Autumn, 2019
Me pretending that it is the 19th century and this is the
only photo of me that has survived
This morning the sun rose at 7:48 am here at 45°38”.14.28”.
The sun (which we never laid eyes on today) set at 4:29 pm. This is not the
same as where I used to live at 39°17′N 76°37′W. The sun rose at 7:23 am back east and set
at 4:47 pm so if there was sun in Baltimore today, it was enjoyed for a total
of 103 minutes longer than here.
My calendars conflict as to which day officially sounds the knell
of autumn. Some herald December 22 as the official date and others the 21st.
I may have figured why. The Winter Solstice occurred on the east coast much
earlier. In fact it was officially winter in Baltimore at 11:19 pm on December
20th while it waited until the 21st at 8:19pm here in
Washington. Clearly some of my calendars are east coast variants and others
made for the northwest. This is my 279th season but I have only been
recording them in the blog for around 10 years. This was the first time I
actually looked up officially designated times for seasonal occurrences.
I did very little traveling during this last season. I no
longer include going up to Seattle as a “trip” though I generally spend at
least one night there. I did drive up to Seattle on three occasions during the
autumn and spent about 8% of my time there. Why so often and so long you may
ask? That is because my daughter Hannah had a baby boy on November 9th.
Mother, Son and Aunt a few minutes after arrival
The first time I went up there was because it appeared that
the birth of the young man named Ali was imminent. I stayed with Lucie his aunt,
and was going to visit the new born and his exhausted mother on the day after
(Lucie was set to be present for the actual event). While I attended the birth
of both of my daughters I knew that there already was to be a crowd for this
one and grandsons are not daughters. It was a false alarm as it turned out, and
Ali joined us about a week later. I waited another week and returned when
mother and child were at home getting to know each other.
I went back about two weeks later. I was a temporary and
fill-in dad while Hannah and her husband were predisposed. Being only a week
old, Ali affords his mother rare and sporadic sleep. Ali’s father works nights
and attempts to sleep during the day. That is where I came in. While I could
not surfeit for either of them I could take on roles of daily living that they
could be relieved of. I cooked and cleaned and when possible, enjoyed the young
Ali.
Grandpa
I went back when Ali was 5 weeks old and found a different
grandson. He was bigger, more alert and better at screaming. The latter chore
was only marginally improved from several weeks before. However his parents
were adapting and he was staring at them longer and soothed to lullabies a
little better. I do not envy them their daily chores however. On the other hand,
this is all a new learning experience for all involved.
My latest photo
I took a walk in the park not too far from my apartment in
early October and discovered at about 30 feet on a limb of a Douglas Fir, a
great horned owl. I had never seen an owl in the wild. I had thought I had seen
one a few times on the east coast but could not confirm that I had. This time I
could.
Great Horned Owl
During early October, a few months after having my DNA
scoped by one of the zillion companies that advertises their wares, I was
contacted by a man who thought we might be related. He is not listed on the
very elaborate family tree that my parents created many years ago. He told me
about his own birth father. He provided many details about his father’s mother
which jibed significantly with that of my own mother’s history. She was born in
1929 to a young woman and immediately put up for adoption. My parents tracked
down the family of her biological mother while in their 60s. They met with
several distant relatives who provided her with much information about her
mother. If they mentioned a second birth by this grandmother to them they kept
that information to themselves.
I only got DNA results for my interest in my genetic roots
rather than to expand on the family tree. I had no plans on contacting anyone
hoping to fill in a gap in the tree. I was disappointed but satisfied that my
heritage is close enough to what was found by the exhaustive research that my
parents did 30 some years ago. I’m still around 60% German and nearly 35% from
the British Isles the rest is Scandinavian (and I suppose, Neanderthal).
So one day I got an email from a guy who was diligently toiling
away at his own family tree. I won’t reveal his name but will say that nearly
everyone who reads this has somehow known someone with the same name, it is
that common. Maybe even you or I actually know this man.
It turns out that in 1925 his father was born in a condition
not unlike my mother’s. He did not have the same biological grandfather (at
least he did not indicate such). We were able to confirm via a bit more
research that we share a biological grandmother. He is some sort of cousin to
me but I am too lazy to figure out any details beyond than that.
Over several weeks we exchanged information-none of it
deeply personal. Suddenly he stopped communicating. Many thoughts went through
my mind as to why but I elected to just let him be the next to make contact. One
thought was that perhaps he wanted to keep a distance for any reason. It may be
due to any of many causes.
