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Thursday, September 10, 2020

News Trend Poolside In Havana|Actual

Welcome to the backyard at the Embassy of Malaysia in Havana, Cuba. Come, let me show you around.

I know, right? Such a joy and a privilege to share this shaded patio and sun-drenched pool with my friendly diplomatic host family.

Yes, the tropical August heat is almost unbearable, but a few moments in the pool cool me right down again and set me to rights. Then I slowly dry off on my towel till I'm roasting hot, then splash into the water and start the cycle all over again.

I'm enjoying every sunny moment in my Malaysian backyard.

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Check out more stories about my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba and my wonderful friends who lived there:

I Will Bake You A Pie

Cuban Makan

Cuban Economics

El Malecon Cloudburst

A La Playa

Creepy Cuban Kudzu

Plaza De La Revolucion

Old Havana

Poolside in Havana

A Cuban Sunset Story

Sunset Chasers, Cuban Edition

The Puppy At The Castle

Old Havana On The Eve Of Fidel's Birthday

An ASEAN Celebration

Nayli's Bedroom

Varadero, Cuba

Winding Down

Dear Cuba

Aqil's Chicken

The Gentle Art Of Reframing

My Cuban Home

Tickled Pink

Full Circle

Chicken Drumsticks

News Trend Roses And Ivy|Actual

On this sunny Sunday afternoon, as I sat on my front patio watching Grace tuck into her post-walk dinner bowl with her usual gusto, I radiated in the glow of accomplishment.

Because on this very day, I finished a project that I started literally three years ago.

Could've been four. Or possibly even five. After all this time, it's hard to recall the exact moment when the seed of an idea was planted.

But there was a day when I stood in Sky Nursery looking at the outdoor macrame plant holders and thought, Hey maybe a row of hanging pots would be just the ticket for that hard-to-grow west side of my house.

Though my macrame chops were purely undeveloped at that point, I took great confidence in my ability to make said plant holders. Just to be on the safe side, I decided to buy one to use as a prototype. So I invested twenty bucks in my brand new idea, took the hanger home, and hung it up - empty - on a nail already positioned in more or less the right place.

Aaaand....That's all.

For three, four, maybe five years, that empty macrame plant hanger hung there on that sad little nail, flimsy and forlorn, while I tackled other, more urgent projects in the same area.

This summer, however, the winds of change finally blew in the right direction.

Emboldened by my other knot-tying projects and ready to bring some closure to my west side story, I finally got busy.

And now, on this full and rich late August day, I have brought my project to fruition.

As Gracie licked the last few crumbs from the bottom of her bowl, I grabbed my camera and slipped off around the corner to grab a few photos. I must confess that my pink rosebush sidetracked me.

Correction. It's not exactly pink. The color of this rose is delicate and dynamic, shifting as it blooms from pale yellow to tips of pink to a soft apricot blush. The colors are pure heaven, and as I walked by, I could not help but take a moment to capture the late summer blossoms .

Soon enough, I drowned myself in the roses' glory, and resuscitated myself to regain control of my mission.

Oh, right. The hanging pots.

There are five of them in all. They hang from the ends of my rafters along this narrow walkway, filling in the spaces above tiny gardens of ground cover, along my pallet walkway.

Each hanger holds a pot of ivy. In time, the graceful green leaves will spill down in long tendrils, poetic and self-contained and quite unlike the invasive vines I once grew to monstrous proportions along this same space. Never again will I plant such villainous beasts in the ground again, but safely confined to terra cotta, I welcome the ivy back.

Each ivy is a slightly different variety, and each planter is a different design. This first one is the original I bought at Sky oh, so many years ago, and I must say, it has weathered nicely.

The other four I made from various cords and twine that I already had on hand. I milled about online looking at various patterns. Since these bad boys will be spending their lives out in the elements, I figured it made sense to keep the designs simple and replace them from time to time, if they get to looking shabby. No need to get overly fussy. So I mixed up my repertoire of basic knots and improvised with wild abandon. My favorite kind of project.

