driver, who lived just a few houses down from us. I always enjoyed this commute.

I drove to work during my last job as a caregiver in assisted living, at 5:45 in the morning, and I was usually there in 10 minutes. No traffic, dark empty streets. My walking commute ten years earlier was 20 minutes to the nursing home where I worked. If I rode my bike, it was a 5 minute commute in summertime, and I'd be there in a flash. Of all the commutes I experienced, whether by bus, car, bicycle, or walking, I enjoyed the walks the most. Got to know so many neighborhood dogs, kids, and the yards were always changing due to the season. I loved smelling the autumn leaves and the fresh air of early spring.

We've seen a little color - deep red, on shrubs up in the North Cascades. It is getting cold up there. We have one last camping trip planned when our daughter Ruhiyyih comes home for a visit next Thursday. Just being out at the Farmer's Market this morning makes me realize that mornings will be a real challenge if it is really cold. I can just see me wearing gloves to boil water for coffee, and once the food is served on the plate it cools down real fast, within moments in the morning. Rue, Rahmat and Taraz would like to join us for this 'one-nighter'. Let's hope it won't rain. It will be our last camping trip until next spring.

Exploring the Okanogan and the North Cascades

It is this paddler's fondest dream to camp in remote places, awake at dawn, brew hot coffee, and drink it while gliding over still water - and that is just what we did most mornings on our camping trip last week.

We teamed up with our son Rue and his wife Annie, to explore the Okanogan country in northeastern Washington.

Our first destination was Leader Lake, where all of us camped together. After several days, Annie and Rue returned home, and George and I headed north, to explore the dramatic Northern Cascades Highway, one of the most scenic drives in the state. We made two more additional camps, at Blackpine Lake and Diablo Lake, enjoying hiking and canoeing experiences along the way.

We had an early morning glide on Blackpine Lake, a very pristine lake, with a beaver dam at one end. It was a little cold in the morning, and I was certainly glad to have my coffee along. During the days it may be in the 80's, but at night it was in the 50's.

Rocky outcroppings on Diablo Lake, lining much of the west shore. The water in Diablo Lake is some of the coldest in Washington, glacier-melt. The silt causes the lake to be a milky emerald green.

In every camp we pitched our tent so that we could maximize the view of the sky at night. Clear skies meant we could stargaze, and find the Milky Way. It was exquisite looking at these black pines through the window of the tent. As the stars twinkled it seemed like someone had come along and placed Christmas lights throughout the forest. At Leader Lake, I laid awake in the middle of the night listening to the coyotes howl answering each other.

As I've written before in other camping posts, our family really enjoys cooking outdoors, and this is no exception for our son Rue. The evening he arrived at Leader Lake, he prepared petite sirloin kebabs over a grill. Marinated and rolled in seasonings, they sent a mouthwatering aroma throughout the campground. The next afternoon he made buffalo burgers, and I added a few prepared salads as side dishes. These burgers really hit the spot after our morning hike near Starvation Mountain.

Rue chopped up fresh strawberries and peaches to pour over Annie's pancakes the following morning. These pancakes were almost the size of a small fry pan, and really hit the spot! Annie opened up a jar of my home-made plum syrup and I prepared eggs, sausage and hash browns as side-dishes.

I was so busy tending camp and cooking that I had George run the video camera, and I was not able to film much. (And many of our dinners were 'in the dark', evening, when filming impossible.) This was a lentil soup served with bagels and brown bean dip that I served at Blackpine Lake. I make five quarts of soup at a time, freeze it, and pack it frozen in our cooler. By the third day, it has thawed and is ready to reheat.

And this rice-garbanzo bean goulash accompanied fresh green beans from our garden. I season these beans with fresh lemon, pepper, and cumin, and cook them in just a tad bit of olive oil. The secret here is to simmer them briefly, then let them sit in the hot broth to deepen the flavor. (You save on propane, too.) Squeeze the lemon, and the fresh scent mingles with the fragrance of pine and cedar in the air. It is very refreshing.

I also made some little taste thrills - like zuchinni bread, corn muffins, and granola bars for our backpacks. These bars are made with bran cereal, peanuts, almonds, pecans, flax seed, yogurt, and sweetened with honey, brown sugar and topped with dark chocolate. The day before we left on vacation, I made more plum syrup (about 6 1/2 quarts), so I dried all the pulp from the plums and made fruit leather. It turned out so good (gobbled up), that I dried strips of my home-made applesauce, adding shredded zucchini and carrots. I find that chewing on a few of these really enhances the enjoyment of a hike, adding quick nourishment.