Well I am open to learning more but not terribly much. This
exchange was interesting but not so much as to lose sleep hoping to probe more.
It was all just a tidbit that makes life more interesting.
On October 12th I did my twice annual volunteering
at the Portland Food Bank and was reminded that I cannot do what at one time I
could. Actually I could but slower and with more aches and pains. The various
chores there all require a vim and vigor that I assume is still there and am
reminded semi-annually that no it aint. The task at hand this time, was to
assist many volunteers in dropping bags of sorted potatoes into a large bin and
then, with the help of a pallet jack, deliver them to a staging area before they
were trucked off. I also had to construct a few of the aforementioned bins. The
effort reminds me of my own senescence but I must toss concern to the wind as
much as for the noble cause as for my own desire to believe I still have the
physical integrity of a 45 year old.
I didn’t do much else during the month that is worth
reporting here. I will mention that the first frost that left residue on my
windshield came on the morning of the 27th.
On November 13th my grad school friend and
Marylander for the last few years I lived there, came to town for about 48
hours. I have mentioned Frank in many posts during the last few years the
latest being our rendezvous in San Francisco about 8 months ago.
This most recent trip west was delayed a whole day by severe
weather in the Midwest that closed ORD. This truncated our visit but we made
the best of it. That was the earliest polar vortex I ever heard of, the others
occurring after the holidays.
I picked him up at Portland’s airport-PDX in mid-afternoon
and we drove a few miles south to the Hawthorne neighborhood. The weather was
adequate though the afternoon was in early repose and the temperature dropping.
We stopped at a bar for a beer and some reconnoitering prior to finding a place
for dinner.
Hawthorne is a tract of several miles of commercial places.
Bars, bistros, cafes, restaurants and new age boutiques line each side of the
street. Most pedestrians are young and more or less looking for a pleasant
time.
We opted for a Cuban restaurant and we agreed that was a
fine choice. Once finished and sated we walked about a mile back to the car and
headed to my place in Washington. The only way to get there is to span two
bridges over the Columbia and Willamette Rivers. It was late enough in the
evening to avoid the horrible rush hour conditions that help make Portland a
travel legend. We would not have ventured over the river on the 205 had it been
six o’clock.
We finished the night at my place. Frank was still on East
Coast time and so it was an early finish.
Since his visit only provided us with one full day of seeing
the sights, we spent it again in Portland. This time we took my normal mode of
transportation when I head into the city. Here is how it works. I drove us
about 2 miles to where I can park for free and take a bus to downtown
Vancouver. From there it is a 2 block walk to meet another bus that takes us over
the Columbia and to a light rail stop at Delta Park. Then it is a light rail
ride to far too many places to enumerate.
So we went downtown and walked all over the place looking at
various sites and wonders of Portland including as always, a search for
restaurants. We saw the Historical Society and its Tromp ’de Ouel facade of
several stories. From there it was west to Glisan with a stop at the fabled
Powell’s Book Store. We walked up to 23rd to see what we may find
for a dinner but ultimately decided on to Deschutes on 10th street
for dinner and lastly the sojourn back home avoiding again, the angst of bridge
travel by retracing the method that got us here.
We stopped briefly for a beer at the brew pub closest to my
apartment.
In the morning we had time for breakfast and a fast walking
tour of Vancouver. We had our morning repast at a pleasant little café called
Rosemary’s and it was off to the airport for Frank. I went home and cleaned up
a bit and the next morning I was off to Seattle for the first of several
ventures up there during the fall.
I spent Thanksgiving cooking a turkey breast with
traditional sides. I watched the Lions lose another dismal game. After dinner I
packaged the remaining turkey in a variety of ways as to extend the meat but
not the holiday. It became turkey noodle soup (3x), burritos (2x) and
sandwiches (3x) so it was put to good use.
December has flown by like a zephyr and now it is the
holiday season which I try to eschew sans a bit of music and food I only eat
once a year. I heard a holiday song that I was unfamiliar with but enjoyed it.
So I’ll share a link to Karrin Allyson’s Yuletide Hideaway. The days being so short means early to bed but
not terribly early to rise. I am finishing the month with a trip to the southern
coast of Oregon many miles farther south than previous ventures. I’ll provide
details when I chronicle the winter months.
The Great Blue that descended into a local garden in December
