Slide shows

Yesterday an old friend posted a story on her blog, about going through her family's slides with her dad before he passed away. And it made me think about growing up with a father who also loved to record the life of his family in photographs.

He had a box of old cameras tucked away in a closet, but the one he always used was a 35mm Argus rangefinder camera, with its beautiful leather case. It's the camera he taught me to use, before I bought my first SLR in 1974, a Pentax Spotmatic F. I remembered how the Argus went everywhere with us, just as my own camera is never far from my hand. And the hundreds of family gatherings, Easter Sundays and Chrismas mornings, vacations on the Oregon Coast, Girl Scout events and our high school concerts... all carefully documented in film.

The day my dad came home with boxes of slides was always special, whether the pictures were from our most recent vacation, or an art show he attended, or his latest project as an architect. We always sat down as a family to watch them. My sisters and I would set up the screen, my dad would carefully put each slide into a new slide box, and Mom would make treats. We'd pick our favorite spot, get comfortable, and Dad would cycle the first slide into the projector. We'd talk and laugh and say "Remember..." or "Isn't that where you found..."  Having slides made each event something to be enjoyed over and over, year after year. 

When Dave and I got married, we were already avid photographers. We started out taking slides, and loved to sit down and relive our adventures. Just set up the projector and we were there. But gradually we changed to print film, and those packets of photos that were easier to share with friends and family. Today we've come full circle, thanks to digital cameras. Absolutely the best... "slide" shows anytime and pretty much anywhere, but we can print anything we want, too.

When my parents passed away, I became custodian of the family projector and library of slides. So many memories, locked in my attic. Every so often, I've gone upstairs to the attic playroom and pulled out a box, and looked at the slides through a small slide viewer (also my Dad's).

Now I think I may just go in search of that projector, and next time my sisters and I are together, we'll settle down in the living room, and go through our family history, one slide at a time.

TLC for wooden spoons

It's one of those things I don't think about often:  a little TLC for my wooden spoons. But today I was reading some of my favorite blogs, and came across a post about just that. Hmmm... wonder how mine look?

So I put my computer aside, and went out to check on the health of my own kitchen utensils. I dug in the drawers and raided my utensil crocks, and found quite a few. Wooden spoons in oak, bamboo, and mystery wood. A couple of spatulas with beautiful dark wood handles. Pastry brushes. A couple of wire mesh strainers. I also pulled out my big wood cutting board, and a small game board that I use when serving wine. I laid everything out on my kitchen work table, and gave them a careful look. Pretty much everything needed to be oiled, and the mystery wood spoons needed to be sanded.

You'll need a piece of extra-fine sandpaper, mineral oil, a small ramekin, and a roll of paper towels. First, I sanded the rough patches on my wooden spoons, then wiped them with a lightly oiled towel to remove any wood dust. Don't use a wet towel; you'll just raise the grain again.

Since I like to use my fingers to oil the wood, I pour a little oil into the ramekin. Then one at a time, I carefully rub oil into the wood. You don't want (or need) to use a lot of oil; just be sure you get all the dry places.

Set everything aside to dry for a few hours, then wipe each piece using a clean towel. I like to remove the excess oil with paper towels, then make a final pass using an old dish towel.

Here's my pile before, looking all dry and neglected:

And here are my spoons and cutting boards after their beauty treatment. Don't they look better?

March reads

I worked my way through a stack of fiction books this month, mostly from the Choice Reads wall at my local library. What a great way to explore books and authors, and maybe find a brand new favorite.

Here's what caught my interest in March.

Jack Nisbet | The Collector.  I spotted this book on a fellow blogger's post one day, and it looked interesting. It's actually pretty amazing. It's about David Douglas, a 19th century Scotsman and naturalist who explored the Northwest. Our iconic Douglas fir is named for him. It's a great read.

Chris Pavone | The Expats. I couldn't put this one down, which for me is unusual for a first book by a new author. The jacket calls this book "fiercely intelligent," and I completely agree. Smart, tightly plotted, suspenseful. A wonderful read.

Tess Gerritson | Ice Cold. She's long been a favorite author of mine, and I'm catching up with her latest books.

