Wishing You A Happy Thanksgiving

What a flurry of activity surrounds this time of year! Ruhiyyih will be flying home for Thanksgiving, and I've been counting the days, baking, cooking, and getting the guest room ready. She will arrive Thanksgiving day, and my oldest daughter Laurel will pick her up at SeaTac airport.

The family will have a number of gatherings throughout the week to celebrate Ruhiyyih's arrival. We hope to get in some hiking, possibly some canoeing if the weather is good, and all the 'kids' plan to go out on the town together. Laurel, Ruhiyyih and I plan to bake cinnamon rolls at Laurel's home, and do a little shopping on Monday.

On Friday night George, Rahmat and I went to the One Heart Cafe where Taraz works. This little espresso shop had an evening of music and poetry. Taraz served tea to the guests, and people danced. The music pounded through the room, guests were hooting and clapping, and the rhythm carried all the way out into the street.

Ayesha, a very lovely and energetic hostess for the evening.

Before we left One Heart Cafe, Taraz and Rahmat enjoyed some videos on U Tube.

George and I attended a baby shower for our Baha'i friend, Bahereh, who expects her baby boy in two weeks. This will be her second child. The shower was in her home, hosted by our friends Lori and Christine, who presented the usual games, making the afternoon quite delightful.
Here, Bahereh's mother greets a guest.

These are some of Bahereh's Persian friends. They brought their children, and their husbands sat out in the livingroom, away from all the commotion. This was a most delightful occasion, with everyone squealing over baby garments, booties and blankets. I can't think of a more wonderful way to celebrate Thanksgiving than to look forward to the arrival of a new baby.

Ruhiyyih tagged me on one of her last posts, but I've just been too busy to pick up on that tag, which was to mention a few things about myself. She knows I have a hard time figuring out what to say when pinned down for details like that, as I can't imagine anything in particular what would be worth mentioning! She called and said, "Oh Mom! Just list a few!", even providing a list of things she particularly remembers. (The stuff kids remember, parents want to forget!) So, I'll just end this post with gratitudes, for family, for friends, and for art, music, good books, and the laughter and play that my grown children bring into our lives. They love to be together even as adults, and this is very rewarding to an old lady like myself, because someday I will be gone. Their endearing bonds of friendship will perpetuate the legacy of our family life.

We attended Tim and Debbie's Devotional meeting on Sunday, which is held once a month in their home. Here, Mauricio is singing a Baha'i prayer. November 12th is a Baha'i Holy Day, the Birth of Baha'u'llah.

Debbie prepared writings and prayers as part of the program, and Raul helped her with music selections.

Raul has the sweetest temperament, very quick to offer a grin.

This is Issac, oldest son of Tim and Debbie. I think I've known Issac since he was about four years old, and it seems just like yesterday that he was Raul's age. I cannot help but wonder where all that time has gone.

And, this is last photo is of George and Rahmat on one of the hikes we took this weekend, one at Woodland Park in Puyallup and the other in the Pack Forest near Mt. Rainier. I wasn't certain how long we'd be gone, or how cold it was going to be, so I packed hearty sandwiches (cheese and salmon, with broccoli coleslaw on whole wheat), a thermos of home-made minestrone soup, and lime yogurt. The minute George saw the sandwiches, he devoured his, before we even hit the trail. Rahmat and I waited, carrying them in our back-packs. This time of year I carry emergency supplies in every pack, so that if we get lost and have to separate, everyone has the essentials for survival - food, water, fire-starters, rope, first-aid kit, paper and pens, phones and ponchos.

I enjoyed the vines entangling this tree. What a strong, durable life-grip. Everything inching upward into any available light.

I haven't posted for awhile, as I've raided our public library. I've checked out so many books it took two trips out to the car to get them home. Of course, one, "The Treasures of Islamic Art in the Museums of Cairo" by Bernard O'Kane, seemed to weigh a ton. The photographs in this book are simply exquisite. Islamic art is foremost about the divine, and the form and rhythms of even the most utilitarian objects bear something of the essence of the Islamic faith: divine unity, balance, and peace.

