News Trend Sunny Sanctuary|Actual

Seattle winters can be murder on houseplants.

Literally.

The combination of extreme low light coupled with tons of humidity - have you heard that it rains fairly often in Seattle? Mhmm - sets most green growing things up for a double whammy. The diminished sunshine sends the poor babies into hibernation, but the humid air keeps pumping water into their soil that simply cannot be put to good use.

And plants die.

It's a very sad scene.

Now I've suffered through this culling of the herd for many years now, and I've learned two tried-and-true tricks that have proven to save herbaceous lives:

1. Water only when the soil is bone dry.

2. Saturate the poor struggling babies in sunshine.

I'm very thankful that the back side of my house faces south and we get some really fantastic light, even through the heavy gloom of  so-called "marine layers" that blanket our skies all winter long.

And from its perch on the second floor, my bedroom catches more rays than any other room in the house.

So it has become a healing place for plants who are in trouble.

^ Air plants and succulents do not like winter at all. I've mourned the passing of so many of these little sun-loving darlings that I take no chances at all. From Halloween till Easter, my precious babies get prime real estate in front of my bedroom window, and I examine them every morning to be sure they have just enough but never too much water.

Nothing is too good for these tender beings. They reward my hard work with their adorableness.

^ This enthusiastic trailing plant needs a ton of sunshine and shockingly dry soil to keep its leaves from dying off in droves. Over the years, it's lived in various places around the house but the vines are now happy only when swooped across my bedroom window. I've done nothing particularly intentional to prop the vines; I pretty much just tuck them up over the curtain rod and they are content. New leaves unfurl daily.

How can I not love this one. She asks for so little and gives so much. .

^ Ten years ago, this wooden bowl from the thrift store served as home to four or five pathetically drooping and desperate succulents. After moving the poor collection of ne'er-do-wells from one place to another, I settled them here on a bamboo swing. And ever since...Well, the results speak for themselves. Pale green petals on long, elaborate stems, jade plants that curve and arch toward the ceiling, and burro's tail for days.

This class of happy campers survive on neglect and sunshine, and I couldn't be more proud.

A couple years ago, I took on this peperomia as a rescue from my fourth-born. Though her bedroom also gets amazing sun, she had housed it on the lower shelf of a bookcase and lost patience with its failure to thrive. After experimenting with several locations around my room, I discovered that my husband's nightstand is her favorite spot, and she has rewarded me (him?) with lots of new thick, glossy, and deeply colored leaves.

She wasn't a lazy plant. Just misunderstood. I'm glad she's feeling better.

^ Snake plants are known for their much-appreciated ability to prosper and grow even in shadowy corners. This specimen settled into our north-facing bedroom last year, and seemed to be doing fine. But this past weekend, when I plopped him into the bathtub for his monthly watering, I learned differently. At first glance, he looked healthy enough; I found a handful of new blades sprouting up among the oldsters. But to my dismay, I also noticed that a half dozen of the taller leaves had dried out, leaving brown paper-thin sections that ran down from the tips, sometimes just a few inches but in some horrifying cases, all the way to their base.

I quickly realized that this was a full-blown plant emergency.

Hayley, you know exactly how I feel.

^ So now my snake plant has been relocated here by my side of the bed where I can keep a close eye on the darling. He made need just a scooch more water than the one-monthly regime I had him on before, but I have full faith in the healing powers of my sunny sanctuary to restore him - and all my other winter-weakened plants - to full health.

News Trend Checking In From Coronavirus Central|Actual

In other news, spring is arriving right on schedule.

Greetings from U.S. Cororavirus Central.

My home state of Washington has catapulted itself onto the world stage this week with eleven deaths so far from the scourge of COVID-19 (as of March 6 at 11 a.M.). Nine of those connect to a nursing home in Kirkland, a Seattle suburb about twenty miles away from me. A tenth victim died in downtown Seattle; the eleventh here in my very own Snohomish County.

Put those numbers up against the entire country, where there's been only one other death, total.

So yeah. At the moment, Seattle is pretty much Ground Zero

We've all seen the shots of empty aisles in local stores where antibacterial hand gel and toilet paper are supposed to be - last weekend, people definitely went a little crazy on the stockpiling.

I heard Whole Foods ran out of rice and lentils.

Such a Seattle dilema.

But I'm happy to report that here in my little corner of the world, life rolls on more or less as usual.

Crowds at the gym, the library, the grocery store are more or less the same.

