Lighting In The New Year

Day 90: The origami light string is done, and the lights are lit to bring in the new year in festive fashion. This was a fun project! The string holds 20 clear bulbs (a flasher and spares were included) and the kit supplied enough origami paper for 25 balls. Approximately 2/3 of the paper was unpatterned, and the selection of patterned pieces contained both standard origami sheets and some in heavier rice paper. I was pleased to see that the heat generated by the lights was minimal. I left the string on for several hours last night, and the paper never felt overly warm.

I'll Huff And I'll Puff...

Day 89: The origami light string project is nearing completion. Now it's time to blow them up! The ones made using standard origami paper are easiest. A quick puff of breath into the hole at the end and the sides of the balls pop out with a snap. The heavier rice paper ones are a challenge. The paper is "breatheable," like Goretex fabric. They take a bit of tugging at the corners to pull into shape.

I won't be giving the Big Bad Wolf any competition. I've huffed and I've puffed until I've gone dizzy, but I'll have the string done for New Year's!

A Most Unusual Ornament

Day 88: Now 'twould be a pity t' tuck Jack away wi' th' rest o' th' ornaments when I takes down th' tree, but 'tis findin' a place t' 'ang 'im wot's givin' me cause fer concern. Were I t' put 'im above me bed, might be givin' folk wrong ideas. A'ter all, Jacky's young enough t' be me grandson, never ye mind 'is present woeful condition. Nor do 'e fit on me mantlepiece where 'e might be givin' me guests a fright. Ah, Jacky! Ever a problem were ye, so wot place be fittin' t' keep ye outer mischief? Bloody 'ell, I shoulda thunk o' it afore'and! Best place fer ye, me scoundrelly lad, is swingin' frae th' yardarm!

Teensy-Tiny Beaded Corn

Day 87: A few days ago, I posted a photo of a Christmas ornament I had made using #6 seed beads to create a "cob of corn" approximately three inches long (not counting the husks). I mentioned to a friend that I had made similar cobs on a much smaller scale, so here they are with a dime for comparison. The beaded portion is 5/8" in length. They're worked in square stitch over a piece of rolled pigskin leather which also forms the husks. #13 seed beads were used in the construction.

As a very small person, I seem to gravitate toward the "micro" end of the scale with my crafts. I prefer knitting and crocheting with the finer needles and threads, seldom do cross-stitch on anything larger than 18-count canvas. Larger materials feel cumbersome in my hands; working with size 8 or 9 knitting needles and worsted feels like wielding a pair of spars to knit ship's hawser.

While fine yarns and threads are somewhat difficult to find these days, tiny beads are available in a wide selection of colors at my favorite bead store. That said, I normally work with #10 seeds unless I'm in the mood for corn.

Making A Paper Ball

Day 86: You'll find instructions for this origami figure in almost any book or website offering a basic introduction to the art of paper folding, however, what I'm showing you here is just one component of a kit given to me as a Christmas present from my good friend Patty. When I have all the balls folded and inflated, they will be installed along a string of lights, and hopefully, I'll have them done in time for New Year's Eve. Patty was curious how you got from a flat sheet of paper to a cute little ball, so I promised to take pictures of the steps.

First, fold your piece of origami paper on the diagonal (white to the inside). Unfold it, and fold it again along the other diagonal. Lay it out flat. You will see that you have fold lines which intersect in the middle of the paper. Now turn the paper over, and fold it in half across the width of the paper (color to the inside). Only make one fold. Now we'll collapse the figure. Lay the form on the table, colored side up, and push the edges in so that the intersection of fold lines rises as a peak. Flatten it out, and you'll see that you've created the triangular form shown in the second image.

Next take the outer points of the triangle to the center of the peak and crease the folds on one side of the form. Do the same for the opposite side. You now have a square. Fold the side points in to meet at the center (bottom of the third image) and crease them well. For simplicity's sake, the images from here on only show the fold on one side of the figure. Repeat the identical folds on the opposite side of the form.