"Once Upon a Country - A Palestinian Life" by Sari Nusseibeh is not only an autobiography but also the story of Nusseibeh's country, a work of depth, compassion and emotional power. Nusseibeh - now a university president - has family roots that can be traced back to the Middle Ages. His father has served as the governor of Jerusalem.

"The Mountains of Serbia" by Anne Kindersley (1976) offers glimpses into the lives of the Serbs and Albanians. This is a travel book, beginning with two short historical sketches which provide a background for the main narrative. The Serbian landscape has great Byzantine churches with old wall paintings which the author explains in detail. The author describes rich folktales, ancient chronicles and hymns, epic poems, and the daily simple life in the late 60's.

Another book I'm skimming is "Cathay - A journey in Search of Old China" by Fergus M. Bordewich (1991). He goes into the remote areas, through lost cities of the Taklamakan desert, through misty mountains, and along the gorges of the Yangzi. Pilgrims, hermits, Tibetan mountaineers, and Red Guards befriend him along the way.

Paradise and the Wonderland Trail on Mt Rainier

Well, if you can get past that explosion of ethnic hair on Rahmat, we'll meander into a few details of our weekend. (And, if you are still intrigued by the hair, I'll just add that George and I unwittingly present the catastrophe that happens when love knows no geographical boundaries. Offspring are beset with genetic data that dates back to pre-historic times. Asia and Africa and Europe all collide in Rahmat's hair.)

When Rahmat was walking with George along the trails up on Mt. Rainier, he seemed to come out of a time warp, shoulders hunched forward like a cave man. I thought he looked like the men in that movie "Quest For Fire". But, his gait was definitely post-modern. He sauntered up the trails at Paradise with an audio player in his pocket, earphones attached.

Snow blanketed the meadows, and fog and clouds drifted through the trees creating a chiarsocuro effect. This made everything look quite dark, as if it was very late in the day. It was really quite hushed and lovely.

While George and Rahmat walked up the trail I listened to the sounds of little streams, and watched water gurgle and drain under the ice on the trail. I lagged behind, taking my time, careful of my steps as the trails had some very slippery areas packed into hard ice by other hikers.

As we descended into lower alpine valleys, the last colors of fall covered the mountainsides. We noticed that two little foxes waited for hand-outs near the visitor center, and the ranger was cautioning everyone not to feed them. There is a $60.00 fine for feeding any animals in the park - even birds, chipmunks, and marmots. It interferes with their natural foraging instincts and causes them to become dependent on humans for their survival. This little fox came up to me as I squatted down to video-tape her, and that was not a good thing. She may not last through the winter.

Speaking of food, I only packed trail-mix and fruit leather for snacks, so before we did our two hikes up on Mt Rainier (Paradise and the Wonderland Trail at Longmire) we fueled up on Scaleburgers at Elbe, fifteen miles from the park. We've stopped here a number of times, and they make the best burgers and home-fries. We spent the afternoon exploring and 'power-walking' through the cedar forests at Paradise and on the Wonderland Trail. I call it that because it was all I could do to keep up with George and Rahmat on this last hike. They wanted a workout, whereas I had to stop and examine mushrooms and moss, and generally enjoy the peace and beauty of the ancient old forest.

We had dinner at the Copper Creek Inn just outside the park. As we drove by I noticed the lights coming from the window, and told George that it looked so welcoming and warm. So, we stopped. The interior is rustic, with broad wooden floors, wooden tables and chairs, all hand-made. A little gift shop was tucked in a front corner, and a bakery in the back. Homemade breads and huckleberry pies are for sale. As we sat down, I noticed that most of the customers were other hikers, dressed in warm vests and hiking boots. A couple of rangers were having dinner at a table nearby. The chatter was lively and good natured, creating the most congenial atmosphere.

