One More for the Road

We haven't had any rain for a long time (it spat a bit yesterday, a very very little bit for a very very short time), which means I'm doing a lot of watering. But -- I'm redoing beds, too, which is satisfying once done.

I salvaged lovely (expensive) flagstone from a neighbor's project, and got a marvelous price on shaped cobbles at the local recycled stone & glass yard. I now have a new bed by the walkway to the pond (the old one was just a sloppy mess of foam flower) and am 90% through with the new bed where the camillia sinensis didn't make it through the winter. When I'm finished with the latter, there will be a pond-viewing bench with flagstone to keep one's feet clean and tidy.

Oh, and I also finally cleaned out the oxalis by the water faucet and laid out some of the last pieces of salvage marble, which I got with Steve a few years back, under the faucet and hose hookups for a much neater look.

Otherwise, the chores are centered on the basement offices where the triaging of 28 years accumulation continues. Have found all sorts of amazing stuff from the mid-80s....

Ahhhhh. I just finished a half-cup (I'm being good) of excellent vanilla ice cream topped with freshly made, just barely chilled cherry preserves, made from the cherries we picked this morning from the tree in our backyard.  The tree is some old variety of pie cherry, not totally sour (especially if it remains/survives the birds on the tree long enough to turn cellophane red), that none of the farmers I've shown a leaf and fruit to have recognized.

Cherry preserves are a nice way to start the summer canning season. We picked 9.5 lbs of cherries, which cleaned up and was picked over to about 6 usable lbs. My recipe uses 4 lbs that cook down to 5 half-pints. Not a lot, not like the pounds and pounds of figs that we process in later summer, or the buckets of blackberries that spend an afternoon being turned into two or three batches of jam.
     I started cooking after NOVA, 9 pm, and was all cleaned up by 10:30 pm. Ninety minutes for the first canning batch is nice and easy anyway you look at it. Okay, I spent a bit of time in the afternoon preparing the cherries, but that was done after the picking this morning, house-cleaning, a visit from my brother, and a visit by a contractor to assess our basement problems and our need to replace our back doors. Oh, and time for dinner and for watching the news.

Now I think I'll go take my satisfied tummy and lay on the couch and read a trashy mystery.

Lots of gardening done, but it's been too damn hot and dry for late May/early June, so a lot of that gardening is watering, constantly. Still, Steve has really gotten far along putting in the walkway and ramp at Latona and all the plants that we can put in before the hot season (the normal hot season) are in. Now we get to keep up with the weeding, finish that walkway, and get some work done on the xeriscape in the driveway bed.

We took lots of pictures and I was all ready to start putting them on the website...then the router went south, and then the HP fried one last time. Fortunately, I had 73 more days on the warranty, and that warranty was with Costco, so the laptop will go back to HP for repair at no cost to me and damn little effort on my part. I went out and bought a Linksys Wireless-G router; it was amazingly easy to set up and we are back on line.

So I stayed up too late last night, working on the web site. We're changing ISPs next Tuesday, so I may just have a week more to finish it off.

We had suspected that something deep under our front yard was the reason we have lost three deciduous trees in very similar ways: a paulownia (Empress Tree), a flowering Japanese cherry, and red big leaf maple. All beautiful in spring or fall, all well-loved.

The losses puzzled more than one arborist and the lost of the red maple was particularly frustrating because it went down so fast.

Last week, our neighbors found out that their sewer line does not go the way they thought, but rather under our front yard, along the line of our three lost trees.  Friend Steve suggested that what might have not been a problem before (sewage plus soap), could have become a problem nowadays (sewage plus washing chemicals, bleaches, and who know what else?) for trees seeking water.

I talked with the latest arborist today and he reacted to the sewer news immediately, agreeing with Steve. We knew that the problem wasn't systemic, that it had to be some outside problem, and here a strongly possible solution has presented itself.

Our neighbors are seriously considering digging a new line straight out to the street. The arborist said to encourage them: losing a $9K tree is one thing, but the line goes under our prize small Japanese maple, which he priced at $30K. Of course, we value to the tree for its beauty -- and because it was my 40th birthday tree, a little thing that grew to a big shaggy beauty in summer and  a structural delight to the eyes in winter.

