Posts Tagged ‘politics’

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

This morning, Allan found Skooter sleeping in the bathroom sink.

Anchorage Cottages

We began the work day with our weekly visit to Anchorage Cottages.

greeted by my good friend Mitzu.

Allan gave the viburnum in the center courtyard a flat top.

Allan’s photo

center courtyard

SorryNotSorry, daisy snobs; I decided to put in two clumps of shasta daisies on either side of Crocosmia in this messy little bed.  To be done later this fall.

window boxes from inside (Allan’s photo)

Allan’s photo

I think the verticality is important, and yet we hear that the Salvia is making the windows harder to open and close.

Office courtyard with Beth on the phone taking care of business.

office courtyard sweet peas

Long Beach

While driving the main street on the way to the Anchorage, we had been pleased to see the planters had not been sat upon too terribly much during Rod Run.  This was especially good because we read later that the drivers downtown had gotten rather rowdy at times.  Excerpts from an article in the Chinook Observer:

The event resulted in one police chase and one rollover wreck, and some police officers said the atmosphere seemed a bit rowdier this year. But aside from those incidents, the Rod Run was safe and successful, authorities said.

And: “As they pulled through the intersection of Pacific and Bolstad at sunset, one Jeep-driver peeled out, and jerked backwards, slamming on his brakes just as he was about to hit his buddy’s Jeep. On each pass through downtown, they revved their engines, surging forward and screeching to a stop again and again. Some observers cheered, others looked seriously annoyed.

And “Early in the evening, a visiting officer from Castle Rock noticed a man in a black truck talking on his cell phone as he drove through downtown. When he signaled the man to pull over, “The guy dropped the cell phone, turned and took off. He went to Ocean Beach Boulevard,” Washington State Patrol Sgt. Brad Moon said. “The driver was headed north, accelerating to the point where he lost control of the vehicle.” Near Bolstad Avenue, the man crashed into a white SUV and jumped the curb, nearly hitting a woman in a wheelchair.

Officers from several agencies arrested him at gunpoint. Tests later revealed the man had a blood-alcohol level of 0.26, well over the legal limit of 0.08, Moon said.”

Memories of when the event used to be on Labor Day Weekend: “Fifteen years ago…. State Patrol would send as many as 40 troopers to help out, and they’d arrest 40 to 60 drunks over the weekend. For the last few years, they’ve arrested four to six people drunk drivers each year. This year, there were three DUIs….”

chairs left over from Rod Run (Allan’s photo)

Our new method of discouraging sitting by leaving as much foliage as possible, tatty or not, hanging over the edge, seems to have worked.  Today, it was satisfying to tidy the planters up.

lots of candy wrappers from candy tossed from cars (Allan’s photo)

Herb N Legend Smoke Shop, before

and after

I took the wheelbarrow all through town and filled it to the brim twice.  With tourist season officially over, I had room on the sidewalk to maneuver my wheelbarrow through town. Allan watered the trees and  three blocks worth of planters, more than usual for him on Tree Watering Day, because all my clipping slowed me down.

The classic Long Beach frying pan photo

Fifth Street Park and Captain Bob’s Chowder

Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ was abuzz with insects. Some looked sort of unfriendly.

Our friends Captain Bob and Cathy had left their café to go on a celebratory vacation.

Geranium ‘Rozanne’ was the plant that created the most wheelbarrow debris.

Third Street Park planter, before

and after (not exactly gorgeous. I know.)

I thought Allan had gotten way ahead of me and was pleased to see him still behind me, under the Elks sign, working on the two north blocks.

looking north at Bolstad and Pacific; Allan in yellow vest under the Elks sign.

He caught up and passed me, going south, within a block, which is when I asked him to also water the planters on the southernmost block.

by Cottage Bakery, somewhat sat upon but not bad at all

My lovely Othonna cheirifolia was unscathed.

While watering a street tree, Allan found part of a cigar, which he put into his debris bucket, of course.