In the first of the middle row of images, you can see the points folded in during the last step. Above them, you will fold down the top points to make a crease. The top points should be returned to their previous position after creasing. Now following the second image, fold the tips of the points down to meet the center junction. The third move in this series is a little tricky. Those points must be inserted into the little "pockets" in the side folds. It helps if you curl them slightly with a thumbnail. Once you have them seated in the pockets, be sure they are well creased. Your form will look like the first figure in the bottom row.

To inflate the ball, open it out as shown in the center bottom photo. At one end, there will be a small hole where the paper edges meet. Put it up to your lips and give a quick, firm blow. The ball should puff out into its inflated shape! Have a ball making your own origami light string!

Temari

Day 85: The first time it happened, I was humiliated to tears. I was attending a Tupperware party at a neighbor's, joining in conversation several women previously unknown to me. The subject matter of our chatting was varied, as you might expect and reclusive as I normally am, I felt I was doing the socially proper thing by adding my two cents' worth where it might be of value. One of the ladies happened to mention that she was laying new linoleum in her bathroom but was having difficulty fitting it around the base of the toilet. Having done some home repair in that line, I suggested that she purchase a template-making tool, a comb-like device which can be pushed against an object, the teeth retracting in such a manner that an outline of the item is obtained. I expected her to ask me if I knew where she could get one. She did not. Her mouth hardened and she said sharply, "Isn't there anything you don't know something about?" I could have died of shame in that moment. Instead, I retreated to a corner and said nothing more for the duration of the party.

Several years ago, when one of my sisters-of-the-heart came to visit me for the first time, I was showing her various craft items I'd created, including some greeting cards embellished with ribbon. The template episode resurfaced when she said, "I suppose you made the paper, too." However, by this point in my life, I had become so accustomed to remarks of that sort that I responded, "Um, yeah...as a matter of fact, I did."

A day or so ago, the subject of Temari came up when another friend posted a picture. Without thinking about it, I said, "Oh, temari! Somewhere around here, I have a bunch I made years ago."

My friend's response was predictable: "Of course you have done this." My foot had found my mouth again.

I have to tell you that I still cringe when "Isn't there anything you don't know something about?" comes back to haunt me in some form or another. The alternative course of action is to learn to keep my big mouth shut (something I've tried to do with very little success). I've lived a long life, and I've done a lot of interesting things despite the fact that I'd tell you I've found it rather boring. My passion for crafts was instilled in me by a grandmother who taught me that my hands should never be idle, and as my friends would tell you, my craving for new adventures still runs strongly indeed. I love to learn and I love to create, and perhaps to my undoing, I love to teach. Therein lies the problem. I can't make myself bite off the words which might open an avenue to instruct. I'm not an insufferable know-it-all looking to be the center of attention. I simply want to inspire others to explore and learn.

Temari originated in China but is best known as a Japanese art form. The balls are created by wrapping layer upon layer upon layer of thread or fabric strips in precise patterns. These temari were made using sewing thread and perle cotton.

Seasonal Greetings

Day 84: Merry Christmas, everyone! This photo was taken on my Christmas Eve Day walk up Mount Rainier National Park's Westside Road and shows snow-covered Mt. Ararat, so named because early explorers purportedly found wooden timbers on its summit. Ararat is to the southwest of Indian Henrys Hunting Ground which in summer is one of the Mountain's most beautiful wildflower meadows. The trail to Indian Henrys from this side was badly damaged during a flood some years ago and was never reconstructed. It is currently listed as an "unmaintained" trail, and the washed-out sections often present navigational challenges, particularly if Tahoma Creek is running high.

A Visit To Secret Falls

Day 83: You won't find Secret Falls on the map. In fact, it's not named on the 7.5' topo for the area. It's only about thirty feet off the road, but it's set so deeply in a cleft that you'd never know it was there unless you got curious about its small stream. The creek is intermittent. It runs down to a trickle in the autumn, or sometimes dries up completely. It's only in the wintertime that it flows in full spate.

