16 Sept: a party of readers

Sunday, 16 September 2018

Sarah of the hilltop cottage had invited us to a party given by friends and former neighbours of hers.  We knew it would be pleasant to visit anyone she likes, so despite my usual non-party mode, we decided to go.

I went into our garden to pick some flowers.  My Lumix pocketcam is doing the oddest thing and randomly taking photos on its own when it is turned on.  So it got this:

Frosty went right with me.

It is not set on burst or multiple photos…such a mystery.  Click, click, utterly randomly timed click.

We’d had this much rain since yesterday:

a substantial amount, somewhat of a muddled rain gauge with weeds and buckets

I went into the greenhouse to pick some tomatoes on my last plant and had to move a spider to get in.  She had started her web again by the time I had the tomatoes picked.

upper right-ish, creating a web in the doorway

I am always in a rush when going out and I don’t pick a good backdrop for a bouquet photo.

Sanguisorbas ‘Korean Snow’ and ‘Pink Elephant’ are the stars.

And off we went.

The sign at the party location had a meaning that went right over my head.

As soon as we arrived at the little brown cottage where the party was held, Sarah appeared and also someone I fell in love with immediately: Bismarck, a huge and adorable Newfoundland.

Sarah, me, Bismarck and Mabel. (Marty’s photo)

Allan’s photo

A random camera click caught our host, Marty, in a welcoming pose.

There was also a kitty.

And another sweet dog, Lefty, so named because that is the paw she lifts to shake.

Lefty

I was smitten with the little pond by the garage.  It is made from a swoopy shaped plastic pond just like the one I gave away because I could not figure out how to make it look natural.

I clearly did not try hard enough.

near the pond

Our hosts Marty and Bob had provided delicious burgers and sides for party food.  Because the weather had been predicted to be rainy, we dined at two tables in the tropically decorated garage with the big door open.

Allan’s photo

Allan’s photo

Bismarck and Bob

I learned that Bismarck is ten and has been part of the household since a few months old.

Allan’s photo

Bismarck’s post-lunch nap

Allan’s photo, me being the life of the party (not)

During after-lunch chatter, I learned that several guests were Sherlock Holmesians and had been attending a Holmes convention in Astoria, had walked around Astoria in costume and that the Andaman Island Resort sign refers to a Holmes story, The Sign of the Four.

I have to confess that I never managed to read all of Conan Doyle’s Holmes stories.  I have loved various incarnation of Holmes on telly, my favourite being Jeremy Brett.

And Tom Baker, my favourite Doctor.

After some literary conversation (with me just listening), I went out to take a turn around the garden.

in a cottage window

Bob likes trees.

In the back yard, Bob built an impressive walkway and stairs going down the steep hill.

Allan’s photo

My nutty camera caught my hesitation.

a pond in progress at the lower level

Bob’s plan is to have a waterfall going down next to the stairs.

road to the beach

The beach is just down there.

I returned to the party and Allan set off to see the boardwalk and stairs. He was impressed with the construction

Allan’s photo

Allan’s photo

During the talk about costuming and Sherlock Holmes, we had been shown a whole shelf of boxes labeled “costumes”.  I had a feeling that Marty and Bob might enjoy Halloween in Ilwaco so invited them to our second annual party, hosted by Tony and Scott at our house, saying they would not have to dress in costume.  Marty’s funny response was something like try to KEEP her from dressing up in a costume.  I do hope they come.

On the way home, we drove by the port gardens so I could assess their condition.  A new sailboat had appeared in the boatyard, perfect for sailing off to Andaman Island.

For the rest of the day, I journeyed into the past with the third memoir/garden book by Marion Cran, The Story of My Ruin.

Marion on creativity in the garden (written in 1924; she knew plenty of women gardeners):