There's the outside chance that we'll have to move the little tree, if for no other reason than peace of mind. A lot will depend on what the neighbors do....

Three times in my life I've had an age epiphany: a sudden perception-shifting gut understanding of what age I was at that moment. Each time, the moment has been permanently backed up in my memories; I can recall my surroundings clearly and with sensory effects.

Had one such "ah ha" this morning.

The first time was in 1959. I was riding in the car with my dad, and as he talked about something that had happened a year ago, I sensed for the very first time just how long a year was. Until that moment, I lived in child time, without any real understanding of just how long days, months or years were. But, suddenly, sitting in the passenger seat that day, I knew the concept of "year." And, I knew that I was ten years old not just as a number, but as ten of those now tangible years.
     A disconnect came with this awareness, a severing of a sort between the ten-"year"-old me and all the years of me up till then. I could look back on those before years and know that they were behind me and that I was done with their needs. I was ten now and I was aware; I was someone different than who I was when that car ride started.

The second time was in 1974. Laying in bed, just waking up on my birthday and enjoying the late spring light and air, I felt that sudden awareness again. I was 25 that day and I felt, truly felt, my adulthood for the first time. Looking behind me, I saw my teen-aged self not as just the girl yesterday, but as someone more than a step behind. A younger adult, doing adult things for the first time, stood between that girl and me, laying there in bed. The younger adult was behind me, too; I was familiar with everyday adult thoughts and acts now, and if I were still young, I was not so innocent anymore. I laid in bed a while longer, examining these boundaries behind me, trying to skip back to my other selves, but they stood firm in who they were and not about to be dislodged. I got up from bed to get dressed for work as someone new, someone very aware that a quarter century had passed and just how long that was.

Today, I had parked the car in the small Seattle Center garage that is tucked away south of the Coliseum and was walking over to the Folklife Festival office for a day's volunteer work, when I suddenly found myself full of 60 years. It's actually about three days till I literally turn 60, but what's 75 hours at this point of life? I'm 60 and this morning all those years fell into place and occupied me. It felt good, too, satisfying, and not old, just -- appropriate. As during the other two times, the people I was, who are behind me now, have boundaries that don't tolerate fence-jumping. I am looking forward once again.

Looking back (I can still look back), I suspect that one reason I felt so out-of-sorts in my 40s is that there wasn't any experience of then/now during those years. I could tell myself how old I was, but I never really felt any boundary set between 39 and 40, or 49 and 50. The last few years have been particularly hard, feeling like there had to be a door here, somewhere, but not finding it and falling back, exhausted and not giving a damn.

But today is different.

(I've been busy in the garden [mine and at Latona] for the past two weeks, then busy on an intense project, so I'm really behind.)

Susan is putting on a 60th Birthday party for me this Saturday (yeah!) and I am contributing to the preparations by having the carpets professionally cleaned this morning.

The gent doing the job is here right now, sweeping with his powerful professional machine, before the actual cleaning. (Brings his own power supply, which is nice, considering the age of the house and the wiring.) He'll add some serious pet-protection application, but the bill will still come in at just under $200. It's an old local company, D.A. Burns, recommended by my carpet-laying brother, so we don't have to worry about fly-by-night operators, always a relief.

The lousy wet weather means that it will dry slower, though. I asked about turning up the heat, but he said that that would only work if I then opened the windows for the humidity to escape (sort of, considering the rain). Better to just put protectors down under the furniture that I replace and plan to work with Christa tomorrow morning to get everything else cleaned up and pretty. We should stick to bare feet or sippers/socks later till tomorrow. Oh, he'll do the foyer carpet too, just because.

The dogs, however, are not impressed at being stuck in the office with me. I've got three beds here, but they are crowding back around the computer with me: Sark nearest, then Tatra, then Cutter sitting alert, closest to the door.
 
Tomorrow, we go to Costco for edibles and I should be able to go right out into the back yard for flowers, assuming the lilac buds finally open by Saturday.

Two hours gardening at Latona. Two and a half hours at home. Half an hour walking the dogs. Five hours in the sun.

Finally.