I've come here many times on snowshoes to find it iced up and glorious. Today, the snow was heavily crusted and snowshoes were unnecessary. For once, I thought to bring the tripod, but even so, the exposure was a nightmare. In hindsight, I wish I'd carried a graduated neutral-density filter. With bright sun streaming down on the upper portion of the falls and the lower portion in deep shadow, a few burned-out highlights were the trade-off for being able to see my face. Even so, I had to tone-map the image heavily and pull up the shadows substantially.

Yes, today Santa and his sack of goodies were upstaged by Ma Nature's gift of good weather. It was a chilly hike, but I put in seven miles as a warm-up to the winter Fitness Challenge between participating National Parks. I'm on the Interpretive team and am required to put in no less than 100 miles between January 7 and March 30. I hope to double that and then some! Too bad today doesn't count...

A Little Birdseed, Please

Day 82: As you're hurrying about with the fixings of your Christmas dinner and trays of cookies, please don't forget to put out seed for the little "people" in your yard. Fill your feeders with black-oil sunflower seed, nyjer and mixed seed, and put out suet blocks if the birds in your area enjoy them. Provide water if temperatures stay below freezing for any length of time.

Many birds enjoy corn, and this little fellow is no exception. I crafted his corn cob using #6 seed beads in square stitch, applied over a rolled felt core. The husks are raffia. Several of his kin have taken up residence in my Christmas tree.

Putting The Cat To Watch The Canary

Day 81: As part of our "Twelve Days of Christmas," my sister-of-the-heart Alison nearly always includes a few marbles for me, knowing how I love to add to my collection. This year, she sent them under heavy guard in person of Little Baby Raven. Oh, dear! Isn't that kinda like putting the cat to watch the canary? With the penchant corvids have for collecting shiny things, I wonder if the present inventory truly reflects the number originally mailed. Look at the gleam in that beady little eye!

Solstice Greetings

Day 80: As a creature of the seasonal calendar, I celebrate festivals of a different sort: the Solstices and Equinoxes, the appearance of Pussywillows, the First Day of Skunk Cabbage and of course September Morn. Many do not have a set date, a fact which lends them an element of surprise lacking in traditional observances. Wild Ginger comes when it will, on a schedule all its own, and the Grosbeaks arrive on a timetable so complex that the human mind cannot hope to understand it. There are, however, those milestones in the year which occur at a specific second, if on a rotation of days, and none is more significant than Winter Solstice. Winter Solstice brings renewal in character of Light. Imperceptible at first, within ten days or two weeks, the lengthening of daylight is noticeable to anyone attuned to the progression of the seasons. By mid-January, it is apparent to all but the dullest eye.

For many people, Solstice may be associated with a physical element, whether man-made (Stonehenge, for example) or natural. From my vantage point, the Solstice Moon rises behind Mount Rainier, a perfectly magical conjuncture should the weather permit it to be seen.

Celebrate with me the Returning of the Light!
Dance the holly,
Dance the mistletoe!
The Light is now returning
And dark nights quickly go.

'Tis The Season To Be Puzzling

Day 79: Snow, rain, wind, and cold mean it's time to break out the jigsaw puzzles. I only work on them in the wintertime, but I do the same ones year after year after year. Sometimes I make it through the whole stack (about two dozen). Other times, I'll only put together two or three before some other project takes my fancy. My preference is for 1000-piece puzzles, and although I generally choose those which look the most challenging insofar as color palette is concerned, this montage of old-fashioned seed packets is one of my favorites. Hmmm...this conversion to a sepiatone photograph looks like it would make a pretty good puzzle, too. Puzzle within a puzzle! Now that's something I haven't seen on a store shelf.

Brocade

Day 78: I've never won anything at a lottery, never got a prize at Bingo, and if there are 60 attendees at an event and a door prize for each one, my name will invariably be the last one called. I don't have bad luck. I simply don't have any luck at all. That said, I do know some tricks to work a silent auction, and therefore was able to score the one item I coveted when it was offered at the Park Christmas party. This sumptuous piece of heavy Thai brocade (fiber content unknown) is a shawl approximately 44" x 80", and was begging to be part of Capt. Morgan Corbye's wardrobe. I managed to walk away with it for a mere $12. As her official biographer, it would have been unseemly for me to have failed to present the Captain with a gift. Even pirates enjoy Christmas.