Annie and I hiked up to this rocky promontory on their last day of the trip while Rue and George did up dishes - (yes, everyone does kitchen duty.) It was incredibly dry and warm. After we finished our climb we walked throughout the entire eastern side of the campground(pictured here across the lake), where I showed Annie where I wish we could have camped had it not been so windy on the evening we first arrived. (Propane issues.) We hope to come back to the Okanogan again, perhaps in the spring when more of the family could join us.

I'll finish out this post with the only thing I brought home from our trip -- dried elk droppings I found on a hike near Starvation Mountain. As you know, most regulations prohibit disturbing the habitat, whether that means bringing home rocks or shells, moss or driftwood. When I saw these I told Rue that they make excellent incense, pungent with the juniper, cedar, or pine needles that the elk has eaten. I said I regretted not having a plastic bag. . . and he happened to have one! When I got home, I made a little alter, lit the scat, and savored the wonderful memories of our trip.

Blackberry Pickin's

While I was taking my morning walk, I saw these the other day, on a little-used gravely road. I've been taking a little zip-lock bag, and picking just a few every other day or so. My goodness, years ago we'd pick at least 3 gallons of blackberries at a time, and I'd make blackberry syrup and jam.

Our plum tree is ready to pick, so I'll be making syrup and jam this Labor Day weekend. I'm also planning to go through a few recipe books, too: "Trailside Cookbook - a Handbook for Hungry Campers and Hikers", and "Grilling From The Garden - Vegetarian Dishes for the Outdoor Cook". With George being a diabetic, so many of our meals have to be low-carb, low fat, and vegetarian. He also is wanting to loose a few more pounds, so I always try to have plenty of 'rabbit food' at the ready. (I do cheat a lot when we camp.)

George will be out at the Brighton Creek Conference Center at the Arts Festival for the next 3 days, playing music all day. We have no other plans for this busy weekend.

I hope everyone drives safely - have a happy weekend.

Sunset On Lyle Lake - Eastern Washington

Looks serene, doesn't it! But don't let this fool you - it had been a windy, hot day in the scorched, remote scablands of eastern Washington.

When George presented our options for the camping trip, he said, "Do you want 63 degrees with overcast sky, or 84 degrees with clouds?" I'd thought over the past few months, and could barely remember any truly hot days. I could just imagine September coming, regretting not having experienced a truly hot day. Even with clouds, the warmth would be so welcome!

I spent Friday organizing all our gear, packing, and preparing a few recipes to shorten 'cooking time' while in camp. I've learned that since conditions can be unpredictable, best to have a few things ready-to-eat. So, I put hot home-made lentel soup in a thermos, made some Indian fry-bread for our back-packs, and brewed a thermos of strong coffee. While driving, we polished off the soup and some celery sticks, with me hand-feeding George as we headed over Snowqualmie Pass to Ellensburg, then to Vantage, then across the majestic Columbia River.

I'll say right now that desert country is my favorite part of Washington state. I love the barren, dry, expansive vistas, the sagebrush and basalt cliffs that cradle the Columbia River, the absence of the press of humanity. I love to explore the Columbia Wildlife Reserve and the lands nearby that are state-managed and available for hunting, fishing and camping. The last time we were there, we noted a site that would make a good weekend get-away, and so we headed over - to Lyle Lake, a small sequence of open water, wetlands, and an outflow that looked navigable. We were ready to explore!

In the spring, Lyle Lake looked so different - you could actually smell the sage, and the sparse vegetation around the lake was so green. Birds abounded, and everything was bursting with color, sound, and life. But, eastern Washington is completely parched and colorless in late summer. Even the water in the lake seemed old and lifeless, with a mat of old scum floating on top at the edges. A brisk wind was causing the water to ripple in the deeper center of the lake, and we put off canoeing until the wind settled down - which was about 4:30.

In the meantime, we tackled the highlight of the trip - putting up the canopy, which at the time seemed like a good thing to do as it offered some shade. The wind was gusting from a variety of directions, first one way, then getting temperamental and changing course. George was having the darnedest time getting the braces to fit and the fabric positioned. No sooner would it be in place than the wind would blow everything to smithereenes, and he'd have to start over. (My, his vocabulary was 'rich' at this point.) I offered to help, and together we groaned and struggled. I questioned whether or not we should even camp here, because if it was going to be this windy, the tent would rattle and shake all night. He sputtered a few encouraging remarks while bracing the canopy with ropes staked into the ground: "No way will our tent blow over with both of us in it!" But, the canopy required extra ropes and rocks all around the edges, on top of the skirting at the bottom. As I hunted down big ones to lay all around the edges, George set out 6 gallons of water along the south edge. He said they'll hold it down and heat up water for bathing, pot-scrubbing, and cooking. He was right! By night-time, that water was hot enough for our baths. Lyle Lake never did simmer down. Wind was ripping up white caps, and it looked pretty bad - but we canoed it anyway, skirting the edges. Took all of 40 minutes to get around the lake, with a short stop to climb up onto these cliffs overlooking the valley.
We poked the canoe into this little chanel and found the outflow, which had the sweetest aquatic plants swaying in the current. The sun beat down, and the water was quite warm to the touch.
I made a quick meal of basmati rice with kidney beans, stir-fried some garlic, zucchini and red onions, and mixed that in. It took only a few minutes to prepare - the aroma of garlic and onions caught George's attention. He sat down, saying that watching me cook is always the highlight of the trip for him. He sat in the small line of shade inside the canopy and I offered him plain yogurt, with blackberries that I'd picked on my walk on Friday.