A man emerged from a restaurant and mournfully said, “You got my cigar wet!”  Allan fished it out of the bucket and said, “It isn’t clean,” and the man took it and and walked off with it in his mouth.

a tree garden that did get very much stood upon (Allan’s photo).  This is also the one that needs to be bucket watered because the faucet does not work.

Allan’s photo

more candy wrappers (Allan’s photo)

Geranium ‘Rozanne’ and bidens (Allan’s photo)

in the Heron Pond (Allan’s photo)

While I was watering and clipping the carousel planter, a man stopped close to me and asked, “If I give you my address, will you come do my garden?”  We hear this a lot; I gave my usual jolly reply of, “After I do MY garden!”  Then he said he would pay $35 an hour, and I said, “That is tempting; we don’t make that here. Where do you live?”  “Longview,” he replied, “and my gardener makes $35 an hour, and sometimes $42 depending on what sort of gardening she is doing.”  I said that the big city does pay better.  He then asked, “What are you having for dinner?”  “I don’t know,” said I, “I don’t do the cooking.”  At that point, he tried to hand me $20, saying, “This is to get yourself something good for dinner.”  I demurred and told him he should to give it to someone who truly needed it.  He insisted, I refused, he graciously accepted my refusal and walked on.  As he walked away, I called out “You are a very nice guy!”

I later thought that I could have said I would take it to add to my contribution for the October rent for one of the families whose wage earner has been taken away by ICE (immigration enforcement, which is targeting hardworking undocumented long time community members here).  That probably would have involved more words than I could have managed to muster while watering.  See the end of this blog post for some facts about undocumented immigrants.

I continued walking south till Allan and I met up on the last block.

one of the better street tree pocket gardens, watered once a week

I had forgotten to put a bandaid on my little toe, which began to scream two blocks before I was done, leading to my removing my special shoe insert, followed by a sigh of relief from my little toe and a screech of protest from my sore heel.


When we got home, Allan went back out to water the Ilwaco street trees and planters, while I sat and read the news.  He had made me a fine cup of Builder’s Tea.


That gave me the strength to rise again and empty the work trailer of the two wheelbarrow loads of good non weedy clippings, a good addition to my compost bins.  I did not muster the energy to hobble back to the bogsy woods and haul out yesterday’s pile of cut salmonberry trunks and branches.

Thus ends today’s blog post.  Read on, if you like, for some information about immigrants, a subject that is much on my mind because of the way that beloved local people are being taken by ICE.

Here, from the Stories from this week’s installment of the Stories from the Heart series by Sydney Stevens, are some facts about immigration.  How does it connect with us? A bit of our gardening income right now is going to help these local families deal with the sudden crackdown instigated by the new national administration.

A Fact-Checker Speaks (by Sydney Stevens)

Falsehood # 1: They don’t pay taxes

Undocumented immigrants do, indeed, pay taxes. Like everyone else in the United States, they pay sales taxes. They also pay property taxes — even if they rent. As a report from the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy (ITEP) points out, “the best evidence suggests that at least 50 percent of undocumented immigrant households currently file income tax returns using Individual Tax Identification Numbers (ITINs), and many who do not file income tax returns still have taxes deducted from their paychecks.”

Currently, in Washington State, undocumented immigrants pay an estimated $316,624,000 in state and local taxes.

Falsehood #2: They don’t pay into Social Security

According to the Social Security Administration (SSA), unauthorized immigrants — who are not eligible to receive Social Security benefits — have paid an eye-popping $100 billion into the fund over the past decade.

“They are paying an estimated $15 billion a year into Social Security with no intention of ever collecting benefits,” according to Stephen Goss, chief actuary of the SSA. “Without the estimated 3.1 million undocumented immigrants paying into the system, Social Security would have entered persistent shortfall of tax revenue to cover payouts starting in 2009,” he said. “As the baby boom generation ages and retires, immigrant workers are key to shoring up Social Security and counteracting the effects of the decline in U.S.-born workers paying into the system.” (An article in the Atlantic explains more about this, including “We estimate that earnings by unauthorized immigrants result in a net positive effect on Social Security financial status generally, and that this effect contributed roughly $12 billion to the cash flow of the program for 2010″.)