Real Ribbon

Day 77: In amongst the bows and sparkle, there is one piece of real ribbon...real ribbon candy, that is! I haven't seen good ribbon since my childhood, not the wafer-thin, fragile stuff, but a selection showed up at the Park Christmas party last night, and I pocketed a piece to bring home. Just one, mind you, and a small one at that. I didn't want to be a hog.

The modern version of this old-fashioned confection is generally thick as a board and hard as a rock. Good ribbon should be fragile and delicate, and it should melt away in your mouth in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Good ribbon should shatter if dropped (don't drop it!), and it should shine. Pepperminty, colorful, shimmery and translucent, this ribbon was all that and more. But better still, it was filled with something not a part of the recipe: memories, and they left the sweetest taste of all.

Journey Journals

Day 76: There are many adventures in these pages of trail notes, although they only cover two decades of hiking. The texts are often too personal to permit access to other readers, and the art...well, let's just say that my talents lie in other fields. The penmanship is appalling, but when you take into consideration my normal penchant for unreadable notes-to-self and add in writing by flashlight with frozen fingers, some of it requires extreme effort even on my part to decipher.

Singly, these journals are widely travelled, at least in my definition of the phrase. You'll find a climb of Mt. Shasta in one, obscure geysers in Yellowstone National Park in another, and the deep backcountry of the Olympic Mountains in a third. For the most part, though, they chronicle a repetition of footfalls, thousands of miles...thousands, I say...walked within a stone's throw of home.

If the art is poor, it is good enough to jog the memory. The outline of a rock, the silhouette of a tree, the rise and fall of a ridgeline horizon...these have been executed with attention to detail. The sharp spires of the Tatooshes are recognizable, if not their faces, and the planes of fractured stone and sweep of a branch allow me to say, "That's the rock at the end of Switchback 3," and "Ah, this was that trip to Indian Bar when I saw the bear damage."

That said, as I grew older and the distances to destinations seemed to turn longer and harder, my time for sitting down to sketch and write shortened accordingly. I found myself making notes at home after a trip was done, even though I'd carried the current journal with me in my pack. It felt like cheating, that, so I abandoned writing in favour of arriving at my goal. Thus "A Wildwood Journal" ends as it began, not at any particular point in my backcountry career, nor upon the occasion of a particular event, simply as the rambles of restless feet and a spirit bent on adventure.

Crow Tree

Day 75: From their vantage point in the Crow Tree, the Breakfast Bunch can watch for activity at any of four locations where they might expect to find food spread for their enjoyment. Of the four, the most reliable spot is my "crow board" where daily handouts of dry dog food and table scraps are provided near dawn. As soon as they hear the door slide back or see me in the yard, the cawing commences, and before I'm back inside, they've gathered like a flurry of black snowflakes on the board, the fence and the ground. In between their scrabblings to gather beaksful of kibble, the Steller's Jays steal a few bites, but there's plenty to go around. No bird ever went hungry begging at my "table!"

Lights Of Christmas Past

Day 74: It's been over half a century since these lights were lit. The wiring for them is long gone, and the bases don't fit any modern socket. The paint is scratched and peeling, and I'm not even certain that some of them aren't burned out, but they are memorabilia from my childhood and I hang onto them for no reason except simple, silly nostalgia.

The bubble lights had their own tree, and when the white paper (yes, paper!) needles yellowed with age, my mother tried to salvage it with a can of flocking spray with disastrous results. I retrieved the poor thing from the trash heap, stripped it of the mess and stored the metal frame until such time as I could re-wire it and re-cover it with artificial greens. The modern bubble lights it holds today are larger by half than the old ones shown here.

I was surprised to find among the lights two plastic snowflakes to add to the seven others I've used on my tree every year of my adult life. How they came to be separated from their fellows is anyone's guess. As I recall, the set originally held ten, and I remember clearly breaking the hanging hook off one of them while I was still very young.

