Photo Challenge A Significant Glow

This is the view from the deck of our vacation house in Bigfork, Montana, on September 7, the day after we got there from Washington.  You can’t see much, due to the smoke from the terrible wildfires, that closed Glacier National Park, and prevented our group from doing most outdoor activities.

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And on September 10, finally, the Glorious Sunset Glow!  We could see the sun, and a bit of sky, as the smoke cleared a bit.  Everyone’s mood was much improved.

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I have never been happier to see the sun that I was that day.

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Just Who are the Haters?

Hubby and I spent the afternoon yesterday in the town of Port Townsend, on the Olympic Peninsula, collecting on the last of the Jazz package we bought at an auction (dinner at the Hanazono Asian Noodle House).  Before dinner, we walked up what seemed like 1,000 steps to check out the Uptown neighborhood.  Walking down Washington Street, we came across a little Cafe.  This sign was in its front window, for passersby to see.

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So, is this the way an eatery should welcome prospective customers?  This sign is asking people to check their biases, and move on if any of the above describes their point of view.  This sign is winnowing down the universe of people who might like the food and beverages they serve.  And which part of this sign jumps out at the casual passer-by?  How about You’re NOT Welcome Here.  Well, if I’m not welcome here, I’ll just walk on by. And I’ll spread the word to all my friends and acquaintances that they are not welcome here either.  The people who post this kind of sign in their front window are the ones who have the bumper-stickers on their car which say “Coexist”, and “Teach Tolerance”.  Not terribly tolerant, are they?

I’m not much into the vandalism thing, but this made me want to throw a brick through that window.

Seen through a window…at 60 miles per hour!

I have gotten pretty good at taking photos from the passenger-side windows of our car.  On our way to Montana and back, I shot these photos from the moving vehicle-I really wanted my friends to see what the air quality was, as a result of the wildfires in Montana and Eastern Washington.

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This was just east of Spokane, on Interstate 90.

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This was what we could see of Lake Coeur D’Alene.  Lake?  What lake?

On our way home, the air had cleared up a great deal.  These photos are my favorite basalt cliffs of the Columbia Gorge, on the east bank of the river, just outside East Wenatchee, Washington.

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Basalt cliffs, Columbia Gorge

See the green at the base of this photo?  Those are vineyards.  Many orchardists around Wenatchee, the apple capital of the world, are pulling up their orchards and planting wine grapes.

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The Road Trip From Hell

At least, that’s how I thought of it at the time, and for a long time thereafter.  The year was 1971.  I had just graduated from Washington State University with a degree in Psychology.  I had applied to graduate school, and had been accepted at the University of Minnesota.  So, how was I supposed to get from Seattle to Minneapolis for grad school?  We discussed it in the family.  I would need a car, but had almost no money.  I was offered my mother’s 1962 Chevy II, 4-door car, to drive myself to school.  Now, my mother never took the car anywhere but to the local stores and maybe downtown once in a while, so it got next to no highway driving.  And since it never got many miles, it never got much service either.  Oil changes and inspections were a rare occurrence, so needless to say it was a mess inside.  Here is a picture of what my transportation looked like.  The car was even this color (brown, so it wouldn’t show the dirt, according to mom).

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Larry, my boyfriend, was a whiz at working on cars, so he spent a couple of weeks under and inside the car cleaning up and fixing everything he could think of that might go wrong.  He replaced all the belts and hoses, replenished all the fluids, and inspected all the working parts that he could.  There was not much he could do about the engine, which sometimes made funny noises that no one could trace.  I never felt confident driving it, expecting something to blow up or drop off.

I went down to the local AAA office, and had one of their people draw me up an itinerary, with all the highways and stopping points marked.  It seemed to me to be a pretty complicated plan, including lots of back roads and not many freeways.  But I did it their way with no complaints, because I didn’t know any better.  I applied for, and was granted my very first credit card, from Chevron, so I could buy gas on the trip.  I took a big sheaf of American Express Traveler’s Checks to pay for meals and motels on the trip.  I had no idea how and where I was going to live in Minneapolis once I arrived there.  My father had a distant relative who lived in a near suburb, so he contacted them, and they arranged to put me up at their house until I could find an apartment near school to rent.

So, in mid-August, I packed up all my worldly goods in the old car, and set out for Minnesota.  All by myself.  Knowing no one, never having driven a tenth that distance alone.  And in a car I hated, and feared that it might break down.

The first couple of days were uneventful.  It was midsummer, and hot, and the old car had no air-conditioning, so I was fairly uncomfortable.  Funny, but I made it to Montana before I had any sort of trouble.  I had spent the previous night in Great Falls, and was puttering down the two-lane highway when something went “BANG”, and the car simply stopped.  My greatest fear had been realized.  Here I was, in the wilds of rural Montana, with a car broken down.  Fortunately, it was early in the day, around 10AM.  Remember, this was before mobile phones were ubiquitous.  There was a farmhouse a short distance away, and I was getting ready to lock up the car and walk there to see if I could use their phone to call AAA.  Just then, a bright red Ford station wagon drove by, and slowed down.  The driver noticed me by the side of the road, and stopped to see.  It was a traveling salesman, and he did have one of those newfangled car phones.  He called AAA for me, and it turned out that the nearest town had a Chevy dealer, who had a tow truck. So we arranged to have the Stanford, Montana Chevy dealer tow my car into town.