As I have boastfully explained to my husband more than once (more than twice), I spent almost nothing on this project.

Already had all the cording supplies on hand.

Same for the pots.

I used up my ever-present supply of potting soil, so I spent ten dollars on a new bag.

I bought the ivy for a total of twenty two dollars.

And the cost of that original model was around twenty dollars as well.

The knots were free.

Spinning gold from straw - also my favorite kind of project.

I was just about to photograph the fifth model when I heard the familiar sound of footsteps along the path beside the rose bush, slipping up behind me.

And there was Gracie, my faithful macrame assistant who politely napped through my work sessions, joining me to celebrate our completed project.

She joined me in a victory lap through the hanging ivy garden and we both radiated happiness in the late summer sun.

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More macrame projects to make your dreams come true:

Fulfilled

Sugar, Sugar

A Macrame Home For My Spider Plant Family

Macrame Magic

Perfect Imperfections

Roses And Ivy

News Trend Hiking At The Beach|Actual

There is much to be said for the glory of a mountain hike.

Deep forests.

Soaring trees.

Rocky outcroppings.

Streams and waterfalls.

And if you play your cards right, at the top,  a mountain lake or a flower-strewn meadow or a vista that knocks off your proverbial socks.

I love that my Pacific Northwest backyard is full of the best in mountain hikes.

But.

For my money, a beach hike is where it's at.

Ebey's Landing for example, is a perfect day's adventure. Drop a pin about two-thirds the way up good ol' Whidbey Island, and hop a ferry; we made our way there in just over an hour.

^ The trail head parking is literally on the beach, and plenty of people had simply poured out of their cars and onto the sand, but our plan was to hike the lima.6 mile round trip Bluff Trail. Right out of the gates, the way leads up a steep hill through golden grasses under a perfect blue sky.

Warm sunshine tempered by crisp breezes off the water kept us cool as we climbed.

The Olympic Mountains stood guard on the horizon, and ahead through the Strait of Juan de Fuca we saw the wide open ocean.

^ Once we chugged our way up to the top of the bluff, the trail leveled off. Sunlight poured over us as we wound our way along the edge of the cliff, enjoying the broad vistas and wildflowers at our feet.

^ Though she has a firm understanding of the purpose of trails, and usually leads our hiking party exactly where we want to go, Gracie enjoyed a bit of off-road adventuring, occasionally exploring the grasses on both the up side and the down side of our kisi-kisi.

^ The trail eventually leads round a bend in the land, and in a flash, Perego's Lake suddenly popped into view. Interestingly, this lagoon created a new sense of perspective for me, and I suddenly realized just how high we were above it.

^ Perhaps Gracie noticed that too; maybe she got a touch of vertigo or the heat of the day got the best of her. But as we passed a shady patch of grass under a tree along the kisi-kisi, she suddenly detoured into the shadows and laid herself down, panting heavily. Poor pup was clearly pooped, so we broke out her kisi-kisi drinking dish and our precious supply of water, and helped her cool down.

^ Soon enough, we were marching along again. The trail continued to wind along the bluff all the way to the far end of the lagoon, then dropped precipitously through a series of switchbacks down the grassy hillside to the beach.

^ As we hopped over the jumbled beach logs and crossed twenty feet to the shore, Gracie all but sprinted the final distance. She raced into the shallow waves, plopped down on her belly, and let the deliciously brisk waters wash over her overheated body.

^ I did the same.

Comfortably perched on an enormous beach log serving as both table and chairs, we broke out our picnic lunch and dined in the sunshine with our toes in the warm sand and the sparkling sea just beyond. I waded in the waves with Gracie, hunted for perfect white stones, and drank in the scenery.

^ And then, when we all felt rested, refreshed, and relaxed, we tied our shoes to our backpacks and walked barefoot along the wet sand for the return leg of our journey.

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Now I know that there are those who prefer the alpine adventure of  a mountain hike. And I won't argue that. But for me, the salty scent of sea breezes, the sparkling sunshine on the water, and the sensation of sand under my feet carries me away to a magical place like nothing else. After more than three decades, I still pinch myself to believe that I live among these beautiful beaches, and I find the greatest joy in hiking them.

