Thirty, count 'em Thirty

  

Feast your eyes on this glorious creation -  Al whipped up a bowl of borscht better than any we had in Poland.  Everything is enhanced with an egg or two.

 Helen and Gary came to visit and we took them on their first Walmart visit. 

 Can't get that in San Francisco. 

 The not-so-mighty Dungeness River. 

 I'll show it to you again in the spring when the snow melts in the mountains.  

 Thirty years ago we went to Golden Gate Park, Judge Dossee met us by the windmill, we said some stuff, slid rings on one another, went to lunch, then got on a 747 to Honolulu.  Upstairs in the fancy lounge.  Finally the "marry me, fly free" ploy worked.  Al thought he had done very well until he found out that more often than not we were left wistfully gazing out the window when a full airplane pulled away from the gate without us.  To celebrate we went to the Museum of Flight in Seattle to look at the first 747 to roll off the Boeing assembly line.   But this little airplane flirted with me on the way to the big one.

 You all know that I'm a sucker for a guy in a uniform.  Alas, this one has little interior substance.

 Go, Rosie, go!

I hope that she can always get him in First Class.

Foreign Travel

 Last week we traveled by ferry (after a pick-up at the airport) to Friday Harbor/San Juan Island to discover what we're lookin' at about 20 miles to the North, beyond the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Salish Sea.  There is an alpaca farm there so maybe if I get a much stronger telescope I'll be able to follow their rompings.  Maybe.

 This is looking South from the spot directly North of our house. 

 Maybe the fog gremlin can make it out but I can't.  Call Superman.

 Here comes the foreign part.  We took another ferry to Vancouver Island and visited the stunning Butchart Gardens, where everything is perfectly manicured (maybe not all of the visitors, but the plants are) and gorgeous.  The new goal is to return for Christmas and see how the elves decorate.

 It's good to dust off the passports once in a while.  

 Pat and Rhett are always fun and were our incentive for the journey.  

See you in September

 Never throw anything away.  This is what the selvedges from the edges of the fabric can become.  Look in the drawer for belt buckles that were leftover from some project years ago and there you have a pillow.  It was such an interesting project to sew all those little strips together and now I'm looking around for other places that just have to have something like it.

 The neighbor girls came over to make tic tac toe rocks. Self-contained it its own canvas bag.

  Clever, right?

 The whole time Al was deadheading his rosebush.

 And did such a good job that he got a piece of chocolate cake.  No, I didn't bake it.

 I would be way too impatient to fill all those layers.

But I did find time to make a pillow from ties that were no longer being used for neck adornment.  This was a wonderful batch from Uncle Robert so I went crazy deciding what went where.  I think it turned okay.  If the bright side gets too dizzying he can turn to the calmer side.  

Messin' around

 The delightful neighbor girls came over and we painted with shaving cream.  I can hardly wait to try it on fabric.  Really messy, but really fun.  See?

Another day we glued corks together to make trivets.

  It's a nasty job but somebody has to drink all that wine.

Al was kind enough to cut the wooden bases which got painted first.

 Did you ever see a guy more pleased about his giant zucchini?

As well he should be.  Hmmm.

We got wild and crazy to celebrate somebody's birthday with formal night and steaks on the barbie.  

Doncha love how well we clean up?

The Need to Weed

"What is a weed?  A plant whose virtues have never been discovered."
Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson

 He has been so very busy.  This is just some of the weed production since we returned home.  We can't burn these days, so maybe it will become a compost pile.  What is a weed except something you don't like or want where it's growing.  A rose by any other name?

 The fig tree is gorgeous.  If only the birds will leave it alone until the figs are ripe.

 This is what is left of the bucket garden after eleven weeks of neglect.  Next year.

 The ancient  lavender plant is now stripped bare and in the process of becoming wands and sachets. 

 The fragrance in the Patch is so strong that Al is certain it's making me pazza.  He stands outside my window, holds his nose, points at me, spins his fingers beside his ears, shakes his head and returns to hacking weeds out of the driveway with a thing that looks like a pick-ax.  Who is the crazy one?

Crabgrass can grow on bowling balls in airless rooms, and there is no known way to kill it that does not involve nuclear weapons.  ~Dave Barry

Home again, home again

 Eleven weeks, thirty-one states, five provinces, twenty-eight RV parks, two flights, one hotel, and 13,601 miles in Tom Dually, (10,060 miles towing Homer) we have returned home.  

To a jungle, including this lavender - it's all one plant!  It's now 25 years old and from the back is all woody and gnarly, but certainly impressive from the front.  Lavender all over town is gorgeous right now, with all the real horticulturists who trim it into the pretty round shape.  

 You do know that Sequim is the self-proclaimed Lavender Capital of North America.

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 The clematis arbor might be a little out of control.

 Same with the hardy kiwi.

 And Al's garden will take some work.

 Remember the blue star creeper I so painstakingly planted two years ago?  Except for all the dandelions that found their nasty way in there, it did quite well without any attention.

The hydrangeas didn't seem to miss us at all.
Isn't it curious that they grow about 25 feet away but have such different colors?
Welcome to garden chemistry.  

It's been a grand Alventure, but is nice to be home.  Meet me in the garden. 

So close

 Heading West from Salt Lake City Highway 80 goes right smack through the Bonneville Salt Flats.  It's impossible to describe and even kind of confusing to see.  It just doesn't seem right to have miles and miles of salt as far as the eye can see.  But there it is.

We happened upon real cowboys take a herd of cattle across the road.  I might be wrong but it appeared to be the grandpa, the dad, and the little kid ridin' and ropin'.  I love America!

Now we're in Bend for two nights, heading home tomorrow.  I hope we can remember the way.