The food here was exceptionally good and prepared to perfection. Homemade breads, fragrant salads, and prime rib that was an inch thick. I ordered lightly breaded halibut that was deep fried and lightly golden. The guys wanted prime rib. This was Rahmat's first experience with horseradish, and it was amusing to see him sample it, with no great appreciation. The little salad here came with the meal. When my halibut arrived, I entirely forgot about snapping a photo. All of us certainly enjoyed our hearty meal, bringing home three boxes of left-overs for the next day.

Last Of The Apples

I always experience a twinge of nostalgia when I put up my last jar of home- canned apple- sauce. It reminds me of the years - actually decades - of home-canning I used to do when my children were little. (Pictured above: Cranberry applesauce). I had four large garden plots with the Metropolitan Park District, and I grew many of our vegetables. These are the last of my tomatoes this year, brought in early to avoid getting damaged by frost.

Garden-grown vegetables just have a flavor and zest that cannot be found in produce picked and processed by giant food companies. When I had my garden, I picked corn, peas, beans, and tomatoes every day, and made the most wonderful salads. I even grew my own herbs, like cilantro, parsley, oregano and mint.

Some years, if I had the seeds, I experimented with buckwheat and millet, and grew my own clover and oats, which I fed to the birds. The back rows of my plots always had squash, sunflowers and climbing beans. The front rows had experimental things, like fava beans, gourds, or purple Peruvian potatoes. The other gardeners would watch to see how these things would grow.

As the carrots would mature, I'd can them in a Harvard sauce, and the same with the beets. Come winter these vegetables would add zest to our evening meals. We'd go berry picking, too, and I'd can at least 12 quarts of Blackberry jam, to go with peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. To this day, many of my kids still yearn for peanut-butter and jelly on a daily basis.

I've processed so much fruit - peaches, cherries, plums, apples and strawberries. Oftentime it was for a syrup or jam, but oftentimes it was whole fruit preserves from local orchards. One year I processed so many cherries from my parents trees, that it lasted us five years. But, everything eventually got used. This year I've only processed the plums from our tree, by making syrup and fruit leather from the skins and pulp. I was able to use everything.

When we found the old apple tree up the Duckabush River, we were determined to visit it every fall, to collect the little red apples. This year yielded a bushel, and after I made pies, applesauce bread, and applesauce, I used the 'reject apples' for fruit leather. It takes about 12 hours of drying in the oven at a low temperature, with a little fan attached to the side to circulate the air.

I have made so much fruit leather that I've lost track of my production amount. But, the little apples yielded six cookie sheets worth. These are my first two sheets. I finished the last batch yesterday. We took some of the fruit leather on our camping trip last weekend, and it was really a hit. It is nice to chew on while hiking.

Sir Arthur's Adventures At The Dosewallips

When our sons were growing up, they enjoyed reading the Arthurian Legends, imagining adventures in the deep woods. They rode their bikes down to a ravine near Old Town, lugging ropes and hand-made walking sticks. Sometimes they would remember to bring lunch, and on those fortuitous days, they'd spend all day living out their fantasies blazing trails through the forest.

Our son Taraz (Taraz'ullah Arthur) joined us on another camping trip this last weekend. (Yes, we thought camping was over for the season. But sunshine - and survivable temps of 34 degrees at night - were in our favor.) We picked him up at his home in Olympia, and drove over to the Dosewallips State Park, where we set up camp.

The Dosewallips River opens up into a fantastically rich delta, a habitat that supports abundant marine life. We hunkered down in the canoe and explored the delta for several hours. Our 'put-in point' was a little stream that empties into the Dosewallips, a meandering, enchanting little water course that offers protection to salmon when the weather and tides are rough. It was quite shallow, circuitous, and had luxurious trees covered with lichen and moss.

About midway a huge log blocked our route, and we had to portage the canoe across it. Fortunately, the shoreline along here offered a stable foothold, where disembarking was possible. We climbed onto the old log, and Sir Arthur and George pulled the canoe over. We were relieved that we could continue on downstream.

