I was sick Sunday and yesterday, alas, but on Saturday my friend Judy drove me to Westport, where we ate fish and chips and we went to the Maritime museum where I got to see their magnificent first order Fresnel lens before I went back to her van and took a nap, while she toured the rest of the museum (I’d been there several times before and I was pretty tired after the 2-hour drive), then went out to the promenade where I actually walked all the way to the first bench, which has a wonderful view of the ocean.
Then I slept most of the way back, but that’s okay.
Here’s the usual photographic proof! I have a video I want to post as part of this as soon as I figure out how to crop video, too.
And the next morning, Judy and I started the process that will end with her taking over the distribution of my books and the upkeep of my website when I’m gone. So my legacy will live on without me. This makes me so happy.
Yesterday, my quilting friend Kathy came over the mountains and took me to Paradise on Mt. Rainier. We ate lunch (divine mac and cheese) at the National Park Inn at Longmire, then headed on up. It was absolutely beautiful, and here is the proof:
A couple of plant close-ups.
And some little critters.
A view headed down the Mountain.
And the absolutely lovely quilt I was given by my fellow members of the Washington State Internet Quilters (WASIQ). Thank you so much to all of you!
It was a long but glorious day. I darned near slept the clock around last night, I was so tired, but it was so, so, so worth it…
Tonight my friend Tina and I went to a program/exhibit at the Lacey library. It was put on by the Pacific Northwest Vintage Sewing machine organization. It was fascinating. All kinds of antique and vintage sewing machines, as well as a program where several people spoke about them. Some folks there own more than a hundred sewing machines!
There were also quilts up on the library’s walls from a couple of local guilds, which was nice.
And I got to try a sewing machine about the right age to have been Karin’s sewing machine from True Gold, which was truly cool.
Here are some of the photos I took.
Oh, and by the way, this is a photo of the Golden Staircase up to the top of Chilkoot Pass that Karin carried her sewing machine over, and the conditions in which she would have done it.
Mima mounds are one of those quasi-mysterious landforms that no one really has an explanation for. They occur in various places in North America and elsewhere, but the landform itself is named after the mounds on the Mima Prairie, which happens to be just down the road from where I live (I’m northeast of Olympia, Washington, and the mounds are about 10 miles south of Oly). This area is also one of the few examples of native prairie left in western Washington, as well as a prime example of the mounds. It’s now preserved as a Natural Area Preserve by the state of Washington, and as a Natural National Landmark by the federal government.
I’d been there once before not long after I moved to Washington, then I completely forgot about it. Which is really too bad, actually.
But the real draw for me, especially this time of year, is the flowers. Of course. I saw at least a dozen different kinds. Here are some of them.
And two other non-flower photos.
Oh, and by the way, it’s pronounced like lima bean, not like Lima, Peru.
I remember first hearing about this amazing Chinese archaeological find decades ago. It may even have been when it was first discovered, although I was a pretty self-absorbed teenager back in the 1970s. It seems like it was always a part of my imagination, an entire city built underground, filled with wonders, first and foremost of which was an entire population made of terracotta clay – like flowerpots. Mostly an army, but others as well, and animals, inhabiting a place where rivers ran with mercury, all built by an emperor who wanted to be immortal.
I have wanted to go see that terracotta city for what seems like forever, but a trip to China has never been in the cards.
Well, yesterday, China came to see me. Seattle’s Pacific Science Center is one of only two American stops (the other will be in Philadelphia) on a tour of a wonderful exhibit of the Terracotta Warriors, and yesterday my friend Loralee and I went to see it.
It was amazing. I really don’t have words. The story and history behind the terracotta army beggar belief, but to see the actual statues, and learn about how they were made, and why, and for whom…
Anyway, I may not have words, but I do have photos, and here are some of them. If you’re going to be anywhere near Seattle between now and September (and if you can still get a ticket – this exhibit has been wildly popular) or if you’re going to be in Philadelphia when it’s open there, all I can say is – GO. It’s an amazing and wonderful thing, and everyone who can should see it.
They haven’t opened the emperor’s actual tomb, both because they’re afraid they’ll destroy it unintentionally, and because the levels of mercury in the soil above the tomb are so toxic that it’s completely unsafe for anyone to do so. Maybe someday they will open it, if they can ever figure out how to solve those two problems first. But in the meantime, all we can do is wonder. And wow, do I wonder.
I always wake up at the crack of dawn when I’m camping. Especially this time of year when it gets light before six in the morning. But that’s okay.
I’m not sure why (am I ever sure why?) I decided to drive up to Lake Chelan this morning, but I never really have before. I stopped in the touristy town of Chelan, at the foot of the lake, to buy batteries for my camera and to stick my head in a quilt shop on the main drag. Whoever their fabric buyer is, her taste does not agree with mine. I’m not a big fan of what I think of as sixties neon, and that was about all that little shop held.
There is no road clear around Lake Chelan. It’s a landlocked fjord, and the upper end of the lake reaches deep into the North Cascades. There are two roads on either side. The one on the north shore of the lake is only about twenty miles long. The one on the south side is about twice that length, so that’s the one I took.
Lake Chelan is the third deepest lake in North America at over 1500 feet deep (the bottom is lower than sea level), according to a sign I read at the ferry landing. It’s roughly 55 miles long, and varies from one to two miles wide. It’s also pretty darned gorgeous. I stopped at the Fields Point Landing, a few miles up the lake, to poke around the visitor center and ask about the ferry that runs daily to Stehekin, the tiny settlement at the head of the lake. One of these days I want to take that trip, but the boat had left an hour or so earlier. Next time.