Some of my students were exposed not to coronavirus but to hand, foot, and mouth disease last weekend, so just to be on the safe side, I cancelled our regular classes and recorded instructional videos for my students instead. You can check them out on my Youtube channel if you're interested in multiplying with scientific notation or factoring trinomials.

Worship rolls on at my church, both on Sunday mornings and our Thursday evening Lenten services. Coronavirus has caused the regular coffee hours and soup suppers to be cancelled; eating together increaases risks of transmission, so that's a prudent move.

My husband reports that life is a bit quieter in his neighborhood at work since Amazon sent their employees off to work at home. But it's business as usual at his office, and while there may be a few more empty seats than usual on his commute, the buses are still running on normal schedules.

Gas stations are busy.

Target's still hopping.

Traffic still sucks.

Undoubtedly, life is continuing apace, with few visible upsets or cancellations.

Still, I'm left with the impression that we Seattlites are all paying attention, doing what we reasonably can to keep calm and carry on.

Which is just what we should be doing, here in coronavirus central.

Update: Later this same day, I stopped by the medical clinic for a routine appointment. Meeting me at the door was a staff person wearing a mask who asked me if I had come to be treated for a cough or a fever. "Nope, I'm good," I returned. She smiled and turned her question on the man who had walked in behind me. Forty-five minutes later, as I was walking out the door, she was still firing away.

Then I ran over to IKEA where the always-busy store was spilling over with plenty of customers, though it's hard to compare to what might have been happening on a non-pandemic day. As I sat in the pick-up area waiting for my wardrobe shelves to be pulled, I munched a frozen yogurt cone. After the last bite, I felt a tiny bit of the cone tickling my throat. I cleared it, once or twice, trying to project a non-coughing sound. More of a harrumph than a hack-hack. Didn't solve my persoalan but I dared not actually cough as that event now sets off a collective shudder through any group of people in public, and sends at least a few of them for the exits. I suffered in silence until my shelves were presented and loaded into my car. Then I climbed into the driver's seat, locked the door, and coughed to my heart's content.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend My New Elephant |Actual

I had just wrapped up yet another Algebra 2 lesson with one of my students and was walking with her to the front door when she suddenly stopped in the middle of my living room. Gesturing to her right, she said, "I just love this."

I looked where she pointed.

From the bottom up, I saw

• My childhood collection of what we always called "albums" but now sound way cooler as "vinyl"
• A low-budget turntable handed off to me by my oldest and a ten-year-old Bose player loaded up with my 2006 iPod.
• A Swedish ivy and a cactus who showed up for the bright patch of sunshine.
• And a large and small pair of bright yellow hex boxes circa 2012 from Hobby Lobby.

Over the years, I've changed the contents of those yellow shelves a hundred times, never quite satisfied, but I suddenly realized that that seemed to be the focus of my student's observation.

Oh, my elephants.

I do kind of have a thing for elephant figures. Some are collected, some gifted, they are sprinkled all around the house. But yes, a fair number of them have migrated here to the yellow cubbies and as my student pointed out, they have a certain charm.

^ Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. I was milling around the thrift store, shaking my brain loose from its usual patterns as only a mill around the thrift store can, when I saw this fellow.

A stone elephant.

I knew we were destined to be together.

^ So I brought him home and added him to the herd.

Or, I should say, her.

My elephants are mostly girls. I'm all about the matriarchs.

^ Here she stands, welcomed to the group by two ornate ladies that my mother-in-law brought home from India and kept in her own collection of miniatures for many years before they came to me.

See the gold wire wrapped around the newcomer's head? Attached to that is a tiny carved elephant that a freshman year dorm mate bought for me when I positively drooled over hers. The gold necklace and clasp on which it was originally hung have long since faded into history, but the tiny charm remains, and I treasure it beyond reason.

^ If I had taken these photos a week ago, the plant in this white elephant planter would have looked quite different, long green tendrils gracefully reaching up and trailing down.

Then we had a week of sunshine and the poor little plant died of either surprise or dehydration. Well, as you can see, she didn't completely die but lost over half her leaves to this freakishly unnatural phenomenon.

Sunshine in winter is quite a shock to all our systems.

The glass elephant at the planter's feet came to me seven years ago, a gift from my two younger daughters that they found on a visit to Dale Chihuly's Museum of Glass in Tacoma. I cherish the little rascal.