Falsehood #3: They drain the system.

Undocumented immigrants do not qualify for welfare, food stamps, Medicaid, and most other public benefits. Most of these programs require proof of legal immigration status and under the 1996 welfare law, even legal immigrants cannot receive these benefits until they have been in the United States for more than five years.

A Congressional Budget Office report on the Comprehensive Immigration Reform Act of 2007 concluded that a path to legalization for immigrants would increase federal revenues by $48 billion. Such a plan would see $23 billion in increased costs from the use of public services, but ultimately, it would produce a surplus of $25 billion for government coffers, CBO said

Falsehood #4: They take American jobs.

Removing the approximately 8 million unauthorized workers in the United States would not automatically create 8 million job openings for unemployed Americans, said Daniel Griswold, director of the Cato Institute’s Center for Trade Policy Studies, in his 2011 testimony before the House Judiciary Sub-committee on Immigration Policy and Enforcement.

The reason, is two-fold. For one, removing millions of undocumented workers from the economy would also remove millions of entrepreneurs, consumers and taxpayers. The economy would actually lose jobs. Second, native-born workers and immigrant workers tend to possess different skills that often complement one another.

According to Griswold, immigrants, regardless of status, fill the growing gap between expanding low-skilled jobs and the shrinking pool of native-born Americans who are willing to take such jobs. By facilitating the growth of such sectors as retail, agriculture, landscaping, restaurants, and hotels, low-skilled immigrants have enabled those sectors to expand, attract investment, and create middle-class jobs in management, design and engineering, bookkeeping, marketing and other areas that employ U.S. citizens.

Falsehood #5: It’s just a matter of following the law.

Under current immigration laws, there are very few options for legal immigration, the costs are increasingly prohibitive and the wait for any kind of status can be long and frustrating. According to the State Department, that imaginary “immigration line” is already 4.4 million people long and depending on the type of visa sought and the country of origin, the wait can be years to decades long. In some countries, such as the Philippines and Mexico, people have been waiting over 20 years for approval of a family-sponsored visa.

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Monday, 29 May 2017

Just as I was having my, um, breakfast (more like a very late brunch), I found a text from J9 asking if she could bring a friend to see the garden, someone who would not need “a tour”.  Because I had two friends coming at four, I said we would have to be mowing (Allan) and planting (me) during said visit because I still did not have my three days of modest garden goals completed.  Thus, there is not photo to record J9 and her friend walking through the garden.  Neither Allan nor I had organized having a camera in a pocket till after the lawn was mowed and the last of the at home annuals…the painted sage…were in the ground.

Allan tore off to water the Ilwaco planters in order to be home before Yudy and John arrived.


watering the Ilwaco post office garden


What is that weed? (lower right)..plus my Eryngium x Zabelli ‘Neptune’s Gold’

4 PM:  Yudy and John arrived as planned.  We had met when their small, artistic garden was on the Edible Garden tour and then recently reconnected through Indivisible and the political postcard parties.

I showed them some plants I had dug up to share with a local new gardener.



John was taken with the soft, tall, native fern and we gave him this one that had volunteered under the water boxes bench.


I think Allan took this photo to show the nicely mown lawn and the weeded boat garden.

I love the way the elephant garlic looks like tall grasses next to the boat.


Yudy noticed the bright thorns on Rosa ptercantha (which also has its small white roses now).


Smokey keeping just in front of Yudy.


John heads into the bogsy woods.


Skooter on the bridge.


buttercups looking rather charming


Maybe there is nothing wrong with a haze of yellow buttercups in the right place.


This viburnum got everyone’s attention.


Smokey keeping tabs on us.


John and Yudy’s dog, Lily, had to wait; she would have chased the cats.  (Allan’s photo)

After an excellent walkabout and plans for a campfire later in the summer (with a promise of Yudy’s ukelele!), I got back to my garden tasks.


I was disappointed in myself that I had not finished weeding this smallish area….


even though it did look better than on Saturday.

I went on with the planting of sunflower and some assorted mustard seeds.