This photo shows the delta at high tide. This sand-spit has become an island. Later, the next day, we were able to walk to this area. Canoeing this area was delightful because we were able to watch hundreds of seals and sea lions basking on a nearby sand-spit. When they saw us approaching, they went crashing into the water, sending huge currents roiling under the surface of the water. To exit the channel, they swam right past us, startling about 60 mallards and shorebirds that flew up into the sky. It was spectacular. We finished our paddle late in the day, with just a few hours remaining until sunset.

I cooked hamburgers for dinner Saturday night - it was too dark to do any filming, even with the video camera. Most of the camp-tending was done in the dark. While George and Taraz chatted around the fire, I served a home-made fish chowder out of a thermos while the burgers were cooking. I've learned that it is necessary to have instantly available hot food right after a canoe paddle when the weather is brisk or cold. Otherwise, waiting for dinner to cook turns out to be an ordeal and it is consumed too quickly. Appetizers take the hard edge off hunger.

This was a portion of our lunch - roast turkey and broccoli slaw in a hogie bun, and a fresh fruit compote with lime-honey pudding I made the day before. I served a pea salad and a carrot raisen salad also.
This was a potato hash I served for breakfast - after brimming bowls of oatmeal. We'd roasted the potatoes and brats in the fire the night before, so I only had to chop the onion and green pepper. I fried up four eggs to go with this hash, so by the time breakfast was finished we were fueled up for some major hiking on Sunday.

The Dosewallips State Park offers numerous hiking trails of various lengths, all of them through majestic deep woods. As George and I led the way, our Sir Arthur looked for old deadwood ready to topple over. (I shan't say what our young adventurer did to those trees, but I'll say that they are no longer conspicuous eyesores aslant in the sunlight.) He found this old tree, with the roots exposed. We took several long hikes, one on Saturday and the other on Sunday. As we approached the trail-head, Taraz noticed this unusual tree. While George and I focused mainly on hiking the trail, Taraz was interactive, sliding downhill on slippery leaves, jumping over dead-fall. He was consumed with spontaneity, a levity of spirit that comes from exploring the forest.

The only Arthurian legend associated with the Dannells, is that we ended our exploring of water and forests by racing to beat the clock - that is, Sir Arthur's time-clock. He was due to be back to work around 4:00 on Sunday, so we ate left-overs in the car, fueling up with tomato soup in a thermos, sandwiches, and an espresso in Hoodsport. We stashed fruit-leather wrappers, espresso cups and sandwich bags under the seat of the car.

In his rush to get Taraz back to work, George had to settle for less than perfect packing. The down comforters and blankets were hastily placed in bags, without the air compressed out, and there was just a general hodge-podge of dirt-riddled containers and dirty laundry. Taraz traveled wedged among pots and pans, and griddles still dark with campfire soot.

Careening to a sudden stop in front of the 'One Heart Cafe', Sir Arthur opened the van's side-door. Our young hero, who had vanquished spirits of the forest, pried himself loose. An old hiking boot dropped out, followed by the lid of the crock pot. It rattled and hummed as it settled onto the pavement, as if offering applause. Reaching inside, Taraz pulled out his new walking stick, thanks to an industrious beaver. It was a huge water-logged thing, with tidal scum and fungal routes laced thither and yon. He raised it triumphantly, and headed into the 'One Heart Cafe'.

Of Whirlygigs, Windstorms, and Patterns of Life

For the past several days we've had a storm front move in, with strong winds and rain. I've been a little housebound, waiting for a dry-spell, so I can go for my walks. I've managed a couple almost every day, coming into the house a bit wind-blown and wet.

Weather changes are always so dramatic and can bring sudden dangers. I read in the paper today about a wind-surfer who lost his luck out in the storm - they found his body floating on top of the water. Another lady was stranded in her car because a power pole had crashed nearby. Tree limbs and shrubs were torn and battered.