^ The lower, smaller shelf is home to a brass baby that I found several summers ago on a different trip to the thrift store. I immediately fell in love with her because she feels substantial and heavy in the hand, which is a pleasing feature for an elephant. But her right front and back legs are slightly shorter than her left, and I quickly discovered that this fatal flaw caused her to tip over. Unfailingly.

But I brought her home anyway and fixed her up with a tiny bit of that sticky putty business that normally affixes posters to dorm room walls. Fatal flaw no more.

^ And so it was that I stood in front of my elephants again today and fell in love all over again with each one of them, tucked into their cozy and freshly cleaned yellow home.

^ And you better believe that when my student comes back tomorrow, I'll be sure to introduce her to my new elephant.

News Trend Great State Burger |Actual

We were knee-deep into a Seattle shopping trip at University Village when we realized we were starving.

Three adult daughters with very different ideas about  what would make for a good lunch.

A wide variety of restaurants at the mall, all carrying premium price tags

And me working a new eating plan requiring protein, protein, and more protein.

As we lounged on the couches in the Anthropologie furniture display, I flipped open my Google app, and took a deep breath, knowing that this was going to be a project.

And then, straight from heaven, the perfect inspiration fell onto my comfortably seated lap.

Great State Burger.

Fun but not fancy.

Just a few blocks away.

Favorited by all my offspring.

And well within my eating plan parameters.

Besides putting out a delicious menu of cheeseburger basics, Great State emphasizes natural food from local sources. The beef is grass-fed, the milkshakes  have real strawberries, the packaging is all compostable or recyclable: this is the kind of  business that I really like to support.

So off we sailed, and soon we were seated in quirky schoolroom-style wooden chairs with turquoise accents, our heart-eyes beaming at the tray full of beautiful food. In silence, we devoured every morsel and then sat back and smiled at each other in delicious satisfaction.

Great State Burger was a perfect choice for lunch.

News Trend Teaching My Own: How Heidi And I Solved A Monumental Problem|Actual

Sitting around a back table in our deserted portable classroom, easily an hour after we were due to go home, Heidi and I kept searching for an answer that was not coming easily.

How, we asked ourselves over and over again, can we motivate our high school students to get their work done?

As homeschooling moms and teachers, Heidi and I were already enjoying the luxuries of small group size, students who enjoyed each others' company, and a curriculum tailor-made to suit their interests and study styles.

We'd all known each other, in and out of the classroom, for years. Heck, most of these kids we'd known since they were in diapers.

Or at least light-up sneakers.

But still, there was one particular boy, cheerful and agreeable as the day is long, who just wouldn't push the button on his homework. And before his malaise spread to the rest of the class like the dreaded Spanish flu, Heidi and I were bound and determined to get him in gear.

We spit-balled endlessly, brainstorming all manner of crazy ideas, from making him stay after class to do his homework under our noses, to paying him for complete assignments, to threatening to kick him out of class. But we knew nothing like that would work. We wanted a solution that would:

motivate rather than shame him,

come from his own internal desires,

use the exponential power of peer pressure from his classmates,

come without any nagging or penalties from us.

And in the end, that's just what we found.

Heidi designed the chart and did the beautiful lettering, I did the painting.

As always, we made a perfect team.

This creation began as a simple chart. Along the left side were the students' names, arranged alphabetically.

Along the tops of the columns, a list of upcoming weeks numbered, "one," "two," "three," and so on.

Each of the squares on the resulting graph was a blank square of white.

Separately, a painting was created to fit exactly into those open spaces. It was painted as a whole, and when it was dry, sliced up into perfect squares to fit into the blank boxes.

The painted tiles of the artwork were numbered for the corresponding week, and tucked into envelopes bearing the appropriate student's name.

Then we waited for the first week's assignment to come due.

As each diligent student presented their work in group, they were awarded their tile which they then attached to the proper box. Slowly, over the next few weeks, an image began to take shape, mosaic-style, in our otherwise blank grid.

Except for our reluctant student. After the first few weeks, his row, which happened not accidentally to run through the middle of the image, was still a set of blank white squares.

His classmates noticed.

And gently, kindly, without even a hint of drama, they suggested to him that it'd be real nice if he got his work done so the image would be properly revealed.

Heidi and I stifled our smiles and said nothing. But our eyes met across the classroom, twinkling with satisfaction.

We'll never know for sure what motivated our student to finally get his work done. All I can say is that by the time we reached Week Ten, each homework assignment had been completed, every single painted square had been properly attached to the right white box, and the final image was perfectly revealed.