^ And as a insentif, the very best beach hikes, like this one, end with a ferry ride home

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More stories about beach hikes? Here you go:

With Peace And New Beginnings

Heidi And I Go For A Walk

We Both Like Whidbey

The Last Day Of My Summer Vacation

Walking On Rialto Beach

Double Bluff Beach

Hiking At The Beach

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Wanna see some Instax photos I took on this hike? Gohere

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

News Trend A Cuban Sunset Story|Actual

My second Cuban sunset.

We drove out to the far corner of the Hemingway Marina and hopped over the sea wall to take in the sights from the edge of the Caribbean Sea.

Picnickers nearby filled the air with Cuban love songs, blasted from their car. The lyrics fromQuerida offered the same sweet sentiment as the setting sun.

Then, just as the sun was slipping away, a young couple joined our team of sun gazers. Nineteen or twenty years old, they caught my eye as they strolled from their car; a happy, effortlessly attractive pair. In the classic Cuban manner, he was carrying an open bottle of beer. But his girlfriend had poured her drink into a stemmed glass and the bubbles sparkled in the low light as she carefully walked toward the sea.

He jumped up on the sea wall first, and stretched out his hand to help her daintily make the climb, her sundress blowing in the breeze. Then she carefully balanced her delicate glass on the weathered concrete, gathered up a handful of loose rocks, and began throwing them one by one into the waves.

She took great delight in her game, pointing and laughing after each toss. Her boyfriend made a few throws himself, but mostly he admired her efforts.

After a few minutes, her arsenal clearly spent, I saw her point toward the land. Then her boyfriend jumped back off the wall into the grassy field, gathered up another big handful of rocks against his crisp white shirt, and brought them back to her.

And as we ambled back to our car, slapping mosquitoes away against the growing darkness, the couple remained, happily throwing rocks into the Caribbean Sea at twilight.

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Check out more stories about my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba and my wonderful friends who lived there:

I Will Bake You A Pie

Cuban Makan

Cuban Economics

El Malecon Cloudburst

A La Playa

Creepy Cuban Kudzu

Plaza De La Revolucion

Old Havana

Poolside in Havana

A Cuban Sunset Story

Sunset Chasers, Cuban Edition

The Puppy At The Castle

Old Havana On The Eve Of Fidel's Birthday

An ASEAN Celebration

Nayli's Bedroom

Varadero, Cuba

Winding Down

Dear Cuba

Aqil's Chicken

The Gentle Art Of Reframing

My Cuban Home

Tickled Pink

Full Circle

Chicken Drumsticks

News Trend Less Than Perfect|Actual

"Your photography is a record of your living, for anyone who really sees." -Paul Strand

"Instead of trying to make your life perfect, give yourself the freedom to make it an adventure, and go ever upward." -Drew Houston

Little dog, big world: v iews along the trail at Ebey's Landing.

When I hike, I take a lot of photos. And because my rusty old iPhone 6S is barely up to the task, I keep my Nikon at the ready in my holster, pulling it out and firing it off to take photos every few steps along the trail.

There's a special joy in capturing crisp, clear shots of the beautiful places I go, and compared to every other camera I've used in my life, this one takes fantastically perfect photos.

As I was trudging along, I accidentally creased the corner of the photo on the left,

and the instant-development chemicals created that weird little dark triangle. Another imperfection that only adds to the photo's scruffy charm.

So it's laughably ironic that on my left wrist usually dangles my Instax 8. Forget all the fancy dials, meters, and metrics on my DSLR; this little baby sports four light settings and an always-on flash. It spits out bitty little technically-compromised photos that do not even begin to compare to the realistic precision of my Nikon shots.

The images are blurry and the colors are a bit washed out. But when I look at these shots, I remember with perfect clarity the quality of brilliant sunlight on the sparkling water.

But why, then, do I love my Instax photos so much? Why do I treasure each one for the tiny, precious memory it holds? Why is it that I leave my perfect digital images resting tidily on their memory cards and in neatly organized files on my desktop, while propping up my Instax shots here and there around the house, admiring them and sharing them with anyone who walks by?