Functional or not, I'm sure these antiques have some worth as collectors' items, but it could not possibly match their sentimental value, and the memories of old-fashioned Christmases Past.

A Package Full Of Starlight

Day 73: Little Pik-pik is wondering where to hide the gift he picked out for his mother. He knows she likes to sit in the top branches of the tree, but he's thinking he might be able to tuck it in against the trunk where she'd never think to look. The only problem is that it's sparkly, but that was why he got it for her. How do you hide a package full of starlight? Why, you hang it among the stars, of course! Fly, Pik-pik! But don't drop it!

Alpine Topper

Day 72: With Christmas crafting behind me, I took advantage of the last two days to knit myself a "head cozy" to keep myself warm while I'm out snowshoeing this winter. The Fair Isle construction of the "Alpine Topper" creates its own lining. In this instance, I've used wool/mohair roving (single ply) in shaded greens for the body of the hat and a softer, loftier rust-orange Merino "chain" yarn for the contrasting color. The Merino is carried on the back of the work, and is oh-so-soft against the ears! Even when wet, wool retains its insulating capability, so it's the perfect fiber for Pacific Northwest outdoor wear.

Going On The Block

Day 71: Someone is going to have warm tootsies on Christmas morning! Our Park Christmas party includes a silent auction, and I've crafted these two pair of 100% wool hiking socks specifically for the occasion.

Knitting socks is not as challenging as it sounds, and can be very addictive once you've mastered the technique of turning the heel. I prefer to work the full length of the cuff in k2, p2 rib. It helps to keep the socks from bunching up around the wearer's ankles. For hikers, I keep the foot plain. Cables or other fancy stitches tend to become uncomfortable in firmly laced boots. Save the decorative stitches for lighter weight yarns and socks you intend to be seen!

Morning, Noon And Night

Day 70: Morning, noon and night, the Mountain anchors me. Hidden or seen, there is not a moment that the Presence is not felt. I moved away once, foolish and young as I was, and did not comprehend what had gone missing in my life until I returned to the state some few years later. There, dominating the horizon as always, was the Being whose legends and lore were central to my upbringing, welcoming me home.

These three photos (all shot today) show the Mountain in one of its more consistent moods, something of a rarity especially in light of the lenticular cloud formations over the summit. The first, taken from the pasture opposite my home, was shot at dawn. The second image presents the view from the Community Building in Longmire (Mount Rainier National Park). The third capture is from the bridge over Kautz Creek (also in Mount Rainier National Park) and was taken on my way home from work.

Divisions On A Ground

Day 69: There were six of us, just enough that the more experienced musicians could carry those who were less adept at recorder, and we played a range of instruments from tenor to sopranino. Bruce wanted a bass, but our stringent budget wouldn't allow. Oh, but of the lot of us, he deserved one! Bruce was without a doubt the most proficient player among us and surprisingly, he was the only member of our group who couldn't read a note of music, committing to memory his part as I played it for him or improvising his own accompaniments. We called ourselves "The CPR Consort," a joking reference to the Cheap Plastic Recorders our troupe carried while strolling through neighborhoods of Olympia, wandering minstrels spreading Christmas cheer. The better wooden instruments were reserved for indoor performance, unsuited for use in the cold and moist winter conditions of the Pacific Northwest. Under my direction, we played at malls, at hospitals and at retirement homes, and the same six of us (give or take the occasional member) doubled as "The Dozemary Singers," costumed in period dress to present an a capella selection of lesser-known mediaeval Christmas songs.

It seems to me that those were simpler times. Carolers could wander the streets without fear of being pelted with snowballs, rocks or being taunted or mugged. It was considered rude for performers to ask for payment, but if a homeowner offered you hot cider or cookies, you accepted them with a gracious "thank you" and rewarded his kindness with another piece. You sang or played for the joy of making music, for raising the spirits of your listeners, for the feeling of community and good will engendered by giving of your talent. When your music was made manifest by mist rising before your face or curling like smoke from the recorder, when your fingers grew creaky with the cold and your tremolos were unintentional, you nevertheless found it hard to say, "Enough, I want to go somewhere warm."