I managed to get the bed at the top of the rockery cleared out at Latona and even a couple of the lower rocks reset. Tomorrow, I'll stop by the local good plant quality/great plant prices garden spot to pick up a new rosemary (lots of rosemarys big the dust this winter), and maybe some lavenders for along the rockery length to bring in bees. Then I'll get the rest of the rocks put in place,  sieve the rocks out of the dirt, and put in the blueberries, the sage and oregano, and whatever I have that will work there.

Then it's back home to work at the veggie garden bed.  I tore out the big (8x 1.5x2 ft) boxes that banked the old bed now under the oak and spent the last couple days sieving the dirt. Now I have some beautiful dirt to work into the veggie bed, some compost to mix in, and some general structural work to work on.
     The dirt's still too cold for serious summer vegetables, but I'll probably pick up some cooler plant starts lettuces and such, and set them out. The wild arugula come through the winter transpant okay, as did the salad burnett; I'll need some new sage though, and some calendula seeds. On Sunday, I'll hit the nursery for new New Zealand flax plants to accompany the Pacific hybrid trillium I bought at the garden talk last night.
      For the oak bed, I'll look for some sales on landscape border material. I've got a lot of woodruff to divide and set out in plugs for ground cover and by end of summer, we'll have a nice place for the dogs to play and to put the brazier for wienie and marshmallow roasting. Years ago, that area was veggies and flowers, but the oak is big and shady now, and, frankly, I won't miss the constant upkeep for that big a productive bed.

70 degrees on Sunday they tell us!!  Wow!!

Dinner was....wonderful.  Everything fell together perfectly, and without stress. And, it was a totally unexpected experience.

I stopped at the Broadway QFC to hit the BECU cash machine and strolled into the store for some yogurt.  Passing the meat counter, I saw two post-holiday turkeys, seasoned, dressed, and -- most important -- on sale. What the hell, I thought. I'm finally feeling better at the 3-week mark of this spring cold/asthma event; it's time for some real food. Tucked the 12 pounder into the basket; picked up some Yellow Finn potatoes, broccoli, some crimini mushrooms that were big enough to catch the skirts of the portobello title.

It wasn't necessarily a great afternoon for cooking.  I was struggling to reformat the C drive on my HP laptop in a last-ditch effort to squelch whatever it was that kept killing my screen after the Windows log-in. Then I was going through all the hoops and 75 updates (Windows)/25 updates (Norton)/new driver downloads (Intel) necessary to keep the newly regained screen lively. And, the sun came out. Very distracting.

However, somehow, someway, all the proportions turned out perfect, all the timing was spot on. This afternoon, I used just the right amount of preserved lemons and smoked salt with the mushrooms as they sauteed in butter and sherry. For once, I added just the right number of garlic cloves to the potatoes. The butter-to-flour proportions for the gravy were as they should be and needed no doctoring, just pan drippings and stock made from the neck and innards.

No credit for the turkey here; it came from the store looking simply beautiful and cooked up blushingly ready for a photoshoot. The broccoli, too, did what it had to do very well as it steamed in the microwave.

It was a spur-of-the-moment meal, thrown together while distracted and dearly dependent on whatever auto-pilot cooking habits I had picked up over the years. And it was one of the best turkey dinners I've ever cooked.

We sat down to eat at 5, as planned, and barely said a word other than "mygohd, this is good!" till the plates were clean. The bird was cooked to perfection.. The gravy came out as a person desperately wishes it will when company is over, rich and flavorful and daring you to ladle more and more onto the potatoes and meat.

No other reason for posting about it than wanting to remember this surprise on an otherwise ordinary Tuesday afternoon.

Sometimes the magic works when you least expect it.

Have I mentioned yet how much I dislike reading the news on line? Especially now that the printed Seattle PI is gone and I have to get my local news fix through a computer?

(Seattle PI online. Support it. No, I will never sub the Seattle Times. I can't stand their take on, and distortions of, local events.)

I've been sick the last couple weeks, since the 24th, actually, so I've had time to waste on working through the news online. Moving through all the clicks to find out if a story was worth the time the spare blubs promised. Back and forth clicking through the comics.  Scrolling the long lists of eye-blurring headlines.  Because I didn't feel good enough to move around, I was conveniently sitting in one place, able to do all that without temptations to get up and out ... and still it drove me nuts!