While George read maps inside the tent at night, I wandered along the edge of the lake to observe the meager 'wildlife' that inhabited the marsh and the cliffs. Permanent water sources like Lyle Lake are critical for the survival of desert wildlife. They provide breeding areas for frogs and toads, offer insects for birds, and provide drinking water for mammals and birds - of which we saw only one, a solitary white egret who chanced by our camp early the next morning. Other than a cricket in the outhouse, and a little mouse nest in the corner, we saw no evidence of snakes, bugs, raccoons, coyotes, or deer. It was like everything had run off, to seek some shade, some comfort elsewhere. Only a muskrat, swimming along the reeds provided my night-time entertainment. It made little murmuring sounds, which I recognized when I awakened in the middle of the night. The crickets sang all night to a full moon.

I made buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, and put the remainder of the blackberries on top. Then I fried up some sausage and eggs and some left-over vegetables. Made some hot coffee, and we were all set. It is cool in the desert in the morning, but as we ate breakfast the sun started warming everything up in a hurry.

We took an afternoon hike along the Crab Creek Trail, which leads up to the bluffs overlooking Frog Lake. This trail is quite easy, but with temps in the mid 80's we took it slow, climbing the cliffs that overlooked the remote scablands. Raptors, like the red-tailed hawk and kestrels use the ledges as nesting sites. We startled an owl, who slowly flapped away as we ascended the narrow trail. This is also habitat for rock wrens and cliff swallows in the springtime, when they are nesting.

Before we started out on the hike, I asked George if he was going to take along a water bottle, and he said "No, I don't want to carry one." He saw that it was just a little over a 2 hour hike, and regardless of the heat and clear sky he went ahead. I packed a full thermos of strong coffee with milk and sugar, and a full bottle of water, keeping the coffee in my backpack and holding the water-bottle as I walked. I usually save my water until we are 2/3 of the way done with a hike, to insure that I've got enough. Well, wouldn't you know, Mr. George got 15 minutes into the hike and polished off half of my water! Didn't even ask! (When I handed him the bottle so I could use my camera, he quietly unscrewed the lid and drank my water!) When he handed it back, half of it was gone - boy did I scold him. What was he going to do for the rest of a two hour hike? I put the bottle into my backpack, took out the heavy thermos, and insisted that he carry the pack the rest of the way! When we got to the top of the bluff, I shared a little of the coffee with him, but also insisted that he pack water on our next trip. He apologized, and I vowed I'd never step another foot on a trail with him, unless he's prepared. He looked a little sheepish, but agreed - everyone is responsible for their own safety (and hydration is a safety issue). When we got within a fourth of a mile of the car, I offered him more of my water, and he said "I'll wait until we get to the car. There's cold water in the cooler." So, I drank the rest. It was so hot I could have added a tea bag and brewed a cup of tea, right there.

Tacoma's Little Bungalows

When George and I bought our home near the University of Puget Sound, we favored the look of the bungalow, a cozy little house, with enough yard for a summer garden and within walking distance of my work. The location was perfect - a mile from work, three blocks from the bank, a grocery store and drug store, and two blocks from a garden center. We wanted something very small, for a retirement home. With our kids ready to head off on their own, we settled on a remodled bungalow, new on the inside yet keeping many of the features of the bungalow. (photo above is not our home...when I'm walking, it is 45 minutes away.)

Promotional literature in the early 20th century almost always noted the chief purpose of the bungalow was to place most of the living spaces on one floor. This simplified the building process. If bedrooms were upstairs, they were often very small, and could be used as small offices or guest rooms. Safety was at a premium because, in the event of fire, windows as well as doors offer easy escape.

Between 1890 and the mid-1900's, the bungalow became so popular that companies like Sears, Roebuck & Company and Montgomery Ward offered mail-order houses that were pre-cut in factories then shipped out for fabrication on site by local carpenters. These houses, some costing as little as $900.00, allowed families to own a portion of the American dream, their own little home.

