In Memory of My Father

My father died fourteen years ago today. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him. In the beginning, the first few months after his death, my family dreamed of him in dreams that felt more like visitations. His presence was palpable. If he touched us we could feel the warmth of his hands, if he spoke his voice was as real as it was in life. We wouldn't say, "I dreamed of Dad l last night," we'd say, "Dad visited me last night." It was that vivid. Those dreams helped bridge the time between our broken and our mended hearts.

The last few days of a loved one's life are often full of poignancy. Everything is perceived through the lens of mortality, and is rendered despairingly vivid. Vignettes of love and loss. I remember my brother shaving my father's face, something he could no longer do for himself. I remember my father joking how he still planned to get himself on to the commode, so that my mom or the the kids wouldn't have to assist him. I remember how we played our family version of Jeopardy. The clue: In 1962, third house down on the right. The family had a dog. The Question: Who was Taffy? We recited much of our family history playing that game. We laughed so hard and cried so long. I remember during one of his final moments of lucidity, with his four children, his sister and brother-in-law, and his beloved wife standing around his bed, he looked at us and said, "I can really get you all together, can't I?" I remember that I prepared the last full meal my dad ate, the day before he died. He wanted Chicken Chow Mein, his favorite. He recited the recipe to me. He told me how to cut up the chicken the way he liked it. "Don't do chunks. I don't want chunks. Shred it, okay?" Absolutely, Dad. Any way you want it.

I wrote this poem shortly after he died:

as you crossed the bridge
how much like Munch's Scream you looked
mouth black, opened wide
gasping for air that your aching lungs
had been for hours denied
and yet, you turned your wide eyes on us
and took us in like a delicious breeze
for a moment
a broad candle-lit pumpkin smile
replaced the cavernous gasping
as you looked at me, your daughter
and at Helen, your sister
who sat at your bedside, holding your
delicately-soft fingers
too slender and weak to hold even a
child's spill-proof cup
we wiped your forehead and cheeks
and talked to you
sharing our family's life blood
of joyous loving gossip...
and told you of those who called that day,
the last of your life, just to see.. to see...
but we knew you heard us less and less
as that relentless procession held you in sway,
finally when we could no longer
offer a single respite from the anguish
they came and lifted you upon a stretcher that
promised to take you more gently to the other side
with soothing morphine elixirs and the hum of machines
and there on your last passage from the bedroom
through the living room
to your dying room
you held my hand one last time,
looked so deeply at me,
and managed to mouth the words "I love you,"
without making a sound

For previous remembrances of my sweet father look here, here, and here.
I still love you, Dad.

Not Raccoon-Proof Fence

We have been trying to figure out how the raccoon was getting into the yard. The deer fencing has been surprisingly successful keeping the deer and the coyotes out. It just doesn't do as well for the bobcat or raccoons. But we didn't know where their entry point was. Until now. And, to be perfectly honest, what we do know is how the raccoon gets out of the yard. (Click on the photos, and let the pictures tell the story.)

I caught a glimpse of our little tail-less bandit in the middle of the afternoon.





I followed him as he headed toward the furthest corner beyond the orchard.





He climbed head up over the fencing.







Then began a head-first descent.







I have to admit I was a little surprised that he traveled down the fence this way.







I think I expected him to leap with great agility, straight to the ground.





But this guy moved as slowly as a sloth.





Pausing to think things through.







Then proceeded with slow deliberation.





And finally made it to the ground, where he pretended he had never been in our yard at all.

Wildlife, Southern Exposure, and High Speed Internet

We went for a hike on Saturday to look for Snowy Owls. A friend had stopped by and mentioned that he had spoken to someone who had seen more than fifteen white owls on this off-the-beaten-trail trail. Within minutes the three of us were out the door and heading south to find this trail. It was wicked cold and damp back there, and we had to slash our way through thorny and thick brush to get around ankle-deep, bone-chilling pools that spread across parts of the trail. We forged on, ever hopeful. We would have been thrilled to see even one Snowy Owl, but that just was not going to happen. In fact, when we tracked down the person who had told the story, it turned out that what she had seen was a family of Great Horned Owls. Something we would have been absolutely happy to see, but she also had not described the path so well. We turned right, but should have turned left at the very first juncture. Well, now we know for next time.
But while we were talking with her, somewhere out along Paradise Bay, an eagle soared with the seagulls. We were seeing new parts of the peninsula and started fantasizing about buying a yurt and moving way out where there's nothing but wildlife, southern exposure, and high speed internet. How far out would you go, and what would you need to make life liveable when you got there?
It's Sunday morning, we're heading out the door to go exploring. Maybe we'll find a home site somewhere, or maybe we'll see a snowy owl. Wish us luck.