But I saw beautiful views, anyway, and more flowers.
I’d thought about camping at 25 Mile Creek State Park at the end of the road that night, but it wasn’t even noon yet, and I decided I wanted to actually go on up to the Okanogan. So, stopping along the way to make a picnic lunch, I headed up to the town of Omak, where one of my favorite quilt shops (Needlyn Time) is. And, yes, this time I bought fabric, which I needed like a hole in the head, but tough.
After that, I headed up to Conconully, the little town that inspired the ghost town of the same name in my Unearthly Northwest books.
Conconully is one of the few towns I know of with a state park right at the edge of town. But it’s a nice state park, and the campsite I wound up at was right on the lake and pretty secluded. I spent what was left of the afternoon just enjoying the day and reading, and listening to the red-winged blackbirds sawing their courtship cries. Oh, and watching the geese and ducks use the lake as a landing and launch pad. And the deer eating the campground’s mowed grass.
All in all, I drove a bit more than I had intended, but it was well worth it.
It’s no secret that this has been the wettest winter on record in western Washington (almost 45 inches of rain between October 1st and April 30th – our average, for well over a hundred years of record-keeping, is closer to 35 inches for the entire year), and one of the coldest. There’s no argument that it’s been incredibly depressing as well (and personal reasons have made it even more so for me).
So, when the weather forecasters for this past week noted (with great cheer) that it was supposed to get to and over 70dF on the west side of the mountains for the first time this year on Wednesday and Thursday, and even warmer, with lots of sunshine, on the east side, I thought, you know what? Screw it, I’m going camping.
Of course, when I thought about the east side of the mountains, my first idea was to go back to the Okanogan, which almost feels like home after the time I spent there researching my first two Tales of the Unearthly Northwest. I was also hoping it would nudge me back into writing the third Tale, which has sat there a few chapters in whining at me for longer than I want to think about it, due to those personal reasons I mentioned above. That didn’t really happen, but at least I got to spend some time in the sun, in nature, and to see lots of spring wildflowers.
The first place I went for flowers wasn’t on the way to the Okanogan, not in the region proper. At some point in the past I had picked up a flyer titled Wildflower Areas in the Columbia Basin, and one of them was about ten miles southeast of Wenatchee.
That turned out to be something of an adventure, as the photo of the Rock Island Grade Road will show. At my first sight of it, I thought, oh my gosh, I hope that little dirt road climbing up the side of a canyon isn’t the one they’re talking about, but yes, it was.
It wasn’t the steepest, narrowest road I’ve ever driven, but I think it’s the steepest, narrowest dirt road I’ve ever driven. The recommended place to stop was about two and a half miles up, and the flyer hinted that there was a parking area. Ha. And what it turned out to be was a place for locals to go up and shoot cans, with all of the attendant garbage. That said, it was also literally carpeted with wildflowers. I managed to park Merlin as close to the edge of the road (not, at that point, hanging over the cliff) as I could, in case someone else came by (no one did, thank goodness), got out, and this is what I saw.
After I made my way cautiously back down to the highway, I headed back to Wenatchee, then north along Hwy. 97, which borders the Columbia River. It was getting fairly late in the afternoon by then, so I stopped at Lincoln Rock State Park, the first of three parks with campgrounds north of Wenatchee. I’d never camped there before. All of the sites are within sight of the river, and it was a peaceful, warm evening. I sat out in my lawn chair and just absorbed it all. Unfortunately, the batteries in my camera chose just then to give up the ghost, and apparently I’d forgotten to bring the spares, so I have no photos of that.
And that was my first day east of the mountains this year. More tomorrow.
This is another charity quilt. I’m calling it the critter quilt, and I needed to find a pattern to use that fabric with all the animals without chopping it up too small to tell what they were. This is the result. It’s a single block of the Burgoyne Surrounded pattern.
It’s the last of that batch of charity quilt tops. I have two gift quilt tops layered and ready to be quilted, and I’ve started piecing more charity quilt tops.
I’ve been meaning to post a photo of this for a month or so now.
Back in 1998, I wanted to make my mother a quilt. I “made the mistake” of asking her what kind she wanted, and she asked me for a whole cloth quilt (one made out of a single piece of fabric). Well, back then I’d only been quilting for about ten years, and I had no real idea how to design or make one. All I really knew was that I didn’t want it to be beige or white, as the only whole cloth quilts I’d ever seen by then were.
But I couldn’t find a pre-printed top in anything but beige or white, and I didn’t know where to buy a) fabric wide enough to make a bed-sized quilt out of a single piece of fabric, or b) a bed-sized stencil (I’m still not sure there is such a thing as a bed-sized quilt stencil [wry g]). So I did the best I could with what I could find.
Technically, this is not a whole cloth quilt, because it’s pieced out of 42″ width fabric. I bought a center feather wreath stencil and two border stencils, a lot of blue (her favorite color) fabric, and got to work. I remember that I saw blue fabric in my sleep for weeks after I finished it.
I washed and dried it, and picked off what I thought was all the cat hair, then I took it with me when I made my annual visit that year (we lived 2000 miles apart). The first thing she did after we spread it out on her bed was pick a cat hair off of it. Well, no, that was the second thing. The first thing she did was hug me and tell me how beautiful she thought it was.
My mother died in January of this year, at the age of 92. That quilt decorated her bed for eighteen years, first in her home, and then in the assisted living facility where she spent her last two years. It’s been washed many times, but it’s held up pretty well (the binding’s a bit worn, is all).
And now it’s mine again. I miss her, but I’m so glad she loved this quilt.