I've been busy this afternoon, cooking for the Baha'i Holy Day, "Birth of the Bab". Our community is holding a potluck, and I experimented with a Quinoa Vegetable Pilaf and some apple pies - miniatures. I used some of the wild orchard apples we collected last weekend, and added ground flax seed to the crust to make it more wholesome. I took out my cookie cutter and cut circles of crust, and left-overs were used for a few cookies, which were dressed in a chocolate fudge frosting. (I 'm mesmerized with whirligigs twirling in peoples yards, with apples, chocolate, and the patterns to an acorn squash.) These pies remind me of the decorative lattice-work on the centerpiece on the dome of the Baha'i House of Worship in Wilmette, Illinois.

Once my pies were done, I got busy on the Quinoa Vegetable Pilaf. I adapted a recipe from "Gourmet Grains - Main Dishes Made of Nature", a book my daughter Laurel gave me about 10 years ago. The quinoa grain is an ancient grain originating in the Andes in Peru. It is very nutty and contains as much as 20 percent protein. It only takes 10 minutes to boil, preferably in broth.

While the quinoa was simmering, I stir-fried celery, onion, garlic, and carrots in butter and Worcester Sauce, adding a little salt and plum syrup. That done, I added more assorted veggies (cauliflower, cabbage, broccoli shreds), and beefed up the mix with some canned tomatoes and black beans. Parsley flakes and cumin add a nice aroma. A nice rich sauce develops, and I drained it, then boiled it down so that it becomes quite flavorful. Then I pour it into the quinoa to add flavor to the grain. Put in a glass serving dish, the long rectangle of colors and textures remind me of the patterns on a fine Persian carpet!

And, so, I've celebrated this Holy Day with color, texture, pattern - and flavors. Every day lately we've had a special occasion - the pattern of Baha'i life - a Devotional at the Olsen's, a Feast, a Fireside at the Nolan's in Gig Harbor, a Ruhi Class here with new friends. On Saturday we plan to attend the devotions at the Black Men's Gathering out at Brighton Creek, then attend a wedding in the afternoon.

I have a few photos that capture some of this last week's highlights:
Our friend Wynne, who has offered so much service to the Baha'i community is leaving in a few days, moving back to Hawaii, where she grew up. I will especially miss her. She was a dear friend as well as our Ruhi tutor for several years.
This is Carla Jo and Mauricio playing at the Nolan's fireside.
BJ is keeping an eye on her little friend Adeeb at Feast.
Bahereh is expecting a second child in December.

And, lastly....this was the zucchini-carrot cake and the gingerbread that I took to the Nolan's Fireside last Saturday. A smidgen remained, and we enjoyed it over the campfire last weekend, right before bedtime.

Up The Duckabush on the Hood Canal

As I indicated in my last post, we were planning to paddle up the Duckabush River on Saturday, to check out an old abandoned apple orchard. And, as you can see, we brought back the most beautiful red apples, perfect for applesauce!

George wasn't quite certain if the orchard was up the Duckabush or down it, outward into the Hood Canal and around the mudflats. But, I remembered the location, and we headed out, traversing very shallow water. Several times we had to get out of the canoe and walk in shallow water as the canoe was scraping bottom.

The low tide made it difficult to determine an entrance to the particular channel we needed, and so we just gave it a guess...and guessed wrong. We bogged down with no creek in site. I climbed up onto the dry grass bank and explored, looking for the channel while George stayed with the canoe and ate lunch. When I came back with good news - I'd found it - and I found him covered with mud! He'd tried pulling the canoe up onto dry land and got mired in the mud. His water-boots got stuck, and he toppled over! But, once we got the canoe up onto the grassy bank, he pulled it across the wetlands over to the right channel. We paddled up as far as low tide would allow, explored, and found our little tree. It took only a few minutes to pick our bushel.