* * * * *

This was not the only time that Heidi and I cooked up a successful scheme to gently move our students in the direction we wanted them to go. But this story is one of my favorites because it's such a perfect illustration of how we worked together to solve tough problems:

We stuck to our principles,

leaned in with love,

respected and trusted in our students' innate desire to do the right thing,

and used our own creativity to build truly unique solutions to whatever threatened to get in the way of our students' learning.

* * * * *

I've kept our completed chart for over a decade now, and whenever I see it, I smile to think what a unique, successful, and incredibly fun teaching partnership Heidi and I enjoyed together.

The sweet memories will surely last for a lifetime.

* * * * *

This story comes from a class Heidi and I taught on United States Landmarks. We spent a year discussing the historical, geographic, and cultural implications of one hundred of our nations's most iconic sites and scenes. The Mystery Monument featured in our motivational poster references the Statue of Responsibility, a project in process intended to balance the Statue of Liberty by reminding us that with freedom comes responsibility. The monument is scheduled to open on the west coast in 2025.

* * * * *

For more stories about this Landmarks class, and other social studies courses that Heidi and I designed, try this:

Teaching My Own: High School Social Studies

News Trend A COVID-19 Update|Actual

 I really hate to be the bearer of bad news but, due to COVID-19, the 2020 Seattle Saint Patrick's Day parade had officially been cancelled. Our redheads are going to be so disappointed.

As of tonight, Washington has been hit with 23 deaths from COVID-19. Of those, 20 were residents of the Kirkland nursing home. Department of Health data reveals that the at-risk population appears to be older people especially those with pre-existing medical conditions such as heart, lung, or kidney disease. Tests reveal that the disease is spreading; new cases in King County (Seattle) tops the state tonight with 116 confirmed cases, and my Snohomish County takes second place with 37.

Gracie absolutely loved the mix-and-mingle at last year's parade pre-funk.

Despite the dire statistics, life goes on:

Schools:

Here in Mukilteo, one high school and two elementary schools have been closed intermittently for cleaning after someone tested positive. To put that in perspective, we have three high schools, four middle schools, and eleven elementary schools. So most kids are getting to school most of the time.

Boeing:

An employee at our neighborhood Boeing wide-body jet plant tested positive for COVOID-19 recently, and is now quarantine and receiving treatment. People who worked closely with that person have been asked to self-quarantine; the affected work spaces and common areas were thoroughly cleaned. Boeing has asked employees who can work from home to do so, and assures employees that they are following all recommended health and paling aman. Otherwise, they are still building planes.

Ferries:

The Mukilteo Ferry keeps plugging away. Authorities have asked passengers to consider staying inside their cars during the crossings, which seems reasonable. That and some extra cleaning, and of course a reminder to stay home if you're sick rounds out the Washington State Ferries' advice.

I wish I had a shot that included all sixteen Irish Setters prancing down the street together. Tails a-wagging  tongues a-lolling, and red coats gleaming in the partly cloudy sun, they were a glorious sight to behold.

Walking Around:

Gracie and I take our daily walks as usual, and we see a fair number of folks out and about - commuters heading home from the bus stops, teenagers wandering here and there, other dog walkers with their beasts. Pedestrian activities around here vary wildly with the daily temperature and amount of water falling from the sky, but for the past few lovely sunshiney March afternoons, I'd say it's business as usual out on the streets.

My Classes:

One of my student's siblings have what appear to be common colds, but just to be sure, we cancelled group today. The parents of my co-op students have prudently decided to cancel their gatherings, which mix and mingle kids from half a dozen different families. I'm good with these healthy precautions. In lieu of face-to-face meetings, I can teach via videos and follow up with phone calls, and we can stay on track indefinitely.

Yes, we are talking about coronavirus quite a bit up here in these parts. But sensibly, most people tertekan the importance of commonsense prevention and not letting the over-hyped media get into our heads.

My little Irish pickle and me.

Here in coronavirus country, we are keeping calm and carrying on.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend Miracle Of Light |Actual

Today, I stood up at about five p.m., ready to take my dog for a walk. For the past few weeks, there’s been plenty of light in the sky at this time though if we don’t hustle out the door, we’ll be finishing our outing in the gathering gloom.  “Better hurry up, “ I told myself.

Then I looked. Glorious beams of sunlight played through my living room windows and lit my front hall up with their golden glow.

Behold the magic of Daylight Saving Time. I love this miracle of light.