While planting sunflower seeds in the middle of the west bed, I found a tragedy.  My Ghislane de Feligonde rose is dying.


one big stem all wilty and the other all dried up: WHYYYY?


the big old trunk…It was an own-root rose. Maybe there is still a piece in my old garden that I could take cuttings from.

I love this rose, and have had it for years, after the man who ran an antique rose nursery near Snohomish said to me “Buy this one.”  I moved it from Seattle to the Sou’wester to Shakti Cove to my house behind the boatyard to hear and it was doing well.  It had gotten pushed around by a vigorous Fuchsia magellanica and I had removed the fuchsia to give it more space.  It looked fine last time I saw it.  (And later, googling proved that this rose seems to be not for sale anywhere in this country that I could find.)

As the mustard seeds went into the  garden between us and Devery’s driveway, a car pulled up in front of her house and someone called out, “Your garden is amazing!”  Because the woman looked so friendly and had opened her car door partway, I replied, “You’re welcome to come on a tour!”  Four people tumbled out of the car and what ensued was one of the most delightful walkabouts I have ever experienced.


meeting Frosty


All they saw was the good and they noticed pretty much everything special to me, all on their own.  Except for one hidden fairy door; I pulled aside fern fronds to reveal it.



The view looking north to the house was commented on with enthusiasm, as was the fire circle.


Frosty, and later Smokey and Skooter, all got pets. (Allan’s photo)

One of the women stopped and read aloud the writing on the house walls.  It is so rare for someone to do that, I can only remember one other time.


As I gaze upon the garden, my heart grows peaceful, still. From its colour comes my being, from its spirit comes my will. -Ryan Gainey


The garden flew round with the angel,
The angel flew round with the clouds,
And the clouds flew round and the clouds flew round
And the clouds flew round with the clouds.

…That things go round and again go round has rather a magical sound.  -Wallace Stevens


The old lamp with shells in it got noticed.

They even admired my bamboo poles that have lost so much of their colorful paint over the winter.

As they departed, and because I had found out that one couple at least comes to the peninsula often, I asked them to re-introduce themselves if they see us working in Long Beach, because both Allan and I have face blindness.  One of the women said she totally understood that and will talk to someone thinking, “I know I like you, but who are you?” and I said, “Yes, I have such a warm feeling about you even though I cannot remember who you are!”

It was just grand.


my cool heather from Pam Fleming (Allan’s photo)


Chickadee-dee-dee (Allan’s photo)

Tomorrow: Back to work.

PSA: The darling house three doors down from us is for sale.  It has a small yard, which might be good for someone who wants a small garden, and a partial view of the port.


For those who like book reports, I read a book (and this short one took me over a week because it is planting time):








Fourth Declaration of the Lacandon Jungle, 1994:




Ursula Le Guin:



Rebecca Solnit.  I love her, and she must be a gardener.






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Monday, 1 May 2017



I was taken aback by completely unexpected cold rain and 20 mph wind.  No!  What happened to our five nice weekdays? Ok, maybe the beach approach garden won’t get done before the Sunday parade.  After all, the parade takes place downtown, not the beach approach.

I decided that I would enjoy a reading day, as did Allan.  I returned to my wonderful birthday present book; Allan had discovered and acquired it for me from the UK.


Smokey loves a reading day.

I was pleased to finish the very funny homage to Bill Bryson’s Notes From a Small Island, in which author Ben Aitken retraces Bill’s route 20 years later.  While much of the book is humorous, I also appreciated Aitken’s occasional serious comments on class.



An amusing passage:


In Lincoln:


More much appreciated (by me) musings on class:



Later, in the north:




I gave the book five out of five stars and I highly recommend it.  There were just a few moments when Aitken suggested Bryson did something that made me think, surely not.  When I cross referenced my copy of Notes from a Small Island, I was right, and now I intend to re-read Bryson’s book while Aitken’s is still fresh in my memory.

I still had plenty of time to read a rather short book that I had somehow missed by one of my favourite authors.


An interesting digression that had little to do with the plot:

And after that, I had time to start (but not finish) a third book, another birthday present from Allan.