I'm not sure, but maybe I'm just a little more comfortable embracing something that is less than perfect. Because things that are less than perfect are a whole lot more like me.

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To look at technically superior photos of my delightful hike at Ebey's Landing, go here.

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More stories about my Instax photos:

Surprising Pjoe And Amy

Self-Development

Missing Mexican Memories

Keeping Score

Less Than Perfect

News Trend Sunset Chasers: Cuban Edition|Actual

Earlier this evening, we were heading into Old Havana on a different adventure. But when we wheeled round the corner and caught our first glimpse of the open air above the sea, all bets were off

"Amazing! Beautiful! Unbelievable!" I poured out every accolade I could conjur.

Now if I had been at home, behind the wheel of my own car, no doubt I would have dropped everything to get that shot. I've a long, well-documented history of sunset chasing. But as a backseat passenger in a foreign land, I didn't feel it was my place to demand a detour. So I sat back and prepared to drive through.

"You have your camera?" my host, Khairi, asked.

"Of course."  I don't leave home without it

Wordlessly, he spun us round, pulled onto a side street and drove us right straight to the edge of the land.

I jumped out of the car, finger on the shutter, and found this scene waiting for me.

I'm glad I got the shot, but I'm even happier to know that my Malaysian friend in Cuba chases sunsets too.

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Check out more stories about my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba and my wonderful friends who lived there:

I Will Bake You A Pie

Cuban Makan

Cuban Economics

El Malecon Cloudburst

A La Playa

Creepy Cuban Kudzu

Plaza De La Revolucion

Old Havana

Poolside in Havana

A Cuban Sunset Story

Sunset Chasers, Cuban Edition

The Puppy At The Castle

Old Havana On The Eve Of Fidel's Birthday

An ASEAN Celebration

Nayli's Bedroom

Varadero, Cuba

Winding Down

Dear Cuba

Aqil's Chicken

The Gentle Art Of Reframing

My Cuban Home

Tickled Pink

Full Circle

Chicken Drumsticks

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

News Trend The Puppy At The Castle|Actual

Castillo de los Tres Reyes Magos del Morro - Morrow Castle -has guarded the entrance to Havana Harbor since 1589 and to this day dominates the cityscape.

Perched across the water from the main city, the castle provides the perfect place to see the city, stretch one's legs, and take in a sumptuous sunset.

After the sun had gloriously descended into the Caribbean waters, my friends and I strolled back up the royal hill. Majestic clouds piled up on the horizon; heat lightning flashed all around us.

In the gathering darkness, a princely puppy came over to play. Frisky and small, maybe two months old, he junmped up against my leg and investigated my hands. Finding no food there, he gently mouthed my wrists and clearly invited me to play. I talked to him cheerfully and he listened, sitting near my feet and cocking his head at the sound of my voice.

My little friend was clearly not a stray. He wore a makeshift collar around his neck, with a large card I could not read in the darkness. I assumed he belonged to someone at the nearby food stall.

But as our car appeared, and we all jumped in and moved off, I looked back to see my little friend, sitting exactly where I left  him, serenely watching as our car drove away.

And while I know it's just a fantasy, I like to think that this regal little fellow lives on at the castle, welcoming all who come to see the sunsets.

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Check out more stories about my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba and my wonderful friends who lived there:

I Will Bake You A Pie

Cuban Makan

Cuban Economics

El Malecon Cloudburst

A La Playa

Creepy Cuban Kudzu

Plaza De La Revolucion

Old Havana

Poolside in Havana

A Cuban Sunset Story

Sunset Chasers, Cuban Edition

The Puppy At The Castle

Old Havana On The Eve Of Fidel's Birthday

An ASEAN Celebration

Nayli's Bedroom

Varadero, Cuba

Winding Down

Dear Cuba

Aqil's Chicken

The Gentle Art Of Reframing

My Cuban Home

Tickled Pink

Full Circle

Chicken Drumsticks