Archie Satterfield | Country Roads of Washington. After I brought it home I realized that the author changed the title when he updated the book, and since I'd read the original, this one went right back. You'll also find this book titled, "Backroads of Washington." If you'd like to explore the back roads of our beautiful state, you might enjoy this book.

John Shewey | On the Fly Guide to the Northwest. We're getting ready for fly fishing classes this spring! A very cool book on the best fly fishing waters in Washington and Oregon, and includes maps and lodging, as well as where to find the best fishing spots along the listed rivers and lakes.

Craig Romano | Day Hiking Olympic Peninsula. I may have to buy this little guide; great info on trails in an area that we love to explore. All of Dave's sibs like to fly fish, and brother Tom is plotting for a group fishing weekend sometime this summer.

Sadie Jones | The Uninvited Guests. A clever and fun novel set in 1912 England. A lot of my novels this month have been British period pieces... maybe because I'm watching Season 2 of Downton Abbey?

The Heddon Catalog. A collection of all the Heddon fishing equipment catalogs published since the company began in the early 1900s. I've been searching for an antique bamboo fly rod, and this has been a good resource for identifying the best rods to search for.

Tara Frey | Blogging for Bliss. An interesting book with some good tips for people who are just getting started designing a blog, with ideas about layout and fonts and handling photographs. It also includes about 50 blog sites by women who blog as a way to support their art & craft businesses. So it has a bit of a commercial slant, but interesting. When I finished the book, I went looking for the author's blog, and it's nowhere to be found. So sad that the woman who wrote a book about blogging, no longer writes a blog.

I wanted to pick flowers today...

 

... but it's raining.

I mean really raining. Rain that streams down the roof and overflows the gutters. Rain that turns the morning into twilight, because it blocks the daylight. The kind of rainfall everyone thinks we have all the time here, but in reality doesn't happen often.

Except in the spring, when gardeners want to get outside and get their hands dirty.


So this morning, I'm "gathering" flowers from my windows. Camellias from the dining room and bathroom, Japonica and rhododendrons from the front doorway, hellebores and daffodils from the kitchen.

It's tough to fill vases this way...  sigh.

On the other hand... the pasture trees are full of bright green leaves, the grass is emerald green, and the birds are chirping. And even if I can't be out there in the middle of things, my garden is loving all the attention from nature. So all is good.

Happy spring!

Theler barn swallows

I'm jumping the gun just a bit, changing my header photo to showcase one of my favorite birds. But I can't wait for the swallows to arrive at the farm. The violet-green swallows move in first, and take over the orchard nesting boxes. Then the barn swallows arrive, where they set up housekeeping in (appropriately) the barn. Or at least what passes for a barn here...  a huge old machinery shed where we keep the tractor, my stock of driftwood for walking sticks and other branches for rustic fences and furniture, our now-running 1977 GMC pickup, and where I once stored hay for the horses. The swallows usually build their nests on top of the light fixtures that hang from the roof, or on top of the long beam that holds up the front of the building.

Birds at the farm have no trouble finding nesting materials. They visit the farm next door for feathers from the chicken coop, and tail hair from the palomino gelding in the paddock... and there are plenty of twigs and dried grass in everyone's fencelines. The birds even bring peacock and other exotic feathers from the aviary that's near the creek. It's always fun to inspect the nests once the babies have flown away into the world, just to see what materials they chose. I used to save horse hair after grooming my mare, and when the swallows flew in and out of the barn, I could hold up a handful of hair and they'd snatch it out of my hand.

The barn swallows in this photo don't live near the pond at the farm. They were photographed at the Theler Wetlands in Belfair, a wonderful nature preserve at the tip of Hood Canal. We'd taken my sister and brother-in-law there for a long walk on a summer afternoon, and this pair of swallows charmed us by flying to the railing at one of the overlooks, and sticking around for a preening.

I'll post more on the wetlands soon. It's one of my favorite places.

The language of flowers... Primroses

If one flower rings the childhood bell for me, it's the primrose. They were always in my dad's flowerbeds when I was growing up. I'll never know if it was happenstance, or because he loved them. But they were always there.

It's become a tradition with me, to buy a new primrose plant at the end of winter each year, and I always choose purple with a yellow eye. Not because that's the color I remember from childhood, but because this is the one that survives, and thrives. I've tried white and yellow and pink, but they die out after a year.