I am not happy. I'm feeling better now and I'm even less patient. A news section that took me a few minutes to scan and triage for deeper reading now online takes me 5 times as long to dissect. Comics pages that I finished lickety-split now demand back-and-forth clicking that is irritating even on a good DSL line. I can't ignore the stupid stuff that passes as news these days because it's all there on the web page, crowding out real news for my attention instead of being tucked into the Living or Sports sections that I could put aside or move Really Quickly through. That last sounds petty, but ambiance -- attitude,  respect -- is important. I'm reading for news, not gossip and don't want the web assuming that it knows my taste. Yes, I've personalized my page -- that doesn't take care of the problem.

And even when I want to read more deeply, I can't pull out a page section or three (discarding the rest) and make my way down the hall for a few moments of ... distracting reading.

This is convenient? Maybe people who don't read a lot, who don't know how to scan, who don't have better things to do than to be enslaved to a glowing screen....ahem, really getting off on a limb now. 

So no, I'm NOT reading the PI online as thoroughly as I did the printed paper. I AM missing stories that would have caught my eye (quickly) and at least registered as existing (quickly) and been convenient to go back to (quickly) while, say, warming up soup in the kitchen. I am not going to haul my laptop, not even my  mini, to the kitchen. Hot soup, tea, soda, and anything else spilled on a paper does not necessarily make the paper unreadable....and it only costs a buck to replace.

But, worst of all, I'm just not as informed as I used to be about local matters. I have gardening to do, projects to finish, all sorts of things that have nothing to do with computers and that won't get done if I'm spending all my time on the damn computer because something that took me at the most 30 minutes to do daily now takes much longer than that! And less successfully!

A person doesn't have to read deeply into every story, but a person needs to know that such stories exist if only to go back to them when further info is required. Scanning a list online is not the same as scanning a paper. I've worked on computers since the mid-80s and in a field where the words mattered, so I know that there are differences between print and online comprehension. I lived and worked with that challenge for over 20 years.

It's not the same.

And we'll be poorer for thinking that it is.

End of rant.

Damn!  Susan came home from her bi-weekly visit to her father in Bothell and before I could catch the dog, Tatra had run out the front door. She's discovered that little trick the last few days. It's generally just annoying but today...

Today she saw the rain dancing in the pond and made a right turn instead of a left to the driveway where Susan was unloading the car. Made a right turn down into the rock garden, then a sharp left....RIGHT INTO THE POND! A beautiful leap, perfect conformation, and she started happily swimming to the other side. I shrieked, ran down and called her name. She happily, obligingly, turned around and swam back to me.

I got plenty wet myself as I knelt down -- I'm sure I knelt, I must've knelt,  but I don't remember it at all -- and swooped her up.

It's cold out there -- 39 deg and they're predicting snow in the higher areas!

Well, I got her inside all right,  wrapped her in towels (which she thought were totally unnecessary), and got out the blow dryer. Amazingly enough, the water had not gotten anywhere near her skin. The Spitz undercoat had performed perfectly and within a few minutes, she was as dry as she might be a good half-hour after a bath. Now she's running around the house chasing the other dogs and getting chased in return.

Our old lady dog, Lis, loved the water, too, and had a pretty impermeable undercoat. She'd play in Lake Tapps all afternoon, give herself a good shake, and in a very short while be all ready to climb daintily into the car for the ride home. She was a "dirty champagne" color like Tatra and we're beginning to suspect that a lot of like temperament and other traits go along with that color in Pomeranians.

So we're all calm now; adrenalan has spiked and dumped. The dog is happy and the Moms are planning their next Very Intense Training sessions with the little monster.

The last paper Seattle Post-Intelligencer was delivered this morning.

As someone who was raised in a newspaper-reading family -- that's what you did at breakfast, read the paper -- I'm heartbroken to see Seattle reduced to a one-paper town.