To my way of thinking, today's world could use some old-fashioned "CPR" to put the warmth back in Christmas, to give it heart.

G Is For Garland

Day 68: Why didn't I see that coming? Anyone who knows me even half well could have predicted what would go wrong with my plan to put up the Christmas tree today and decorate it tomorrow. I mean, think who we're talking about here. I had brought the tree in from the garage this morning to warm up (even artificial branches are creaky when they're frozen) and then I made a dash out to do errands. After I'd got the groceries put away, I built the tree. That should have been the end of it right there, but no, I dragged out the ornament boxes and told myself, "I'll just put on the garland and mount the cardinal on the top." But as long as I was climbing on and off a chair to string the garland, it made sense to hang the small ornaments as well. And as long as I had that box open, it seemed silly to close it back up again half-full, and by the time I got that done, I was too deeply committed to stop. I finished just in time to make dinner. Yeah, shoulda seen that coming!

Birdie Berries

Day 67: English Holly is considered an invasive species in much or all of western Washington, so although I normally would not cut greens from a living tree to use as decoration, when a Holly made itself available to me at the roadside, I decided to take measures to reduce its spread, if only in a very small way. Assuredly, I would be a poor host to Pik-pik and his mom, wintering on my mantel, unless I provided some fruit for their diet. Pik-pik began begging immediately, little wings spread and his beak turned up to his mother as if to say, "Can't you thaw them out any faster?" Like any youngster, he loves his sweets, but we all know what happens when you eat too many berries. That's one way English Holly spreads, after all.

Flying Fingers

Day 66: Busy, busy, busy! Making socks has renewed my interest in knitting, a hobby I'd laid aside for a number of years in favour of crochet, hardanger and counted cross-stitch. When you pursue any craft on a regular basis, it tends to go stale at some point, and I'd become bored with Fair Isle, Aran and four-needle projects, regardless of the challenges they presented. With my mind on other things, I forgot how much I truly enjoyed knitting; listening to the clack of the needles, feeling the yarn slide over my fingers, watching the garment grow beneath my hands. After making a couple of pair of lightweight socks using wool blended with rayon made from bamboo, I decided I needed some heavy-weight wool "hikers." Knitting continental style ("picking" with the yarn held by the left hand), the work goes very quickly. With my sock drawer full now, I'll be donating several pair to the Park's Christmas party silent auction.

St. Nicholas' Day Greetings!

Day 65: St. Nicholas' Day was a significant event in our household when I was growing up, a foretaste of Christmas for a little girl who was trying (but not always succeeding) at being good as gold in anticipation of a visit from Santa Claus. I was too young to understand the permutations which had carried the good saint from holy man to roly-poly man, although I felt instinctively that there was some connection between the two. On one hand, Santa was a jovial and grandfatherly sort who inspired affection, while on the other, St. Nicholas was someone for whom I felt a deep respect and perhaps a little awe. You could cozy up to Santa and sit on his knee, but you would have approached Nicholas with deference and might have dropped a curtsey as you offered him your hand.

Both of these figures brought gifts. Santa had his big bag full of toys, but St. Nicholas brought candy. Santa came down the chimney at midnight when I was fast asleep. Nicholas was bolder. He came between the evening meal and bedtime, arriving and departing in clandestine haste. He seemed to show up at the moment when I least expected him, when for a second my anticipation lapsed and I was engaged by something else. I was convinced that he could read my thoughts, an ability I attributed to Santa in a much smaller degree. When my attention wandered (and what child's doesn't?), a sudden THUMP would bring me out of my reverie and send me scampering for the door, and whether front door or back was not predictable, subject to the saint's whim. There, I would find a bag of candy, but never for all the times I looked did I see footprints in the snow.

Treasure in hand, I would then rejoin my mother where she sat reading. "Look at what St. Nicholas brought me!" I'd exclaim. And when my father came back in the room, having excused himself earlier to work on a project or visit the bathroom, I would share with my parents the brightly colored ribbon candy the good saint had delivered, none the wiser until my dad passed away.