You can recognize a bungalow by these features: One, or one and a half stories. Modest front porch. Focus on a garden or perennial beds. Exposed roof structure (beams and rafters). Low sloping roof, either gabled (front or side), or hipped, often with wide overhangs. Exterior proportions are balanced, rather than symmetrical in arrangement. Open, informal floor plan, often with a central hearth. Often built-in furniture, predominantly wood.

On many of the homes, I noticed that the front porch affords another room, albeit outdoors. It allows socializing, reading and relaxing. A bungalow's exterior might be brick, board and batten, cedar shingles, clapboard, stucco or stone depending on the owner/builder's preferences and the availability of materials.

There was never a strong vertical profile to the bungalow, no feeling of height. The focus was on a compact, utilitarian home, which was easy to manage.

I will finish this indulgent tour with this charming little front porch - I can just imagine how sweet this entrance looks with the porch light on at night.

Walking Through My Neighborhood

Every day I try to take a walk through the streets in my neighbor- hood. If the weather is nice, I'll take two walks, just to enjoy the solitary pleasure of browsing the area. After awhile, a pattern is established and followed for a few weeks, until I've become acquainted with all the little touches, motifs, that I find delightful.

Sometimes, it is a little porch along the side of the house, with a tender sweet welcome. If you drive by, you'll not notice it as it requires peeking over a small hedge.

Sometimes, it is a front entrance that looks so welcoming and comfy, a place that invites neighbors to stop and sit on the porch.

As I walk, I notice the yards, the gardens, the flowers, the overhanging tree limbs. The Puget Sound Area is in the last stages of 'summer bloom' now, yet I see crocosmia, dahlias, lavender, lilies, and an abundant variety of shrubs. It is still profoundly lush and green here, with temperatures in the low 70's during the day, and in the mid 50's at night - perfect sleeping weather.

It was many, many years ago that I studied American architecture, starting with the homes of the residents living in New England. Some of the architectural motifs of those old historic homes can still be found in homes here - the Palladian windows, quoins, dormer windows, elegant arches and columns, and beautiful moldings.

There is a classic simplicity to some of these homes, with a soft blending of landscape that enhances the integrity of the home.

As I walk in the summertime, usually early morning, I see people out gardening in their yards, hear children playing, and have an opportunity to greet other walkers, many of which are retired like myself, getting their morning exercise. People are walking their dogs, a roofing company is tearing off old roof shingles and putting up new ones. A street is being repaired, with orange cones blocking the entrance. The little bakery on 21st street has new loaves of bread sitting in the window. I'm pleased to see fresh paint, carefully tended yards, beautiful stone-work and bedding plants.

This route of mine winds all along the perimeter of the University of Puget Sound, down to north 30th street, where I have a pleasant view of the water of Puget Sound. On a sunny day, cool breezes seem to blow up from the water, adding a freshness to the trees lining the boulevards along Union Avenue. Dotted here and there along my route are a few little eateries, an interior decorating shop filled with decorating accents, like potted plants, lavender sprays, wall decorations and the like. But, it is always the houses that draw my attention. Someone, many years ago determined how the streets should be platted out, and my favorite street is 25th street, as it winds down around a little forested ravine, then empties into the cobble-stoned edges of Anderson Avenue. There, I notice the old steel rails of the trolley that ran through the old historic district of Tacoma.
This is the typical cedar shingle effect so popular in our part of the city.

My walk takes a little over an hour, and as the sun gets higher in the sky, I'm grateful for shade offered by overhanging tree-limbs. In fact, depending on the heat, I have routes that I take just to avoid getting too hot. I have my water-bottle along, and I make sure that it is freshly filled, whether I'm thirsty or not.

There is an extension on Anderson Avenue that winds around the ravine to show this grand old home. It has the most beautiful yard, within the fence and gate shown above. By peeking through a fence slot, I noticed beautiful flowers and a little fountain. The sound of water was delightful. I thought that it was a shame that most people don't even know about the beauty that is concealed within someone's back yard, as that is often an area that is carefully tended as a private retreat. Sometimes, it is the most beautiful spot on the property.

Houses have such strong presence, yet as I walk by the image is softened by a walkway of pale yellow pansys, a chance reflection in a little pool, or ornate glass in a window.

I listen to the rustle of leaves, breathe deeply the fresh morning air. As I round the corner home, I see the beginnings of crushed, dried leaves hunkered in the grass along the sidewalk. Weeds have all set seed and stand in a solitary stupor. The aphids line the stalks and undersides of nasturtiums. The end of the summer season is approaching.

I'd like to show you a few more of the bungalows on my walk, and present some of their distinguishing features. But, that will have to wait until tomorrow.