News Trend Tales From The Windstorm|Actual

This story starts with a nap.

Yesterday, I came home from a busy day of teaching to find my dog and my fourth-born taking a lovely siesta on my bed. As the rain pitter-pattered peacefully against the window, I was irresistibly drawn to join them. Tugging on a free corner of the down comforter, I curled up in the last remaining corner of the bed and soon fell into a sweet dream of my own.

Whooooooosh

Swoooooop

SMASH

I awoke to sounds of great distress and destruction. Fierce winds had stirred up during my nap and now howled through my backyard, only gaining in force as they funneled between the rows of houses. But what caused the crash?

As I jumped up to pull shut the window, I suddenly understood. Two large panels of my six-foot cedar fence had burst from their supports, and now lay pell-mell across the garden.

A homeowner's tragedy to be sure, but I've been lobbying to get those four-by-fours replaced for years now. Looks like my fence has finally earned itself a spot at the top of the to-do list and I can't say I'm all that sad.

This is the first of my tales from our big wind storm, but it is not the last.

* * * * *

^ The gnarly winds whipping up the hill reached upwards of 60 miles per hour around my house, and reportedly topped out at close to 120 m.P.H. In the mountains. Lucky as we were, those gales still managed to wrestle this massive rose off my front trellis and deposit it on the sidewalk and street below.

^ So this afternoon, armed with various trimming devices, an eight-foot ladder, heavy pair of gloves, and my able assistants, Daughters Number Two and Four, I wrestled the beast into submission.

* * * * *

6:09 p.m. - Me, realizing that our power has miraculously survived the storm, so far:

"Tessa, maybe we should light some candles, just in case the power goes out."

Tessa: "Okay, I'm on it." Lights candles.

6:14 p.m. - We lose power.

6:29 p.M. - Husband returns home from work: "So, what's the dinner plan?"

                  Me (pathetically): "Umm, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"

                  Husband (purely logical): "But we're out of bread."

                  Me: "I just took a new loaf out of the freezer. We can defrost it....Oh, well, toast it...."

                  Husband (who almost never suggests that we eat out): "Frozen PB & J? Let's eat out."

                  Me: :)

6:40 p.m. - Driving along the main drag through town, we realize the power outage is more                                   widespread than we expected. We pass one low-cost option after the next, all dark and                          clearly closed., Before we know it, we end up at Alderwood Mall, where the power is on                       and business at all the big chain/pricey restaurants is booming.

6:55 p.m. - Husband: "Tessa, you have a lot of dietary restrictions. Where do you want to eat...the                          food court?"

                  Tessa, kind of joking, kind of not: "The food court is for hobos, How about P.F. Chang's?"

                  Me: "HOBOS? Really?? There are hobos who eat at the mall???"

                  Husband: "Alright."

7:15 p.m. - Me, happily tucking into my bowl of Singapore Street Noodles at a restaurant that I've                          been wanting to try for years: :)

* * * * *

^Thankfully, my big red balls survived the storm virtually unscathed. One, obviously, was upended, but all the rest of the aerodynamic darlings stayed right in place, rather than rolling down the hill to crash in a billion pieces, as one might expect.

* * * * *

Early this morning in the still hours before dawn, my brain emerged from the fog of sound sleep to hear Ranger scratching at my bedroom door. Slowly, I put together the facts of the matter.

Ranger wanted to go outside for his usual bathroom break.

He had missed the opportunity to slip out with my husband when he went downstairs.

It was in my best interests to help my dog make his way to the nearest bush.

And as I tossed back my covers, a fourth fact emerged:

The power was still out and it was freaking cold.

I stumbled to the door, eased it open past Ranger's eager nose, and let him out first. Much to my delight, I found my husband, still at home, walking up the stairs with a flashlight to retrieve Ranger.

When Ranger scratches at a door to go out, the whole house knows what's up.

Ready to leap back into my warm bed, I paused for a moment to watch the merry twosome head downstairs. My husband descended the first two steps, his flashlight beam trained on the wall ahead, his feet finding their way on the dark steps.

Ranger, however, froze at the top landing. He stood, expectantly watching and waiting, though I couldn't imagine why.

Then, on his own accord, my husband shifted the beam of light so that the steps themselves were now illuminated.

And Ranger immediately resumed his journey, safely trotting down the well-lit stairs.

All bragging aside, he is a remarkably smart and adaptable fellow. :)

* * * * *

^ Here's the scene of the backyard crime. The fencing panel on the left is hanging as precariously as a six-year-old's front tooth; the gap to the right represents the second panel which fully crashed and burned into the neighbor's shrubbery. I wonder how long the queue will be to get fence repair after this mighty storm.

* * * * *

Due to a downed power line drooping dangerously low over the street, Ranger and I were forced to alter the route of our daily walk today. When I veered off in this unexpected direction, he looked up at me in concern, clearly wondering if I had lost my mind. But as I rerouted us through a parking lot to eventually rejoin our normal path, he marched along happily, following my directional instructions and evidently trusting in my leadership.

