This is a secluded little alcove at the top of our Japanese garden. The embankment curves around the sitting area, blocking the view of the houses above. Trees have been planted to further seclude the Adirondack setee. The top of our stream and waterfall is tucked in behind and flows alongside the chair. From this view point, we can overlook our Japanese garden and stream as well as look beyond to the lower property. From here we can gaze above to view the Selah Bluffs and then beyond to see the Selah-Yakima gap.
It is a private and peaceful place to view the surrounding landscape, listen to the rushing water, and watch the birds flutter about. It is a wonderful place to start the day with a cup of coffee, end the afternoon with a glass of wine, or to just sit and be grateful for all that surrounds us.
Walking around the Yakima Arboretum’s crabapple collection is a real treat. I made three trips there this Spring. One day I noticed a young lady walking around and taking closeup images of the crabapple blooms with her i-Pad. Her partner was patiently sitting on a bench waiting for her to finish. The next day I came back again and saw the same lady taking more photos with her i-Pad. And, her partner was sitting on the bench again. Beauty attracts photographers. If it weren’t for “social distancing” I would have asked her if she was just enjoying the beauty of the garden like I was, or was she doing some special project.
The beauty of the majestic ancient crabapples in the Yakima Arboretum has inspired me over the years. It is one of the largest crabapple collections in the country. Almost all of the trees are very old. Some are on their last leg. Over the years the Arboretum has not added new trees to take place of the ones which are past their healthy prime. This will be one of the challenges that the Arboretum will address in the new Master Plan. Anyway, the grove still inspires me to the point that I have decided to create a small crabapple grove of my own in the “lower 40” of Heatherwood. One dark pink crabapple was planted in the garden by the previous owner. It anchors the northeast corner of our house. This spring we will plant a white weeping cherry to complement it. On the “lower 40” we are planting a mini-collection of seven different crabapples to frame in our meadow area. Some are blooming now, so we can get a glimpse of what is to come in the years ahead.
Bleeding Hearts (Dicentra) have always been one of my favorite spring flowers. It was one of Dad’s as well. I can remember when I was just a little tyke, Dad would grab me and take me out to see the first blooms. I can remember him planting the Bleeding Heart in our small garden at the “little house” up at the ranch. When we moved into the “City” (Selah, WA), we built a rock garden in the back yard by our patio. A Bleeding Heart was one of the first plants Dad and Mom planted.
After I was out on my own, it was many years before I planted my own Bleeding Heart. I planted one in our first house in Seattle. our house in Bothell, our house in Fairfax VA, our house in Kent, our house in Woodinville, and our house in Fountainville PA. We were in Fountainville for 17 years where our Bleeding Heart grew into a rather large plant. It provided a beautiful contrast among a bed of pachysandra under a blue atlas cedar. It was the highlight of the spring bloom in its own corner for Karen and me.
The first plant I planted when I moved back to Selah was the Bleeding Heart. I did not have a good shade location to plant it, so I planted it next to the house in a little corner between rhododendrons and sword ferns. It is making its home there, but it is a little hidden. As we finish our Japanese garden, I will find a place for it where it can shine.
Over the years, I have photographed our Bleeding Heart from many different perspectives. I have made several greeting cards using it as the subject. They always come in handy for that special greeting to someone that means very much to me.
I casually walked home through cherry orchard, taking my time and looking all around me. I looked up and saw this protrusion of Selah Ridge overlooking the orchard. I felt like it was a sentinel watching over the rows of trees getting ready to bloom. Blossoms should be emerging very soon. I will keep my eyes open so I can take another adventure through the blooming orchard.
This Easter is quite a bit different than any that I have experienced. I will be with my family in spirit and thought instead of physically being close to them. I will miss watching the little ones scurry around hunting for Easter eggs in our yard and the wonderful conversations between the generations. Our spirits, love, and prayers will transcend the physical distances between us. Mary and I will make the most of the day as we give thanks to our Lord who gave so much to free us from our sins. We will take the time to sit back and appreciate the wonderful world surrounding us. Our prayers will be with the many others around the world as we all fight this pandemic.