One of the concerns we always have paddling in low water is the possibility of dogs running out at us, protecting their territory. We always try to paddle in deeper water to avoid a confrontation. Low tide and portaging always involve the possibility of this hazard. Wouldn't you know, we happened upon our first dog when loading up our canoe. He came around a corner in the brush, and waddled over to me. His owner said he was friendly, and we had a nice chat while George loaded up the canoe. This dog can only waddle, as his legs were crippled at birth, due to breeding practices that cause the dog to squat for shows. The genetics got mutated, and his legs turned out like a rabbit's.

When we were driving home along the Hood Canal, we drove through the Twanoh State Park and I mentioned how I'd love to camp there sometime. George said, "How about setting up camp Sunday afternoon after devotions? I could just drive to work the next morning (a half hour commute), and you could spend the day. I'll pick you up when I get off work." I was thrilled!

Twanoh State Park has the sweetest little campground, with a resident host and a park ranger. Since it is off-season, there were just several other campers. It was like having the entire place to ourselves. We set up the canopy over the picnic table, pitched our tent, and prepared a big fire. On Sunday we had warm temps and sunshine, but on Monday there was a forecast for light, intermittent rain. (This photo shows my fire on Monday morning - green wood makes a lot of smoke.)

I had only a few hours to plan this trip. I pulled out a salad, some homemade breads (zucchini-carrot, whole wheat, and molasses), and left-over home-made minestrone soup. George picked up some sweet-potatoes, bratwurst, and sirloin kebabs for barbecuing. I brushed on a honey-teriyaki marinade on the kebabs early in the morning, and added a little garlic. These take only about 20 minutes on the grill. I put a plum syrup glaze over the sweet-potatoes, and they took a little longer. Next time, I'll just roast them in the fire, along with the russet potatoes. We roasted the brats with skewers over the fire.

George left for work at 7:00 a.m. on Monday morning, and I made coffee, built a fire, and prepared breakfast. It was not easy to get the fire going because the wood we bought was still green, it was lightly raining, and I had no kindling left from the night before. So, I shaved the bark off some of the logs and fanned the small fire with a piece of cardboard. Suddenly the wood caught fire. I was careful to nurse it along as George did the night before.
This is a vegetable stir-fry, with left-over bratwurst, the grilled sweet-potatoes, a couple of fried eggs and a little banana and pear.
I made some peanut-butter toast for a mid-morning snack, slathered the works with a little plum syrup, then took an hour hike through the forest along a well-maintained trail. It is a simple loop, with several switchbacks, an upward climb with benches along the way. Rain fell lightly, and it was an incredibly peaceful forest experience...I learned later from the ranger that a bear was sighted earlier this summer near the trail, so I'm glad I sang out-loud the entire way! ("If You're Happy and You Know It....clap your hands, stomp your feet...")
This is the beach at Twanoh State Park. Other than one man smelt-dipping, it was deserted - just like the campground and the trails. I had the place to myself. I noticed about 20 different mushroom species, took some notes, and beach-combed, thoroughly enjoying my little pursuits.
The Civilian Conservation Corp built the park and its shelters in 1936.
This poor little shark was breakfast for the crows.

George drove into camp about 3:30, arriving about two hours earlier than I'd expected, and while he broke camp, I checked off my 'things to explore list', with one last visit to the ranger station to collect information about the Hood Canal, Twanoh State Park, and other recreational opportunities in the area. This is a prime shellfish collecting area. In the summer there are opportunities to see whales, porpoise, seals and sea lions. Before collecting anything, such as shellfish, it is important to check regulations and advisories, to determine if they are safe for consumption.

We got home at 6:15, I took a shower, and we picked up Rahmat for Feast. Today, I'm facing mounds of comforters that have to go into the dryer to ward off any mildew. The tent and canopy have to air dry out in the middle of the living room since it is raining, and I've got to wash and clean every container before they are stored in the garage for winter. Alas, my camping season has now officially ended, but this last trip was one of my favorites, especially memorable for the solitude and the gentle rain.