I rode in the cab of the tow truck, and in speaking with the driver, it turned out that I had been really lucky.  They were about to take the tow truck out of service for its own maintenance, and I had called just before that was to happen.  When we got to town, there were lots of things to do and decisions to make.  While I waited, the car was put up on the rack, and they determined that my problem was a broken timing gear, which would require a new part.  The dealer did not have it in stock, so it would have to be ordered.  So I needed to find a place to stay while the car was being fixed, and money to pay for it.  I phoned home, and appealed to my parents for help.  Again, Dad to the rescue.  It turned out that the widow of an old Coast Guard buddy of his lived in Great Falls.  He called her and asked if she could put me up while the car was being repaired, and she said yes!  Her 18-year-old son was home for the summer, and he drove down and picked me up.

Well, he and his mother turned out to be interesting people.  They lived in a very nice home, which all I can remember of now is all the kitchen appliances were turquoise!  Oh, and they were never used, and mother and son ate out for all their meals.  I stayed there for the six days it took to fix my car, and then the son drove me back down to Stanford.  I charged the repairs on my Chevron card, and that was about my credit limit.  So I was on my way, with a repaired car, no air-conditioning, and a load of anxiety that I hadn’t had before.  One more thing.  My new schedule now put me right behind the Montana State Fair, so for the next couple of nights in Montana, the places I stopped for the night had few motel rooms available due to the fair (which moved from town to town).

The remainder of my trip was horrible, hot, and anxious.  One of the few good things I remember from then was the terrain in Judith Basin County, just south of Great Falls-I thought it was beautiful.  My car troubles weren’t over, since it needed a new thermostat, which was replaced in Gillette, Wyoming.  I drove across South Dakota next, and sweltered.  As I was coming into Sioux Falls, it started to rain.  With the outside temperature over 90, it was either roast with the windows up, or get wet while leaving them open.  I left the windows open and got wet.  In all this time, too, I hadn’t slept very much at all, so I was about as miserable as I could be, alone in a strange place, knowing no one, and worried that I was running out of money.  I was able to call home, and I spoke to Larry.  It was good to hear his voice and tell him my troubles.  He told me that I was having an anxiety attack, but had no words of wisdom about how to cure it.

I crossed into Minnesota, and drove north toward Minneapolis.  The last town on my route was Mankato, and as I drove through town, I realized that I was driving in the middle of a parade!  Just what I needed, to hit town in the middle of their annual Corn on the Curb Festival, celebrating the town’s most important product-corn!  Indeed, many people were sitting on the curb, eating corn on the cob.

I made it to Minneapolis, and managed to find the home of my father’s distant relatives.  They lived in Saint Louis Park, and their house was nice.  However, they were not.  I discovered very early on that they really didn’t want to host me, and they made every effort they could to kick me out as soon as possible (which didn’t help my mental state one bit).  I then went apartment-hunting in the city, and managed to find a tiny basement studio apartment only a few blocks from campus.  I moved my stuff in there, and tried to find out how to cure my anxiety which had not abated at all.  Since school was not yet in session, I couldn’t use the school medical facilities.  What cured me?  Finding a friend!  I struck up a conversation with a young man who lived in the same building, and the next night I got my first good night’s sleep in weeks.  I considered that the end of the Road Trip From Hell.

Note:  In the mid-1980s, Larry (now my husband) and I took a driving trip through Montana.  We made a point to stop in the tiny town of Stanford, and visit the Chevy dealer.  It turned out that the dealership was now run by the son of the owner when I passed through, and he was pleased to hear that I had remembered them.

 

A New Photo Challenge: Layered

Hubby and I spent the week after Labor Day in Bigfork, Montana, at a Ricochet meet up that had been planned for over a year.  There was no way we could have predicted that most of Washington, Idaho, and Montana would be shrouded in smoke from multiple wildfires in Eastern Washington and Montana.  When we were loading up our car, there was actually ash on the car!  And we were in that smoky environment all the way from Everett to Bigfork!  We literally did not see the sky for nearly a week.  However, all that smoke did create a very layered view.

This is the view from the back deck of the house we were renting for the week.  This is the shore of Flathead Lake, and there are actually trees, mountains, and a lake out there!

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A little closer to us was a large Ponderosa Pine tree.  I have always been fascinated by the thick, multi-layered bark of these trees.  That bark, with all its layers is sometimes over two inches thick.   And its color is beautiful, too.  Its thick bark protects it from fire.

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Ponderosa pine tree, Bigfork ,MT

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A Weekend at Jazz Port Townsend

Back in March, Hubby and I attended the After Midnight Gala auction for the Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra, a wonderful jazz Big Band.  At that auction, we bought a weekend package that included two nights of lodging, and tickets to Friday and Saturday concerts, the weekend of July 31.  Port Townsend is across Puget Sound from our home in Everett, so the weekend started with a beautiful ferry ride from Edmonds to Kingston.  We just love this ferry, and sometimes we just go for a day trip.  It was sunny and warm.  Here are some pictures of what we saw from the ferry on the way over.