I just called the Seattle Times, though, to make sure that our subscription (they were jointly printed/circulated) did not flip to the Times. That paper has disappointed me too much in the past with its presentation of city events. We'll get the Sunday paper long enough to see if the Sunday specials -- the comics, ads, magazine, overall info -- make the editorial attitude palatable for one-day delivery; but I'll cancel that too if I must. It's not a matter of conservative/liberal bias that bothers me; it's the attitude toward local coverage and events that I don't respect.

So, it'll be the New York Times for my daily newsprint fix.

I'm not a technophobe. I've been online since 1991 and have worked on computers since 1984. I have news websites bookmarked and I get news feeds.

But -- editorial overview doubts aside because that's a whole 'nother issue -- I want a printed newspaper. Printed pages can be folded, tucked in a bag, taken down the hall to the bathroom, clipped easily and used to wrap the soup strainings. Printed pages can be easily broken down by interest sections to casually read as I sprawl on the couch with three small dogs warming my lap and legs; printed pages can be tucked into my gardening apron and read when I take a break without worrying about my dirty hands or being dropped in the bucket.

I don't want to haul an electronic reader, no matter how small, on the bus with me and have to worry about losing it, dropping it, having it ripped off when I'm not looking. I could always spend another 50 cents or a buck for a new paper; a new kindle or whatever is a bit more expensive. 

Do I turn on my computer first thing in the morning? Yes. But I can scan the newspaper while I've got a spoon in my hands, a lot more comfortably than being tied to all the finger-work of a computer, even my nice, convenient new mini. Even more important, my newspaper scan exposes me to stories that I might not have read by choice -- important news that I should know even if I wouldn't normally look for it -- and I don't have to do anything more to access those stories than stop and read. Which I might not do if I had to take the time and attention to select and click to a story and then go back to where I was. Online news lets us slip by the inconvenient news story too easily, lets us ignore the Other Side too easily. Ah, but that's another whole 'other issue, too.

I liked the Seattle P-I. I read it for nearly 40 years and I preferred its style and its editorial approach to that of the Seattle Times. For newspapers and for the American civic process, this is a sad day; for this Seattleite, it's a heartbreaker.

Time to head over to the online Seattle PI. I'll do it, but it just won't be the same.

   at Lake Quinault yesterday morning!  I have the pix to prove it....as soon as I get a chance to download them from the camera. 

Which means, when I get the unpacking from our week at the lake finished and cleaned up. And the newspapers gone through. And the papers that the accountant asked for found.  We've picked up the last of the dogs from boarding (Sark and his vet adventures continue, but he's home OK and sitting on my lap now, surveying his kingdom and his two 4-footed bitches), and some fresh fruit, so we don't have to go anywhere else. I've gone through my main email account. I have to go cover some sprouting plants because it's gonna go down into the bloody 20s at night this week (boo, hiss), and then, to work on the clean up.

Back later with writers' retreat report and pictures.

A dry winter month, just turning wet this last week with a prediction of a late spatter of snow tomorrow.

This is the season's last gasp, because Seattle is definitely stretching into the first weeks of spring. Buds on the trees are fat; the crocuses have been up a couple weeks and other early flowers are blooming in neighborhood gardens. The daphne odora and the sarcococca ruscifolia (Sweet Box) on either side of the front entry have been incredibly fragrant all month. The dwarf quince bloomed this past week, the hellebores are proving that they survived the deep snows of December/January, and there just a general early perkiness to all the garden beds.

Steve and I did some work at the Latona garden, and I've filled a couple of yard waste bins with early clean-up chores. Bought some Primlets, which are smaller versions of primroses. The flowers are pretty and stand on upright stalks (for a primrose), with a more ruffled edge than the more familiar primroses. I bought blue and white, and they look very nice with the dark foliage on t he camilla sinensis (the tea plant) that I transplanted last fall.

I'll try to post some pictures later.

Oh my. I watched the 60 Minutes interview with the captain and crew of Flight 1549 and, not interested in the Cold Play segment, switched to AMC for the last 20 minutes of Apollo 13.

Big mistake. If a person wanted to stay dry-eyed.

I pretty much made it through the interviews, the crew describing how they did their jobs and the passengers and families meeting with them to say, thank you. But then Capt. Sully's wife read a letter from someone who's father, a Holocaust survivor, lived in one of the buildings into which the plane very likely would have crashed. She wrote that he quoted the Talmud, "To save one life is as if you have saved the world." and thanked the captain for all the future lives saved. The captain's eyes looked pretty damp, too.