I have some reservations about this book, particularly my thought that if you are going to travel from Lands End to John O’ Groats starting off in just your skivvies, begging along the way for clothes, bikes, food, and lodging, it will go a lot better if you are young white men.  These two chaps are the sort who insist on making it quite clear that they really don’t want to share a double bed.  And it does not seem to occur to them to examine why their journey is not especially dangerous.  My feeling when I read Dear Bill Bryson is that I’d love to be friends with the author.  These two…maybe not. However, I am very much enjoying the descriptions of England and I wouldn’t mind another rainy day to finish the book…if it were not for the fact that we are behind on work. (Edited to add…I am almost done with the Free Country book and have enjoyed the travelogue but am AWFULLY tired of being constantly reminded that the two young men are not gay.  They need to grow up!)

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Tuesday, 25 April 2017

As predicted, we had a rainy and windy day.  I felt a little restless about it.  Views as I paced from window to window:




north front


north front


east front


Allan’s study, east


Allan’s study, east


Skooter does not like to go outside in the rain.



I pondered how if I got my whole south window replaced, I could take photos out of the non screened side.


This and one of the front windows is “blown”.

I find it very hard to spend money on things like this.

Just going out on the front porch to take this photo made my hands cold:


Allan did take a few photos on his way between house and shed:




and at the post office:


hesperantha blooming now instead of waiting till fall


one broken lily sprout



Fortunately, I had a big book to read with over 300 pages to go.


No Logo

I finished it by nine o clock, and then watched Deadliest Catch and felt wimpy for not being willing to work in the rain.

I felt blessed that we live in a relatively advertising-free environment.  Here at the “lost corner” of Washington State, we have only two chain restaurants (a rather gaudy McD’s and a low key Subway that blends in), and even though two of our three bigger grocery stores are franchises (IGA and, I think a Thriftway), they are still referred to by their old names (Sid’s and Okie’s).  While we do have billboards advertising local businesses, all but two extra large ones (between Black Lake and Seaview) are gentle on the eye compared to most billboards, and just advertise local motels and resorts.  This makes the Long Beach Peninsula a more restful place to live if, like me, you want to get away from advertising, brand names, and glitz.

Post script for those who are interested: No Logo by Naomi Klein

The book was excellent, even though somewhat outdated (published in 2000).

Some particularly interesting points:

How a certain McD restaurant went after any restaurant with McD in its name:


This reminds me of the local story of how Starbucks went after an Astoria coffee shop named SamBuck’s.  The owner’s name was Samantha Bucks!  (She had done a logo that was sort of a take off on the SB logo.)  Read more about that case here.

A mention of community gardening:


A whole chapter about the Reclaim the Streets movement had this interesting story.



Of course, they lost…


Re child labor, the National Labor Committee, and director Charles Kernaghan:


About how sweatshops and child labor get so much more attention when attached to a brand name (Nike, for example):


More about the Zapatistas (Klein also wrote about them in The Shock Doctrine).  I just very much like what Marcos had to say:



Note to those who care: From what I had read recently, some of the Romany people consider “the g-word” to be a racial slur and would prefer that we use the word Romany.  If you care about that sort of thing, as I do, here is some beginning reading about it.  Google will give you much more.  I’d rather err on the side of politeness so have given up “the g word”. 

Tomorrow more rain is predicted, and I have a book of light reading lined up for a change.

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Saturday, 22 April 2017

The weather did not look good for our planned political activity.


out the window: wind and rain

Such a day would have been just perfect to read this book that just came from the library:


Nevertheless, we persisted in our plan to go to Astoria.  Maybe the weather would be better there, as sometimes happens across the river.



crossing the 4.2 mile long Astoria Megler Bridge

The weather was not better.


as we drove by to find a parking place

For two hours, about thirty people braved pouring rain and 30+ mph wind gusts to join in the nationwide March for Science.  Our version was a rally, not a march.  This intersection is one of high visibility where every vehicle going east through Astoria drives by.


We parked and joined the others.