All that changed the moment he caught sight of our normal trail. Though it was now within sight of our vantage point in the parking lot, we could not feasibly get to our walking path of choice until we hiked to the far end of the second lot, and then looped back onto the trail.

But while Ranger originally trusted my guidance, as soon as he saw the familiar pathway in plain view, he was bound and determined to get us back on track. He obediently returned again and again to my side upon command, but each time I let him wander to his own devices, he bee-lined right back toward that trail.

Happy and satisfied was the little guy when we finally completed our short cut and returned to the normal circuit. And amused was I to learn just how much our daily traditions mean to him.

* * * * *

^ Thank goodness my pallet garden was not harmed in the fence blow-out. I would have rebuilt it before dinner.

* * * * *

The storm blew itself out before bedtime last night. Our power came back on around noon today.

And when things got back to normal, I breathed a nice, big sigh of relief:

The load of laundry that was on spin when the storm hit can finally finish up.

Wool hats in the unheated house are no longer necessary.

The router is back online and hallelujah, the wifi is up.

And we can finally catch up on that all-important season finale of Below Deck that we so tragically missed last night.

But I will admit, for all the drama and inconvenience, I had some fun during this wild adventure and I am a bit sad to see it end; I'll remember these tales from the windstorm for a long time to come.

* * * * *

^Though the cats were a bit anxious during the heart of the storm, Luna quickly recovered his cool and headed back outdoors to supervise our clean-up.

Ooops, Looks like we missed an overturned chair. Sorry, boss.

News Trend Almost Home|Actual

During our summer road trip, we saw more interesting sights that I could squeeze into my real-time posts. Now that I'm back home and have fished all 548 photos off my devices, I have a few more road trip stories to share.

To catch up on the rest of the trip, starthere.

Drawing close to home is a pivotal moment in any road trip. But when you hail, as I do, from Seattle, Washington, where we find ourselves tucked all the way up into the extreme northwest corner of the continent, it's kind of a special big deal.

When we come back from the open road, there's a sense of retreat, of withdrawing from the wider world to our private little niche; a place that no one goes through; only to. During my early years in the Midwest, I returned from road trips to more centrally located, along-the-highway type hometowns, and the sense of retreat and return was considerably less emotional.

Hello, mighty Columbia River. I've been a Washingtonian for decades now, and I still can't believe I live so close to your wild, beautiful self.

^ Crossing your home state line certainly qualifies as a major milestone on any road trip, but in geographically bipolar Washington, the east side of the state feels as foreign as the moon to us west-siders. For me, it's not until I cross the mighty Columbia River that my heart truly begins to stir. With the wheat fields of the Palouse behind me, and the slow steady climb up the lee side of the Cascade Range about to begin, I sense the terrestrial tides beginning to turn.

Infinite stands of deep green firs growing thick and deep green across the mountains? Moody, overcast clouds? Dreamy patches of fog drifting across the landscape, even in the middle of a summer's day?

Check. Check. And check. I'm definitely back in the PNW.

But the high point - quite literally - of every trip home is arriving at Snoqualmie Pass. Here, at the crest of the mountains, the dry forests of eastern Washington give way in a rush to the lush, foggy Douglass firs, and the true Pacific Northwest begins.

From this summit, it's an hour max to downtown Seattle and the western terminus of Interstate 90. How satisfying it is to come literally to the end of the longest interstate in the US of A, and bumping smack dab into the little chunk of Pacific Ocean known as Puget Sound. You definitely know the road trip's over when you run out of land.

Then, with one last right turn, we head north for the final twenty minutes of our journey, rolling through the familiar city streets and suburbs of our normal, everyday life.

And then we are home, cozy in our little corner of the great big world, where we live our happy lives and wait with anticipation for the next road trip to begin.

News Trend Another Rainy Day|Actual

This morning, I woke up yet again to the patter of rain falling on the patio beneath my window.

Scratch that verb. Unlike most Pacific Northwest rainy days, I heard not a patter but a drumbeat of steady, hard rain, accompanied by intermittent gusts that sent soggy leaves tumbling across the grass and whipped my wind chimes into a frenzy.

In these parts, we call that a monsoon.

Despite these dark, dreary conditions, a photo shoot sat at the top of my to-do list for the day. Finally, finally! After a solid ten weeks' worth of construction setbacks and snafus, I had put the finishing touches on my brass hanging planter and the little darling was ready to vogue for the camera.

But when I set up the shot in my library, on the north side of the house, the photos were dark and grainy to the point of being unusable.

Sigh.

I reconvened in the south-facing kitchen, brightest room in the house. And while I managed to eek out a few marginal photos, the dismal conditions did nothing to showcase the ridiculous cuteness of my creation.

Brass tubing wired together Himmeli-style makes a clever design for a tiny planter; and I love everything about this delicious morsel, from its wrapped leather lead to the pentagonal pouch that cradles a bitty succulent.

When I couldn't find a small white bowl that suited me, I ended up making my own out of clay. I know. Call me stubborn but I am fiercely committed to the DIY.

Double sigh.

I considered deleting the whole crop of shadowy shots and doing retakes tomorrow. But let's be honest. It's been dumping rain for weeks now, and there's precious little sunshine in Seattle's November forecast. Every day for the foreseeable future promises more of the same murky atmosphere.

