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I’m back to being reasonably mobile again after my accident (still not driving myself quite yet, though—just a couple more weeks!)—and coming here was the first thing on my to-do list.
And just like that, the season turns. I don’t know what that Punxsutawney Phil guy thinks he knows, but his predictions rarely apply here. Spring comes early in the Northwest, and yesterday I spied this little harbinger of good things to come. I’ll take the predictions of the trees over any prognosticating rodent.
The sun’s returning in earnest now, too—not just with this batch of unexpected blue skies we’ve had lately, but with noticeably longer days. Everyone here is just a little more cheerful as a result. Suddenly, everywhere are smiles and open windows, as we all breathe in that first hint of fresh spring air.
I’m not the only one who’s housebound today.
Winter finally remembered us, and for the last four days the snow has been swirling.
Today we woke up to a proper blanketing.
So all over town, people are staying home, and watching through their windows—just like I am.
Thank you to everybody who commented, emailed, called, tweeted, sent cards and packages, delivered chocolate, or dropped by to keep me company. Your kindness has been so wonderful, so warming. I’m doing fine, for the most part, and though we don’t have all the answers yet, what we do know is there are no broken bones or anything really scary. I go back to the doc on Friday, and hopefully we’ll have a proper diagnosis then, as well as a plan for what comes next.
Until then, I’m here, waiting in the white.
I love it when a journey is required to bring Christmas home.
Hoping yours is holly-jolly, merry and bright.
The three days Nicole and I spent in Victoria were star-studded with beauty and color, but nothing was quite so breathtaking as the Butchart Gardens, just a few minutes north of the city.
Now a Canadian National Historic Site, the Gardens were the private grounds surrounding the home of Robert and Jennie Butchart. So the place didn’t feel like your average botanical garden or arboretum. There were no exhibit signs, no identifying plaques next to the different flower types, nothing that created the feel of a museum—instead there was the perfect illusion of taking a stroll around the grounds of a palace, or traveling back in time to the days of manor houses and perfectly-maintained estates. Yet this was no exclusive world; the estate is named “Benvenuto” (Italian for “welcome”). The Butcharts welcomed to their home any visitor who wanted to see it, and they were famous for their hospitality. Jennie had reportedly served 18,000 cups of tea to friendly strangers before her family convinced her to charge a nominal admission fee.
It wasn’t hard to see why the visitors came in droves. Nicole wandered off to admire the variety of blooms, but I stood mesmerized by the light.
Usually gardens in the Northwest have a somewhat otherworldly glow, what with our silver skies and rainy mists. But in full sunshine, the place was an absolute riot of color.
I could have spent the whole day just losing myself in the jewel tones all around me.
But Jennie Butchart’s garden is so much more than a flashy display of color: it’s also a staggering feat of environmental design and land reclamation. Jennie was way ahead of her time.
You see, the Butcharts’ land began as a turn-of-the-century limestone quarry, which supplied Robert’s cement company with raw material. When the quarry was exhausted, all that was left was a barren pit. It was Jennie who had the idea to transform an industrial wasteland into a thing of beauty. She had many tons of topsoil brought in by horse and cart, and over the course of several years, she gradually, patiently reclaimed the land and shaped it into a thriving garden.
The result is the stunning Sunken Garden, a masterpiece of earthworks and living sculpture. I was expecting the Queen of Hearts to appear around a bend in the path, a flamingo tucked under each arm. The perfect English garden.
As I continued along the path, suddenly I found myself transported to Versailles—
—and then to Japan.
Lest I lose my bearings, though, reminders that this is the Northwest were ever-present.
Jennie’s garden has evolved far beyond a labor of love. It’s truly a national treasure, and an international curiosity—we heard well over a dozen different languages spoken that day, and struck up conversations with people from five different continents.
Yet despite the flocks of travelers, it was never difficult to find a moment of peaceful, contemplative solitude. I can’t wait to return, and eventually visit Jennie’s garden in every season of the year.
No stay at the Empress is complete without sitting down to Afternoon Tea.
Now, I love a good cuppa no matter where I am, but leaning back in a squashy chair and gazing upward at something like this makes every sip a little more special.
The Empress has been pouring tea every afternoon since it opened in 1908—it was the first venue in Victoria to offer it to the public.
For over a century it’s been one of the city’s biggest tourist draws, but it was easy to forget all about the crowds. Somehow it felt like a quiet, private meal at the home of a dowager aunt. Not normally my, uh, cup of tea, but I loved how unexpectedly cozy it was.
The scones made me miss the Tailor. He would have loved them—and then tried to figure out the recipe.
The savory course was to die for. It was a curious, perfect mix of England (curried chicken, cucumber finger sandwiches) and the Pacific Northwest (best smoked salmon ever). Two months later, I can’t even look at this photo without the memories flooding my taste buds and making me salivate.
The Inner Harbour just outside the window, a good friend across the table, and a seemingly endless array of flavors to hand: the perfect recipe for a relaxing Sunday afternoon.