Switching to watch the Apollo 13 capsule just about the reenter atmosphere and all the people waiting and watching... Well, I ended up reaching for the tissues.  The movie, too, focused on all the people of the NASA team that made the flight, and rescue, a success.

I've loved flying since my first prop ride in 1955, Cleveland to Fort Wayne, Indiana. I went up and down the aisles, entranced by all the pink cotton candy clouds (the stewardesses were very patient); and, no, I didn't need any gum at landing, especially since my mother didn't allow me to chew gum, even special gum, thank you.

And, of course, as a SF fan from the same age (Space Cat on Venus, my first library book),  I longed to travel to space, to look out a port hole and see Earth hanging in space, surrounded by stars. I loved Heinlein,'s "The Man Who Sold the Moon" because I figured that that was the only way I'd make it out there. And my mother certainly expected me to be the first woman on the moon.

Well, she was glad, in the end, that I at least ended up at Boeing. The first day I walked into the Graphics bay, the illustrator I was to sit next to was inking a large drawing of the IUS, the Boeing-built unit that would launch satellites from the the space shuttles to come. My lead had worked on the lunar lander and his name was engraved on one side of the unit still sitting on the lunar surface. In the next few years. I worked on art for all sorts of space proposals, including the Space Station and a project that speculated about commercial applications of space travel, such as selling funerals for people who wanted their last resting place to be the Sun.

 All in all, a very moving hour for a space geek.

We celebrated by heading down to Uwajimaya general store and stocking up on sushi, sashimi, mochi, and other goodies. Then, we came home and toasted the new year with a couple new sakes.

I'm an Ox Year person, born in 1949, same as the new President, born in 1961. He'll need all the down-to-earth, stubborn, determined bullishness he can muster to make it through the next 12 months!

Otherwise, I'm working in the downstairs office, shuffling through nearly 30 years of souvenirs; clippings, cards, and toys; many full bookcases; and all the other paperwork and stuff that accumulate after you move into Your House, which we did in 1982. We HAVE to triage more books. We do not have a large house. This task is Very Difficult. I don't buy books unless I really want and need them....and I KNOW I'll need them again within weeks after giving them away.

Also, I'm beginning to let go of the idea that I need to keep this'n that because i'll be doing this'n that. When I retired, I thought, "Oh! I'll be about to do X! and then I'll do Y! And maybe, I'll do Z!"  So, I need to keep all these office supplies, and all these computer programs, and all sorts of other....drawer fillers (material and electronic).  It's just a lot of dry leaves hanging on a tree that's put last summer behind it. If I have to go to work someday, none of that is going to be appropriate: either needs will have changed too much, or the job will be far too basic for such fancy foolishness. In the meantime, I'm gardening, readings, raising the young dog and taking care of the old dogs, and using the computer for fun and education based on what interests me, not some boss or some expectation that fizzled out long ago.

So, a new year and a cleaner, freer home office. Sounds good.

Well, the first tears came when, as the TV showed the motorcade leaving for the White House, the choir started singing "America the Beautiful."

Must keep the tissue box handy.

My thoughts went back immediately to when I was a girl in the 1950s, watching the news reports on all the terrible events that followed the school desegregation laws. My first memories of event coverage on TV are of a political convention, 1952; my second are of the uproar down south when so much changed. Fifty-five years of watching America struggle to come out from under the terrible consequences of its history of slavery and jim crow laws. I am so damn glad to be able to watch this inaugural crown all the efforts of all the people who, over all the years, have marched and fought and legislated and worked to make America more free.

(Took long enough to get this far.)

Good luck and godspeed to Barak Obama, Joe Biden, their families, and everyone in the new administration. You've got a tough job ahead of you.

1960 -- cracking the barrier against non-Protestant Christians with JFK.
2000 -- the first Jewish nominee
2008 -- the beginning of the first realistic consideration of a woman for the presidency.
2009 -- the inauguration of the first African-American president.
???? -- the first female president
???? -- the first nonChristian president

Look at all those people on the mall! In that weather!