I’m pleased to tell you that during the entire two hours, even when the group dwindled toward the end, our ears were filled with a cacophony of vehicles’ horns tooting in approval, and we got many waves and upturned thumbs.  I saw only one negative face, followed by two bumper stickers: One read “Trump Pence” and the other read “[something something something] GUNS.”

my photos:









I am slow with puns and just realized…There is no PLANet B.











My sign held up well, covered with clear adhesive shelf paper and edged with packing tape.



Some walked down to a traffic island down the block.  There, they were visible to traffic coming east and turning toward Commercial, and also to traffic heading west on Marine Drive.  I decided to join them, partly because I wanted a better look at the garden.





a well kept garden





My sign is a large one and the wind was strong on the traffic island.  I decided to rejoin the others over by the post office.


That was the moment when my saturated camera said it had had quite enough of the storm.


I hope it revives!

I turned to my iPhone for a few more photos and then decided that it, too, was getting much too wet.




Here are four photos taken by another attendee (I do not know who):

Someone got much better photos of my sign than I managed to get:


Photos by Carol Newman: 

Allan’s photos:































1:01 PM we were done!


And then the rain stopped!

PS. Here is an earth day oriented gofundme to save a local woods. https://www.gofundme.com/help-save-a-forest

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Friday, 31 March 2017

I knew the day would be shortened by a political event.  It got shortened much more than that.

Skooter likes to go outside for about ten minutes after his bedtime snack, and then return to go to bed.  Last night, at 1 AM (typically late night for us), he came tearing up the ramp to the cat door and burst in to the living room at top speed.  Sometimes the cats enjoy chasing each other.  This was different.  Something rammed up the ramp behind him and slammed into the cat door frame. Then there was blood on the kitchen floor.

I got my shoes on and a flashlight as fast as I could, which was not as fast as I wished, and went outside for a look.   A woman was out in the street (at 1 AM?), and she seemed to be cradling and talking to something in her arms. She walked away so fast that I had no hope of catching up to her.  I  thought, does she have a little dog that got after my cat? That seemed impossible.

Skooter’s foot bled; he would not let us look at it, and he yowled and growled for an hour from his favourite late night sit spot in the hallway.  He then took his place next to Allan’s pillow and complained some more.  I felt terrible that he was in pain and got very little sleep myself.

I woke in intense anxiety at an early hour and got an urgent veterinary appointment for the afternoon.  But meanwhile, we had to go do some plant shopping and some work.

On the way to work, I felt compelled to pull some weeds in our volunteer garden at the Ilwaco post office.


one weed bucket pulled, at least one more to go

The Basket Case Greenhouse

The Basket Case, under new ownership (Darrell and Roxanne) is now open every day.  We bought some violas for two jobs and admired the refurbished greenhouses.


new greenhouse entrance! and new co-owner Darrell on the left


checking out the annuals for later on


check out desk with mosaic by Roxanne’s mother, Anna.


fairy gardens


Allan’s photo; That is a lot of fairy world for $25.00


the perennials house


bleeding hearts


Euphorbia ‘Blackbird’


Callistemon…choice, and unusual to see it for sale here!


Plant talk with Darrell.  We take our plants to heart.

That was a pleasing visit and not one to cut short.

I still hoped to get two small jobs done before vet time.

Diane’s garden


Next door: Horse bundled up for a rather cold day.


The yellow ones are for The Anchorage.


pots with a few pansies and violas added


my good friend Misty



Fritillaria meleagris (Allan’s photo)


roadside garden

Bad weather has prevented the removal of the tree stumps. Eventually we will help with a re-creation of this front garden.