Baking Day

Day 64: Is there a more homey fragrance than that of baked goods hot from the oven? The aromas of buttery spritz cookies and nutty "birdseed bread" fill my house on this cold December day. I got a little ahead of myself with this project. I don't usually start baking until St. Nicholas' Day, but the chill in the weather wanted something to cut through its bite, if only psychologically.

To my way of thinking, baking is a spiritually uplifting occupation. It is impossible to be downhearted when creating cookies, or dismal when handling bread dough. The golden warmth of crust and crumb brighten the kitchen and the soul. When the garden lacks gaily colored flowers, let the sideboard bloom with plates of spritz dipped in crystal sugar, festive and bright, and don't let Jack Frost put a damper on your cheer!

Christmas Portrait Time

Day 63: Pets of any sort are a challenge for the photographer, but cats are especially difficult. They don't like to be posed. They don't like to have the camera's eye staring at them. They don't hold still. And they especially don't like to be draped in fabric. Fortunately, I have two Very Good Kitties who know that their mama isn't going to do anything mean to them, all evidence to the contrary. Tip (left) was hard to convince. If I'd given any real thought to it, I would have trimmed his toenails after the photo session, but because I hadn't really been planning the shoot, I'd done it only seconds before. It took me five minutes to convince him that the fabric wasn't some new cat-torture device, and when I was finally satisfied with his comfort level, I backed away for a zoomed-in shot. Skunk (right) presented an entirely different problem. I'd waked her up from a sound sleep. While I arranged the cloth around her, she burrowed her head down in the folds and resumed her nap. Getting her to look up wasn't easy. She's deaf, so noise-making had no effect at all. I had to toss something just lightly enough to bump the chair but not so hard that it upset her, and once I'd got her to raise her eyes, I waved a second piece of fabric to keep her attention as I triggered the shutter with my free hand. Tip's portrait was taken at 0.4 sec shutter speed, Skunk's at 1/6 sec. That's a long time to hold still when you're a cat!

The Wish Book

Day 62: Oh, the Wish Book came in today's mail and I sat down immediately to start planning out next year's garden, visions of Gazanias, Zinnias and Cosmos dancing in my head. I love the Wish Book! It's full of dreams, full of hope, full of color and life and zest. It brightens December's gloom in a manner so undeniable that it turns every reader into a Master Gardener, at least in the visions of immaculate flowers and lush fields of vegetables it generates. Realistically, I don't have space to dedicate a bedroom to plant racks and light arrays, and I know many of my eventual efforts will be thwarted by ravaging deer and elk, but as long as I can dream, I might as well dream big. If the raised beds never happen, it won't be for lack of wishing.

Walking On The Winter Wonderland

Day 61: "Rangers sing! Are you listenin'?
On the trail, snow is glistenin'.
A beautiful day
To go out and play!
Walking on the Winter Wonderland!

Put away are the sandals.
Here we use poles with handles.
We like to snowshoe
Like Eskimos do,
Walking on the Winter Wonderland!"

I had only to step outside the office to be in/on a/the Winter Wonderland. The 93-mile Wonderland Trail encircles Mount Rainier, sometimes rising over 6000' in elevation. Hikers may encounter snow into August on the higher reaches. While many backpackers take the WT in sections over a period of months or even years, others hike it in one gulp, carefully planning their camps and food supplies with the exactitude of expeditioneers. I know. I've hiked it twice, once with my husband and once alone. But not...I repeat, NOT!...the Winter Wonderland.

Guests And Gifts

Day 60: Friends came to visit yesterday (something of a rarity in my world), bringing with them a hearty lunch and baklava. Baklava! Is there anything tastier? Paper-thin phyllo leaves slathered with butter, a filling of chopped pecans and spices, the whole confection drenched in honey, baklava is sticky, rich, crisp, chewy, and sinfully delicious. With another member of the family at home, they did not leave me with the whole tray, but knowing how much I love this exquisite dessert pastry, they gave me a full selection which will be carefully rationed over several days. Thank you, Suzie and Ceilidh!