This one was taken from the ferry before we even left port!  The State is doing some upgrades to the dock, and I am always impressed with the big machinery.

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Next, I turned my camera in toward the car deck, and I just laughed to see this vehicle parked next to us.  Check out the license plate frame.

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We really do live in one of the most gorgeous places in the world.

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That’s Mount Baker, which is north of us, nearly on the Canadian border.

We drove on west through Kingston and Port Gamble, and reached Port Townsend in the late afternoon.  Here are a couple of pictures of the place we stayed.  This is a private home, which was donated by the owner for the auction (one of the SRJO board members had stayed there and loved it).  We had our own little suite with a private entrance at the back.  Beware that monster!

Friday night’s concert (and all the rest) was held in a former blimp hangar at Fort Worden.  Here are some shots of the outside and the inside.  No photography was allowed during the concerts, of course.

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Friday night’s performers were two groups.  The first group was called “Keep on Keepin’ On”, with Justin Kauflin (an amazing blind pianist), Doug Weiss, Bass, and Kendrick Scott on drums.  The second group “The Haris House”, consisted of Niki Haris, a wonderful singer, backed up by Wycliffe Gordon on trombone, Sullivan Fortner on piano, John Clayton on bass, and Joe LaBarbera on drums.  They were all fantastic, and had the audience captivated.  Jazz musicians tend to have a great sense of humor, too, and we all got lots of laughs.

Saturday had two performances, one in the afternoon and one in the evening.  Outside the hall in the afternoon, there were groups of student musicians who had been at the week-long jazz workshop, showing their stuff.  These kids are awesome!

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Saturday afternoon’s concert was incredible, featuring a lady who really screamed on her saxophone.  You don’t often think of sax players as ladies, but this one, Tia Fuller, really knows her stuff!  She was backed up by Sullivan Fortner on piano, Doug Weiss on bass, and Kendrick Scott on drums.  Beautiful woman, great music, and lots of laughs-what more could you ask for?

Next on the program “Lifting Voices”, consisting of Cedric Dent and Niki Haris vocals, Sullivan Fortner again on piano, Jon Hamar, bass, and Joe LaBarbera on drums.

Last came the “All Star Big Band” of the workshop faculty, directed by John Clayton.  They did get a little snippy with the conductor, but then they’re all stars in their own right!  Soloists were Jeff Clayton on alto sax, Adrian Cunningham on tenor sax, Wycliffe Gordon on trombone, Sean Jones and Terell Stafford on trumpet, Hubert Laws on flute, and vocals by Dee Daniels and Niki Haris.  The rest of the band consisted of Mark Taylor and Tia Fuller on alto sax; Adrian Cunningham and Alex Dugdale on tenor sax; Gary Smulyan on baritone sax; Brad Allison, Terell Stafford, Sean Jones, Jay Thomas, Andy Omdahl on trumpet; Wycliffe Gordon, David Marriott, Dan Marcus on trombone; Greg Schroder on bass trombone, Dan Balmer on guitar, Bill Cunliffe on piano, Chuck Deardorf on bass, and Matt Wilson on drums.  I swear, Matt Wilson looked like something straight out of Mad Men!  Needless to say, they were awesome.

After the Saturday afternoon concert we had some free time, so we went looking for dinner.  We first drove down to the Port Townsend Marina.  Beautiful!

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Saturday night’s concert was just wonderful.  The first act featured someone who I had never heard of before, Hubert Laws, whose instrument is the flute!  You don’t often think of the flute as a jazz instrument, but Mr. Laws is a past master.  Aside from the fact that the flute can get overpowered by louder instruments, the program was very fun, and Hubert Laws is a great musician.  The last act featured a tribute to Louis Armstrong, led by Wycliffe Gordon on his trombone.  All the musicians were really playing out, and we all felt that we had been really “jazzed-up” by the end of the evening.

As usual, we arose late on Sunday for the drive and ferry ride home.  Here are some of the things we saw on the way out of town to the ferry in Kingston.

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The Fort Worden Military Cemetery in just outside the gates.  That is a cannon way over on the edge of the enclosure.

Closer to town, we drove by this old building, being devoured by the vegetation, and I just had to get its picture.

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Most of my readers and followers know my political orientation.  This sign, which we saw all over town, shows the orientation of most of the town.  Opposite from mine.

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Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.

Here are a couple of photos taken from the bluff just outside the east gate of the old fort.

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That’s the old officers’ quarters, which are now vacation rentals.

We got to Kingston around 4:00PM, and got in the ferry line.  I went hunting with my camera, and this is what I found.

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The newly-legal industry is doing their “good citizen” activity.  Sigh…

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Yes, even expensive Italian sports cars take the ferry.

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The Norwegian Pearl, starting its journey to Alaska from Seattle.  Three cruise lines ply that route, and it’s prime tourist season.

Once on the ferry, I got this one.  Beautiful sailboat, in a brisk wind.  She’s the Mata Hari.

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All in all, a wonderful weekend.