Today may be just another rainy day, but I've decided to accept it and make the best of it, gloomy photos and all.

* * * * *

In my opinion, you can never have too many succulents, and you can never have too many stories about succulents. Here are a few to choose from:

Court And Kylee's Succulent Party

Succulent Season

Franklin Park Conservatory

Confessions Of A Crazy Plant Lady

Pallet Possibilities

Another Rainy Day

Growing Things

This Is War

All In A Day's Work

Design Dilemmas

Wait For It

Shopping Spree

Saturday Spring Satisfaction

Sprouts

Tiny Tinsel Tree

Biology 101

Little Things

News Trend Fulfilled|Actual

For the past few nights, I have broken my own rules to stay up late and work on this planter.

First, about the project. Back in the seventies, my little emerging self loved hanging plants. With my hard-earned money and my mom, I marched myself to the Ann Arbor Art Fair each July and picked up a few more hand-made pottery hangers, and within a few years, amassed a sweet collection. My bedroom windows, both at home and at college, hosted seven or eight of these beauties, each with a luxurious kisi-kisi of greenery.

When the eighties came into full swing, I boxed up these bohemian treasures and left them to sit in various attics until a few years back, when the fashion of hippie-dippy hanging plants returned. Sadly, most of my collection crashed and burned soon after excavation. Besides my favorite little teacup of a planter who lives on to this day in my kitchen, only one other survived, albeit with a huge sprawling crack and frayed cords.

After months of eyeballing this poor beaten treasure, I finally decided to show some mercy and fix it up. Over the past few late nights, I Gorilla Glued the cracks and wove new macrame hangers; today I planted her up, and now my eighties princess is all ready to hang.

Second, about the late night. The biologically inarguable fact is that I am a night owl. However, I feel equal parts guilty and socially out of step when I keep late hours, and at predictable intervals, vow to make a change. This fall, I pledged to turn over yet another new early-bird leaf, and for the past few months, I've held myself to a bedtime of midnight. Ish.

And while it's nice to get eight full hours of sleep, I've not been feeling quite right. This may sound strange to anyone who is not a night owl, but trying to get my artistic jam on during the daytime just isn't the same. My creative energies fully unleash themselves only when the rest of my family has gone to bed, the house is clean and I am peacefully, blissfully alone.

This chunky, funky planter has reminded me how good it feels to hit that late-night sweet spot and abandon myself to full creativity. I may drop a few minus signs during my algebra classes in the morning, but working on art projects late at night is what I need to feel fulfilled.

* * * * *

More macrame projects to light your fire:

Fulfilled

Sugar, Sugar

A Macrame Home For My Spider Plant Family

Macrame Magic

Perfect Imperfections

Roses And Ivy

News Trend Normal|Actual

^ Tonight, midnight found me applying Gorilla Glue to the thirty-five year-old-cracks in this groovy seventies hanging planter.

Clearly, this was a job that simply could not wait one more minute.

^ Last night, at roughly the same hour, I was transforming these once-turquoise geometric elephant drawer pulls to gold, and creating three clay pinch pots.

What can I say. As a biologically hard-wired night owl, my creative energy peaks long after most people have tucked themselves into bed for the night, and as much as I try to keep hours that are "normal," these late-night power surges are normal for me.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

News Trend Pray For Paris|Actual

Horrible, terrible, unfathomable news from Paris today.

Gunmen.

Hostages.

Open fire.

Suicide bombers.

Death.

I am making a point to stay away from speculation and rumor-mongering about who did this and why. Until we have solid facts, I prefer not to play the blame game.

But I will say this.

No cause, no motivation, no explanation can justify these actions.

No political stance,

No religious imperative,

No frustration with the way things are will ever make it okay for humans to intentionally kill other human beings.

I still dare to dream that we can do better than this.

I pray for Paris.

I pray for us all.

News Trend Symmetrically Satisfied|Actual

Sometimes I just crave me a little symmetry.

Granted, most of the time, I'm more of a grouping-of-threes type decorator. I like my rooms to feel a bit dynamic, a tad collected, and a lot surprising and unexpected.

But I'll admit, on that late June evening when I decided that my living room was a muddled mess and committed myself to completely rethinking the space, I was ready to try anything.

This inspiration photo soon jumped into my eyeballs and imprinted itself on my brain.

One Kings Lane

I mean, this room is a little over the top for me. It's a bit shimmery and shiny for my organic tastes but that's not the point at all. What I really loved was the calm, controlled balance of that clean, cut-it-down-the-middle-with-a-knife symmetry.

Yum. Slice me up a piece of that pretty pie.

Now it's true that my financial resources are entirely limited, and I'm mostly making do with what I have. Lord knows I'd love to drop a few grand on some new white couches, and my pillows and artwork are definitely works in progress.I wouldn't hate a fresh coat of bright white paint on that woodwork, either.

Still, I happy to report that my living room has slowly but surely evolved into the feng shui-friendly haven that it is today.

And for that, I am symmetrically satisfied.