Just about.

The first weekend finished with a dump of heavy, wet snow on top of the lingering remains from Christmas. Started at 5 and by 9 p.m., we had 3 inches on the back deck railings. i went out twice to shake the white stuff off the garden trees and shrubs that had suffered under the previous dump of white. Pretty, but it didn't last.  By morning, it was raining and melting.

And really raining and melting in the mountains. The air warmed up so fast that the snow pack was melting away in places, or sliding down the mountains, leaving bare ground behind. Horrible flooding; whole towns evacuated or isolated by impassible waters.

Seattle was in a rain shadow, so our problems were few, but step outside of town and the chance of getting caught between flooding roadways was high. Susan's sister nearly didn't make it home.

This week, we're anticipating very warm weather and a nasty winter inversion. I did some yard clean-up today, before the air turns back and forces me to stay at home. Cutter's asthma is acting up, so we'll lay about, resting the lungs, together.

It's not just the sweet stuff that doesn't live up to taste memories when a person is nearly 60 instead of nearly 8.

Now that there are delicious gluten-free pastas to be had (Tinkyada brand is amazing; the macaroni and various spaghetti hold up just like wheat pasta), I was determined to dig out the old family recipe for macaroni & cheese. I loved this stuff, a simple white sauce with regular old American cheese, and always made it so cheesy that it practically stuck to the roof of my mouth. The stuff freezes well, too, so when I was a starving 20-something, I could make a batch, eat a night's dinner's worth, then put the rest away for later when the budget really got tight..

Well, I can say that it still tastes good, but -- oh the richness is overwhelming now! And, I admit, my taste buds kept asking, where's the real cheese? I had my fill last night (didn't take much at all) and quickly froze small portions for later dinner accents. I may try M&C again, but maybe next time I'll try the recipes that put in a bit of a kick from spices or onions; and I'll go for actual chedder, or maybe a more exotic cheese.

And, next time, I think I'll stick with plain milk. It just could be that the whipping cream I used for part of the milk portion was a bit too much of a variation. Actually, it probably was. In fact, I'm fairly sure of it. Which is probably why I tucked the old family recipe back into my files instead of into a scrapbook.

This happened last Friday, but I didn't get the pix processed till a day ago.

Today, all the snow that's left are the compressed piles from last Friday's avalanches off our roof. It was quite an experience. We were sitting at the table, watching the Friday evening PBS news shows, when there was a sudden CRACK! and then a the proverbial freight train racing by overhead. My back was to the front room windows, but Susan could see the view turn white as the snow on the entire front side of the roof  slid off with a roar. We ran to the windows in time to see a few stray plops of snow land on the 2-1/2 high piles of compressed snow along our front house drip line.

Here are comparison pictures:

Before, from early in the stream of storms before there was nearly a foot of snow on the roof.	After, with Susan examining the aftermath.
My poor daphne shrub, tucked under the address numbers in by the front porch and by Susan's left elbow, was completely buried! I hurried set about digging it out before the snow turned to wet, cold concrete, but when that stuff falls and compacts, it sets up pretty quickly. Today, even a few lower branches refuse to come out from under the snow, while above, there are branches nearly ripped off that I am trying to save. I will be astounded, and happily grateful, if the bush still produces its wonderfuly fragrant January flowers. Later that night, the south side went, just missing my car; then the north side the next day, just missing the line of hydrangea bushes planted by our neighbors along their side path to their back yard. The east side took longer to slide, partly because it faces east, partly because there are vents low on that side of the roof, breaking the slide, and partly because there's a porch extension to cut the drama. We hurriedly put together a snow shelter for the heat pump, which sits under the middle span of the back roof. Not that it can't handle rain and snow, but we weren't interested in seeing how it did with compacted, too darn heavy, wet avalanche snow. And it worked (whew). When that side finally slid,  the snow fell on and was successfully diverted from the hard-working pump. It stayed relatively dry and we have stayed happily warm with a working heat source.

I couldn't resist comparing the pond after two days of snow.  We had a tiny bit of blue sky at midday and there's some small bit of melt. Tomorrow should be clear, but a new storm is predicted for Wednesday.

Saturday midnight	Monday morning