The Red Barn


a mat of weeds mixed with California poppy seedlings


Allan’s photo


We did an adequate but imperfect job of weeding because we were running out of time.



a mare named Sophie going out to pasture as the weather warmed up (Allan’s photo)

Oceanside Animal Clinic

At home,  Skooter did not enjoy being put into his carrying crate.


our neighbours one door east 


not a good day for our dear Skooter (Allan’s photo)


one block north, on the way 


at the vet, another orange kitty (Allan’s photo)



member of clinic office staff (Allan’s photo)


more cuties (Allan’s photo)

The veterinarian cleaned up the hurt foot that Skooter would not let us touch, gave him a two week antibiotic shot and a pain shot that will last for three days, and said that the bite on his rear paw had indeed been caused by a small dog.  She could tell by the kind of puncture.  I said, Could a small dog really run up a cat ramp? and she said yes, in the frenzy of chase.  The garden is almost dog-proof….but not tiny-dog-proof.  I can think of a couple of places where a small dog could have squeezed in.

Now, because the wounds are on his paw pad, Skooter has to stay indoors for ten days until he is healed (and must have hydrogren peroxide applied twice daily.  No one will enjoy that one bit).  He loves the garden so much, and the watching of the frogs in the water boxes, and he will not understand why he must stay in.  I feel almost as sad as if I had to stay indoors for ten days of spring time.  At least I would have books to read.  (Cats are said to live longer if they never go outdoors.  Humans would also be safer from predators, including bad humans,  if they spent their lives indoors.  The idea of that makes me feel suffocated.)

We had a very quick turn-around at home before going out again to arrive late to the…

Burma Shave Sign campaign to invite our Congresswoman and the community to our town hall.”

But first, a garden peek over the fence by where we parked in Seaview:




nicely done


and a Little Free Library across the street

We walked past a car with a bumper sticker that we knew had to belong to one of the demonstrators.



on a different car

So the idea was to use signs to illustrate that we wish Republican Congresswoman Jaime Herrera Beutler would meet with her constituents on the Peninsula. (I, of course, have never voted for her.)  She has not held a town hall discussion meeting with her constituents here for six years, I am told.  As a group of local liberals, there are most certainly some items we want to bend her ear about.  Other speakers, including one of her potential Democrat challengers for 2018, will appear at the event.

my photos:


oops, her name is misspelled on a last minute sign!


except…Jaime is a congressWOMAN….




Allan’s photos:


by the busy Seaview intersection that is one main entry to the Peninsula




We will be having the town hall with or without Jaime.







group photo

Afterwards, most of us repaired to Chico’s Pizza for an early dinner and discussion hour.


Back home: The work board list got just slightly shorter.


This blog post got written.  And now for the poignant watching of the final episode of Grimm, one of our favourite telly shows.

You may have noticed we had a lot of rain this month.  From The Chinook Observer, our local paper:

“March came in like a lion and, well, pretty much went out like a lion. Rainfall for the month set a new 149-year record of 17.77 inches, smashing the old record of 16.16 inches in 1975. Third place goes to March 1997 with 16.15 inches.”

Also from the paper: The ribbon cutting ceremony from the new car charging station where we weeded yesterday.

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Sunday, 12 March 2017

Because we had a political meeting in Naselle this afternoon, we had decided to leave home in time to drive half an hour further and visit a museum in Skamokawa.



driving along the Columbia River

I was not best pleased that it was a beautiful day and would have been excellent for weeding the boatyard garden.


two wrecks?

Here is what the white remnant of a boat looked like in 1995, in the same little bay:


For some reason, it had been deemed unsalvageable.

As we drove along, I pondered the fact that the many conifers along our roads are why our landscapes look more somber than the airier ones that Mr Tootlepedal photographs in Scotland.


scenery heavy with evergreens

We arrived at our destination in Skamokawa: Redmen Hall, which I had read was hosting an exhibit about tugboats and steamers on the Columbia.


The view from the parking lot

A back door offered easy access without all those stairs…and a disheartening sign.



Across the highway, below, is a general store and café where we have stopped before.  I thought that, because of Skamokawa being such a small town, I might luck into a museum docent there.


looking down on the grocery store and post office


Redmen Hall from below

In a room right on the river, behind the store, an antiques sale was on for the day.



antiques in a light filled room


I used to have an apple like this till my good friend Sophie (a dog) broke it…for which she was forgiven.

I found two things to buy.  One is a present so I cannot show it!