Two Morning Surprises

We woke to a light dusting of snow on Thursday. It was a surprise, and we loved it. While I was photographing the light and snow on the pond, I wondered if anything ever comes by here to drink, besides the birds.I figured something must. The goldfish seem to be gone for good this time. I've been seeing a Great Blue Heron in the mornings when I open the blinds. I catch just a glimpse of its wings as it clears the firs, and flees.

On Friday, when I opened the blinds, I was greeted by this sight.
Aha! A strange, tail-less raccoon was scooting along the rocks along the pond edge. It stopped to take a drink by the waterfall, then headed toward the orchard,
where it hunkered down comfortably to clean its little front paws. Maybe the heron had some competition for those goldfish after all.

It was a fine warm day. We got out into the garden and scattered wildflower seeds on two prepared flower beds, and planted some dahlias. The pirate planted the blue potatoes in two large pots. It's probably much too early for some of these endeavors, but the warm weather shooed away any thoughts of late winter freezes. Afterwards, we headed out to the nursery/hardware store, but took a detour to the beach where the pirate goes clamming, to see it at high tide.
No sooner had we stepped out of the car when this magnificent eagle sailed over us. I just had time to focus and shoot. I swear it felt like it was looking back at us. (Click to enlarge photos, especially to see if this one was looking down at us!)

i say potato, you say pahtahtoh

last year we grew three kinds of potatoes. all were fairly successful. i'm guessing that we harvested 50 to 75 pounds.

these are white potatoes of some sort which grew from seed potatoes i got at our local feed/seed place. i know, i'm supposed to keep track of what i plant. they grew very well, but produced a ton of small potatoes. a cliche. i think i didn't keep the growing plants well enough watered. they have barely any sprouts. they store well. they are tasty.


these are blue potatoes, grown from feed/seed store bought taters. okay, i'm a sucker for horticultural oddities. blue potatoes, at least the ones we grew, are a wowser to serve, but not quite as tasty as the other color taters we grew. it is an interesting plate with poached eggs on fried blue potatoes. they clearly do not store as well as either of the white potatoes. i think we'll pass on growing the blues this year. well, maybe a few. our friend taradaharma, whom we have known in actual real life for many years, has honored us with a post showing the blue potato flowers, and a fine poem by robert linssen.


these are from supermarket taters, sprouting in the plastic bag months after we bought them, which we planted. they store well also, and taste good.

i'd like to grow two varieties of white potatoes this year, from seed potatoes. maybe a few blues, but i think the ones we have will be too far sprouted when it's time to plant them.

Hey PZ-- Happy Birthday!

Today we are participating in a blogger surprise birthday party for PZ Myers at Pharyngula. PZ is the sane voice that endlessly and tirelessly shouts out on behalf of science and evolution. He put godlessness, atheism, and biology on the blogger map. We found him over a year ago (thanks to Philalethes at Bouphonia), and have been fans ever since.


So, for PZ on his birthday, we say here's a photo of tufts of rabbit fur that we found on our driveway this morning. We're sure that it was either a coyote or bobcat that took its meal here.


Here's a fresh sand dollar,








a sand dollar skeleton,







and a fossilized sand dollar.



Millions of years passed on this planet for this beautiful transition.



Here are the grey skies over the Olympic Peninsula, land that you love.






Happy Birthday, PZ.

(And thanks to grrlscientist at Living the Scientific Life for throwing this blogger surprise party.)

Sun, Rain, and Sky - Morning, Noon, and Night

On Sunday there was a rainbow to the east. It arched against the stormy sky and left its gold just beyond our garden.
On Monday there was a rainbow to the west. It arched against the bluest sky, and left its gold where the bobcat roams.
The sun set in shades of gray and gold, and left us still warm after a day of spring. When darkness fell we heard the first frogs of the season.
When the sun rose on Tuesday, the pirate looked west at the newly revealed mountains and saw the first light reflected in the snow there.

The colors changed every few minutes and finally settled into something that lit the western sky in layers of rose, sand, coral, and salmon.
We are expecting a late winter storm over the next few days. Wind and rain, maybe even snow. After these past few beautiful days, we are ready for whatever comes.