Looking down on this row of smudgepots from the old cherry orchard brought back many memories of my childhood. Sixty years ago, I can remember waking up to skies covered with smoke. A thin film of soot covered anything that was open. The soot could even seep in through cracks into our house. Walking outside I remember feeling the smoke in my lungs. These pots were used to produce heat to protect the spring flowering buds from frost. The oil-burning smudgepots were placed between the rows of trees to produce a warm bed of heat. Cherry trees were the most susceptible to the frost because they typically were the first to bloom in the Spring.
Smudgepot lighting was always a special time when I was old enough to work in the orchards. I can remember hanging out in Grandpa Brown’s bunk house with several other school buddies in an evening when a frost was expected. We were suppose to do homework, but that never happened. We would “horse around” and then try to catch a little sleep. When the temperature stated to drop, we would rush out and light the oil in the pots. We would then monitor the temperature until it rose above freezing. We would then rush back out and turn the pots off. After shutting down the pots we would go home and get ready for school. I left my oily and smoky clothes in the garage. I would shower and get dressed, then head down to school. Most of my school pants were white denims. It didn’t take long to get them covered with the soot left by a previous night’s smudging. After school, we would go back out to the orchards and refill the smudgepots to prepare for the next freeze.
Naches-Selah Irrigation Ditch Selah Ridge, Washington
We decided to take a walk around our neighborhood hills and orchards yesterday. We discovered that our spring irrigation water had been turned on and had reached the ditch above our home. It is time to start our spring watering cycle. As I’ve mentioned before, this ditch was constructed and put in use in the 1880’s. This is one of the few open areas still remaining. The area directly above our house has an old wood flume. I am looking at it right now from my office as I type this post. It will be replaced by an underground pipe in the next few years. I will be sad to see the trace of our past removed.
“I Can See the Light!” Yakima Arboretum, Washington
The path in front of us may seem daunting. It is dark, winding and uncertain. We have a long way to travel, but there is light ahead. There is a path, we must all pull together, keep our faith, and help each other remain on it. Falling off the path is not an option if we are to reach the light.
The peak of the pandemic is a few weeks ahead. Maintaining our social distance from each other is critical to minimizing the size of the peak. Let’s all stay on the path!
I have been keeping a close eye on our dogwood tree buds. A few are getting ready to start their bloom. The sepals on this bud are starting to pull back. Soon the blossom will start to appear. The yellow blur in the background is a Wintersonne Mugo Pine. I had to stand on my tip toes to line the bud up with the Wintersonne. It was hard to keep the camera steady on my toes. (I was too lazy to go in and get a tripod.) I took a million images to get one that was reasonably crisp. It was a good way to pass the time!
The last couple of weeks, I have been spending way, way too much time sitting around. My excursions have been short trips to the garden to take a few images. I have made a resolution to be much more active in April as we will be pretty much staying at home.
I will take a daily walk or mini-hike with Mary around our neighborhood and hills around our home.
I will work/play a bit each day in our garden to get it ready for spring.
I will experiment with new techniques and approaches with my my camera to improve my overall skills.
And above all I will make the most of each day as I enjoy the wonders of the world around us!
A Path Leading Forward Yakima Arboretum, Yakima WA
It was a beautiful spring day, and we needed to get out and wander a bit. The Yakima Arboretum was just starting to show its cherry blossoms, so we decided to take a little walk. It was a little early in the blossoming cycle. The trees were not in full bloom, so we will go back in a couple of days.
It was still nice to be outside for a peaceful walk in the Arboretum. We saw only 5 or 6 people wandering around like us. It was easy to keep our “social distance.” As we were leaving the arboretum, we walked along this meandering path to the exit. The path zig-zagged along the way. We couldn’t see the end, but we knew where it was. It reminded us of what is in front of us all. As with the Coronavirus, the path is not straight. We will need to take different directions to adapt how we will live with this difficult situation. We don’t know where the next step will be. But, we must keep our faith and move forward.
The Path
We’ve seen it before—the curving path. The end is out of our reach, but it has promise nevertheless.
We are left to wonder where it goes.
“Uncharted territory” has become a cliche, and we want answers—the right ones. The path must lead forward because
we want to know what the ending brings.
Yet the path itself has curves from one side to the other. Its shape suggests an ebb and flow of life’s fortune.
We take the uncertain journey as that is the gift.