And sure enough, when I mentioned having driven from Ilwaco to find the museum was closed, I learned that one of the docents was ill, and another one offered to open it for us.


behind the store/café

Off the deck by the store, a boater was buzzing around.  I am sure Allan wished he was out boating, too.




Allan’s photo

We followed the docent back up to Redmen Hall.  The hall was once a school house.  Amazingly, it used be down where the highway is.  When the road was put through, the building got moved up the hill with “steam donkeys” (not really donkeys!).


The old school house remembered.


Allan went straight up to the bell tower. (I did not.)





Step on a pedal to open the shutters for the view.


The views from the bell tower.


river town from high above (and a boat ramp)

On the second floor, well designed historical panels go all around the walls of a big open room.



What Skamokawa means



interpretive panels




the kind docent who let us in.  The way the panels are put together reminds me of my grandma’s scrapbooks.


when the road went through


a dance where “ladies may walk on their partners feet, and no questions will be asked”.


another strong woman


river pictures (Allan’s photo)

A glass case held birds provided by the Audubon Society…


an erstwhile Mr Grumpy had fine plumage.


the view

We dropped a contribution into the money jar and also spent a pretty penny in the well -stocked gift shop, including two books (quiet, because one is a present), a documentary called Work is Our Joy (about gillnetting), and some notecards.  If we’d had time, we could have watched Work is Our Joy right in the museum.  I will enjoy it from my comfy chair at home.  I already identify with the title.



One of three nooks of books.


Well represented: the books of Grays River author Robert Pyle


Musician Doug is the spouse of our friend Beth; they live nearby but we had had no time to look them up.


river town art


most of our purchases

The hall is open Thursdays through Sundays from noon to four.  We recommend a visit.

We had a little over half an hour to to get back to our Indivisible meeting in Naselle.  I could not resist a side trip to the historic 1905 Grays River covered bridge.


on the way

Tying in with our visit to Redmen Hall: author Robert Michael Pyle lives in a house with a view of the covered bridge.  I thought it would be kind of nosy to add a photo of his house, so here is the bridge.




under the bridge (Allan’s photo)


The river running fast and high.  (Allan’s photo)

In particularly stormy times, the river has flooded the valley.


Allan’s photo


Allan’s photo


Here we go.



the other end

Before we turned around, I had to get a closer look at two trees beside  the parking area.



going in for a closer look



moss and licorice fern


Allan’s photo


Allan’s photo


assorted critters

Ooops.  I suddenly realized time had slipped by and we would be 25 minutes late to the meeting at Hunters Inn, Naselle.  I told myself that it was ok; we have been to almost every liberal political meeting available since November so we could be late to just one.



part of the gathering


postcards laid out on three booths


One member brought this.

We discussed, shared ideas, and laid some plans for future events.

On the way home, Allan and I detoured to look at a garden we had admired when attending last month’s meeting.


The garden in question is next door to Naselle Timberland Library. (Allan’s photo)


lots of narcissi about to bloom (Allan’s photo)

Next door: a large garden which I intend to look at every time we have a Naselle meeting.





Allan’s photo


Allan’s photo


pieris and the church next door


Right across the street sits another charming house.


I wonder if there will be sweet peas on that fence in summer. Or that could be a dog path!


wrap around porch



a tree with personality


Allan’s photo

As we got close to home, I looked at the weather forecast and must admit I did begin to fret about losing what might be the only nice gardening day this week.  Remembering that we now have light till after 7 PM (yay for daylight saving time!), I resolved to get two hours work done in my own garden.

While clipping some Joe Pye weed, I gave an experimental dig at a large fuchsia.


one of two many fuchsia magellanica

To my surprise, it shifted, so Allan helped me pull it out.


after…Ok, he pulled, I watched and encouraged.


project: clean up middle bed, before…


and after


Woe!! One of two matched asophedels has disappeared from the right hand pot.


I will snag this asphodel from a different pot.




bogsy wood swale


Oh for more time in the garden; so much to do.


Skooter obsessing about the frogs.

The unfortunate forecast:


Resolved: no more daytime meetings on nice days till we have spring clean up done!

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