Dear Alice, I wanted you to know that this remains my absolutely favorite food so the minute Nanna walked in the door, on Friday, with a container full, I demanded that my Pappa heat some up immediately and it's pretty amazing how co-ordinated I am with a spoon and a bowl of soup! Hardly missed a bite. love Eva P.S. My hat is a wonderful Gautemalan head cover Nanna finally remembered to bring to me.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
The traffic light on the corner of Broadway and E. Pine Street turned red in the gathering light of the day on Saturday and I watched this couple stroll out of the store on the corner and pause, waiting for the light to change.
She looked spectacular! I wondered if she realized that the row of yellow button trim on her city shorts was a match for the shopping bag she was carrying? The peeking red top under her jacket was a perfect match for her shoes and as I watched she crossed one foot, over the other, and leaned in toward the young man with the fedora - something in the distance catching her eye.
I grabbed for the camera as Peter asked - WHAT are you doing?
I snapped the photo wishing the long haired young man who had sauntered into the picture hadn't been there at that moment ... but he too paused waiting for the light to change.
The car behind me tooted its horn encouraging me to go ahead and turn right ... this Seattle moment was over.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Each Wednesday evening in Spring and Summer a local sailing group, the Corinthian Yacht Club, heads out for a race. Watching from our home we see boats juggling for the perfect starting point and at 7pm the starting gun sounds and off they go. Sometimes - they go nowhere: not a breath of wind can they find and at other times it appears to be one point above a fire drill as furious winds blow, the boats maneuver to avoid each other - all in an effort to be first across the line.
On a recent Wednesday we watched a storm come racing across Puget Sound and the sailors grab for foul weather gear. Heavy wind and rain blew them around and more than one had some sail in the water.
And then ... a rainbow, brilliant against the grey background, divided the sky. The sailors gathered in their lines, reorganized and sailed on. Shortly thereafter a second rainbow appeared. What an amazing sight: white sails against a monochrome sky with rainbow hues for contrast.
A lone, small, boat sailed towards us and as we watched it sailed straight "through" the rainbow. We wondered aloud - is one changed by sailing through a rainbow? If yes - how are you different? What do you see? Could you take a photo of yourself as you sailed through the rainbow? What of the pot of gold? We were left to wonder.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Capturing images of "my mountain" has been a past time for more than 40 years. Growing up where the tallest mountain on the entire island continent (Australia) was 7,280 feet, it has been a source of amazement to me to be able to gaze upon this 14,410 foot peak whenever she shows herself - as seen from my front door.
The sun finally came out here in the Pacific Northwest a few days ago and Mt. Rainier showed herself in all her glory - just waiting for me to snap the shutter and capture one more image.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
It's mid way through the month of June and the sun is actually shining today: it's been shining all day. We have had a prolonged, wet, cold spring and many of us are craving extended periods of sun. Each year, most often in February, we are treated to spectacular sunrises like this one shown, and I publish this image here to remind us of the circles and cycles of the year and the thought that the sun sometimes even shines in February on a Pacific Northwest morning.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Tacoma is a city with a plethora of amazingly talented young artists: they keep turning up all over the place. (Of course we also have wonderful middle aged and older artists.) My latest exposure to our local talent was at the Pierce Country Library in Gig Harbor earlier this week when the pictured
(Jessica Spring ( left) and Chandler O'Leary) "unveiled" the latest in their series of Dead Feminist broadsides and discussed their process.
For information about the project in depth please go to ...
The latest in this series is called Drill Baby, Drill - a now well known phrase uttered across the airwaves in recent times which has taken on new meaning with the horrendous, gushing, exploded oil well in the Gulf of Mexico. This broadside is their Chandler and Jessica's response to this international tragedy - the effects of which may not be truly known for years.
An enormous amount of research goes into each one of these productions and these two young women deserve kudos for their intention as well as for the work itself. Congratulations to the "Ladies of the Pencil, Pen and Press"!
By the way a broadside was what we usually call a poster today: but it was, in the past, the way information was disseminated to the masses. I like best the definition from Wikipedia ... and it's reference to the use of a broadside to publish a musical ballad. The Dead Feminist piece you'll have to read about at Anagram Press.
"A broadside is a single sheet of cheap paper printed on one side, often with a ballad, rhyme, news and sometimes with woodcut illustrations. They were one of the most common forms of printed material between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, particularly in Britain, Ireland and North America and are often associated with one of the most important forms of traditional music from these countries, the ballad." (Wikipedia)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Is it a side-ways swipe across the face from a feminist? Could it be a minor swipe from a feminist against the side of your car?
Maybe a comment "at" someone from a feminist who was perceived as making a "broadside" ( in a sort of sniping manner)?
Hmmm ... I don't think so and what would these two young women have to do with a Feminist Broadside???
Have to investigate further!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
neighborhood. With quiet restored I looked out to see how had the poppies fared? Not well.
That plant I had been watching for days was now lying on its side, totally knocked down by the storm. I was reminded of a piece of Australiana (my country of origin) which pervades the culture in a way that many people
find negative and non beneficial in any way.
It's called The Tall Poppy Syndrome.
The analogy has to do with "what happens to tall poppies?" - the answer being either they get their heads knocked off or they get knocked down. In other words don't be too successful and for goodness sakes should you work like mad and have great successes, do not under any circumstance tell anyone or "boast" about it, cos for sure you will get knocked down!
The confusion for me has always been the duality of (Australian) people seeing themselves, or someone they admire, as a "battler" ... meaning that in spite of huge odds a person battles on and either "wins" or overcomes some challenge. Being a "battler" is a good thing. However it is crucial that at the same time you don't speak too much about your success.
A vivid example for me was congratulating a family member on a wonderful scholastic achievement and another family member saying there was no
need to make a fuss and that the achiever would know within themselves
if they had done a good job or not: praise was not necessary.
I probably won't ever solve my issues with this "syndrome". Life can be very challenging and at times extraordinarily difficult. Achievements should be celebrated in my opinion. There is no way for me to understand why someone would choose to put someone down, rather than raise them up and "make a fuss" of their successes.
Much has been written about the Tall Poppy Syndrome and if you put the phrase into a search engine one can now find references all the way back to antiquity. But it doesn't solve the question about the "whys" of this idea for me. And yet I hear my maternal grandmother cautioning me "Remember, pride always comes before a fall"! Hmmm!
BACK TO THE POPPIES:
It was difficult to believe the amount of devastation the driving rain had created in the garden. One could almost feel the "bruises" of the raindrops on the pink, silken petals. The one blossom which had opened, revealing it's blackish velvet center was now dashed to pieces and part of it returning to the dark earth below.
However as I walked to look further, there was one of my neighbor Bob's bees
diving into the center of the neighboring poppy. That bee didn't care that there were blemishes on the petals: its legs were heavy with pollen as I watched it head north to the bee hive to deposit the collected pollen stopping to collect just a little more on another flower and in so doing, assuring that next year I may get to watch this ritual of spring one more time.
I'll no doubt continue to mull the issues of the Tall Poppy Syndrome longer than next spring!