As I clear weeds from the gardens this week, I'll be dividing the primroses and sharing them among the beds. And next winter, they'll be the first to bloom... as they do each year.

Purple always survives.

Long-ago rose

Today was a perfect spring day, and it's time to buckle down and weed the flower beds. Don't get me wrong, it's actually something I enjoy doing. Digging my hands in the warm ground, searching out every piece of weed and root, smoothing the soil, and spreading mulch. Weeding is automatic, which frees my mind to think about other things, like making vacation plans. When I worked for a living, I'd think about an upcoming project. A lot of my technical writing projects were scripted in my garden: figuring out what documents and manuals were needed, laying out the content, and deciding what languages to translate into.

These days my thoughts run to completely different things, like where I'll walk tomorrow, or what tote bag to make next, or how to texturize a photograph. (And truth be told, what to cook for dinner, and whether to change sheets today or tomorrow. Earth shaking decisions, to be sure.) It doesn't matter... whatever the project, it benefits from a little "garden thinking."

The border of hollyhocks got weeded today, all the way to the peony that anchors the corner. My black hollyhock is already 6 inches above ground; maybe this year (its third at the farm), it will actually bloom. I'm looking forward to seeing the color in person, not just on the plant stake.

Just as I reached the peony, my fingers found this tag from a long-ago Jackson Perkins rose, a Floribunda called Eureka. I remember the rose, and remember picking it out at the nursery a decade ago. Eureka was the AARS award winner in 2003, and I loved the color. But I don't remember planting it in this spot. I'm pretty sure it was at the other end of the border, 20 feet away. It amuses me to think of how the tag traveled all this way. Maybe a vole helped it along, pushing it through his tunnel. Or maybe I helped it along, moving it as part of a shovelful of dirt. I'll never know.

Tomorrow, I'll weed the other side of this "L" shaped border, from the forget-me-nots to the lilacs. It's my biggest border, with the most plants. This one will take a few days.

Nesting time

We spent the afternoon with friends who live on Benson Lake. After dinner, we sat on the deck and drank wine, and watched the lake quiet down as the evening breezes died. As we watched, a family of Canada geese floated by, heading to the north end of the lake. Two adults, the rest smaller...  maybe last year's brood? They'll be looking for a nesting spot soon.

Our own lake has a family of geese, too. Soon they'll be doing the same thing, cruising around, looking for the best spot to nest and lay their eggs. Watching the babies follow mom and dad, growing each day, then taking flight... it's one of the great pleasures of life on a lake.

The language of flowers... Camellia japonica

I read "The Language of Flowers" by Vanessa Diffenbaugh last summer, and loved it. And of course it got me thinking about the flowers that are in my own gardens. Most I chose for myself, but some were planted in the gardens of my old farmhouse many years before I came to live here. 

My favorite early spring bloomer is Camellia japonica. When I was growing up, our neighbors, Ralph and Alice, had an enormous camellia bush in their front yard, and the last time I drove past my childhood home, it was still thriving. So when we bought the farmhouse and took a tour of the yard and gardens, I was thrilled to find a camellia there.

My own camellia grows just outside the kitchen windows, giving me the best seat in the house as spring unfolds. The buds at the top of the bush open first, where they're in full sun. I watch the buds form, then swell, then the cerise starts to show at the tips. As the days warm up, the buds from top to bottom swell and open, and before long, whole shrub is in full bloom.

Every Northwest gardener should have one... it's a beautiful early spring delight.

Snow flowers

I love the unpredictability of spring...  the wild weather, every day something new, until spring finds its groove. Then the flowers stop holding their breath, relax, and spring bursts into bloom.

On the first day of spring, we had one of those days. The morning was beautiful, with bright sunshine and blue skies, and I walked around and took pictures. By noon it felt like winter... a cold day filled with high winds, torrential rain, and two hailstorms. We kept going to the front door, looking out on the weather, wondering what would come next.

The second day of spring, we woke up to snow on the ground. I knew it wouldn't last... it is after all, spring. So I grabbed my camera and went outside to photograph the signs of winter in spring. My poor flowers... they looked a bit shell-shocked at the change in weather!