Yeah, I know. It’s a week before Christmas, and Hanukkah starts tomorrow. Our tree is up, and we even had our mega-huge holiday party last night (62 people—a new record!). But somehow, my mind is occupied with red-gold maples, not flocked evergreens. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone’s lawns are at their greenest at this time of year. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that once these Festivals of Light are over, there’s still a whole lot of actual winter darkness and that Northwestern silver-grey pall to overcome before the sun returns. Whatever it is, I’m not quite ready to let go of autumn yet. So in between the holiday records and the hall-decking, I find myself poring over my fall photos.
Autumn is always my favorite time of year, and this was a particularly good one. We had more sunny days than we have any right to expect in the Northwest, but that’s not the half of it. This was my thirtieth fall, so for me, there just seemed to be a hint of celebration in the air.
And so to start our next decade off with a bang, my friend Nicole (who also turned thirty this fall) and I spent three glorious days in Victoria, British Columbia.
In order to catch the morning ferry to Vancouver Island, we had to leave T-Town at oh-dark-thirty to reach Port Angeles at sunrise.
With view like this as a reward, though, it was hard to complain about the pre-dawn slog.
The tall cups of hot, strong coffee—and knitting!—keeping our hands warm didn’t hurt, either. After a ninety-minute crossing over the Strait—
—and a tight squeeze through the snug Inner Harbour—there we were.
We checked into our hotel,
and then set out to see the sights—those just around the corner,
and a few slightly farther afield.
We couldn’t have asked for better weather for exploring the city,
or better light for showing off its photogenic side.
And whenever our overstimulated brains needed a break from all the grandeur, we could turn our attention to sights both quaint—
—and cute (as a button).
My favorite thing about Victoria, though, was discovering a visual melting pot of Old World and New World,
and of East and West.
When I think of the American West, what usually stands out in my mind are dramatic natural vistas with little or no human presence. So standing on the other side of the border, and seeing an English-style Parliament complex just a stone’s throw from rugged mountains and First-Nations totems was a little jarring at first glance. But then I realized that Victoria isn’t necessarily a city of contrasts, but something else altogether: a blend of all the best parts of the cultures and environments that have come together here. It was both comfortably routine and utterly foreign at the same time.
And I remembered that all my experiences in Canada have been like that: an unexpected twist on something very familiar. Always at hand is the feeling of great adventure in a strange land—and the sense that home is just around the corner.
The last of our guests will be arriving any minute, and then today will be complete.
This year we have visitors who made a thousand-mile trek, bearing gifts of California wine and citrus—as well as callers just a short neighborhood stroll away, wrapped in scarves against the damp chill in the air.
Each friend is a gift, and we raise our glasses to them in gratitude and love.
Wishing you a bountiful table with friends at every place. Happy Thanksgiving.
Who is this, I wonder?
You should see the piles of things, er, occupying (hint!) my drafting table this month. You see, Art at Work month is almost here, and I’m scrambling to get ready for all the events coming down the pike.
First up is Studio Tour, that crazy-amazing weekend where it seems like half of Tacoma (the entirely wonderful half, as it turns out) stops by for a visit. This is my third time on the circuit, but our fair city is celebrating its tenth fabulous year of shop crawls and arts extravaganzas. So stop on by next weekend—you can print your own letterpress keepsake (trust me, they’re über cool this year!), pick up free Tacoma swag (better get here early, because it’ll disappear fast), shop for a whole bunch of brand new art and handmade items, and be the first to catch our brand new Dead Feminist, a mystery maiden indeed.
10th Annual Tacoma Studio Tour
Saturday and Sunday, November 5 and 6
10 am to 4 pm, Free!
For more info, full artist list, maps and directions, see here
Look! New stuff!
If you can’t make it to Studio Tour, you can catch a whole bunch of Tacoma artists at the annual Tacoma is for Lovers Craft Fair, put together by the lovely folks at Indie Tacoma and Tacoma is for Lovers. Jessica and I will be sharing a table both days, and it’ll stuffed to the brim with bunly goodness illustrated and letterpress goodies.
Tacoma is for Lovers Craft Fair
Saturday and Sunday, November 19 and 20
11 am to 4 pm, Free!
King’s Books
218 St. Helens Ave., Tacoma
Last but not least, a gigantic virtual heart-shaped thank you to everyone who made a pledge to fund the Apocalypse Calendar! The project is officially a “go,” and we’ll be on press in November. We’re expecting to ship calendars and Kickstarter rewards in early December, and you’ll find calendars in various retail shops this holiday season. If you missed the Kickstarter project, you’ll be able to place online orders here, starting later this week.
Happy Halloween, and see you in November!
Commencement Bay from the North End, Tacoma, WA
Pumpkin patches, Vancouver Island, BC
First squash haul of the year from Zestful Gardens, Puyallup, WA
Cranberry harvest, Long Beach, WA
Japanese maple, Butchart Gardens, Brentwood Bay, BC
Proctor District in the rain, Tacoma, WA
St. Johns Bridge, Portland, OR
Have I mentioned that I love autumn in the Northwest?