Still waiting for spring --

In spite of reports that this state, along with the rest of the west, is warming faster than the rest of the country, we have snow today. Even near the water it's coming down in flakes instead of drops, and I wonder what the tourists on the sightseeing boat out in the lake will have to say once they are back on land!

On better days, the lake looks like this. (That's the police fireboat, checking nozzles.)



I know spring is coming, because I have now seen at least two crows carrying nesting material. Yesterday the bird had so long a stick in its beak that it had trouble finding a place to land.


Best bird sighting yesterday was the Rufous Hummingbird (Selasphorus rufus) that flew out of a flowering quince just ahead of me. It landed in a bare tree nearby, long enough for a good look. However they manage it, two species of hummingbirds - Rufous and Anna's - winter over in the Pacific NW. (Thanks to a hummingbird fanciers' site on the web for this picture.)

Chickadees have checked out the nesting box once or twice, but show no interest in starting a nest. Perhaps if I added a heat lamp...

Reunion

What I have been working on this week is an upcoming 50th high school reunion - mine.

"How can we be old enough for a 50th?" That was the reaction of a previously lost classmate, whose comment was passed along to me by another classmate - her former sister-in-law.

We went to high school in a small town. In the class were two sets of cousins, and at least three class couples married after graduation. It was common to have parents who had graduated from the high school.

Many classmates still live in town, although a significant number of us live over here, "at the Coast." We've managed to put together a reunion committee from both groups.

Thanks to the internet, we've located people who had been out of touch for years. A 50th reunion gets the attention of many who have avoided all previous gatherings.



I was delighted to find this vintage picture of the high school, because since our time it has undergone some ill-advised remodeling. A part of every reunion is a tour of the building, which can be almost unbearably evocative at times.

The school was built sometime in the 1930's, to what seems to have been a standard plan. My husband's high school, built about the same time on the south side of Chicago, looks almost the same.

Venice

When I dream about being somewhere else, the first place that comes to mind is almost always Venice. After five or six visits there, I still want to go back, as often as possible.

I'm a Venetophile, according to Judith Martin (aka Miss Manners), whose most recent book, No Vulgar Hotel, is a wonderful read for anyone who loves the city. Martin, who goes to Venice twice a year, writes about the daily life, history and literary associations of Venice with her customary attention to detail and deceptively light touch. She knows that small shops are disappearing in favor of tourist traps stuffed with "Venetian masks" made in China; that day-trippers fill the walkways from wall to wall; and that high water (aqua alta) happens all too often - Venice remains fascinating.

Not all the small shops have disappeared. So far as I know, this violin maker is still in business, somewhere near the Campo Santa Margarita. I liked the watery effect of the old window glass - Venice, after all, is defined by water.

First day of spring?

Somewhere the weather must be warm and truly springlike, but not here.

Nevertheless, the Pike Place Market celebrated the first day of spring by stationing volunteers (bundled in parkas and boots against the cold) to give away 30,000 daffodils on all the busiest corners in downtown Seattle this morning. It was a wonderful gesture - in spite of cold wind and intermittent drizzle, most people smiled and reached out for the offered flowers.

Next month we can look forward to fields blazing with tulips in the Skagit Valley, just north of here. For now, we have wind, rain, and the possibility of snow tonight!

Keeping up -

After the first poetry class, I feel encouraged enough to work on something to take in next week. Class lasts 2 hours, so there should be enough time for everyone to read, even if all 15 students bring poems. The teacher is able to keep the class discussion focused, without making his guidance too obvious.

Keeping up with music, knitting (the sweater is growing nicely), working on a class reunion, and other aspects of daily life means I'm not reading many books. The New Yorker and the Economist arrive each week without fail, and recently, just to complicate things, I subscribed to Paris Match. The magazine is the French equivalent of People or Us, and almost qualifies as a guilty pleasure - while catching up on the latest about M. and Mme. Sarkozy (she has been on the cover of Match at least three times since the wedding) I'm learning new vocabulary and contemporary expressions. Really. (For another approach to contemporary French, see this website.)

Match does cover current events differently from American media. Its pictures of the riots in Myanmar were far more comprehensive and disturbing than anything I saw here.

So I think about Paris when the magazine arrives, and promise myself I'll get the French dictionary out before I settle down with the latest issue, instead of trying to get the stories from context. But it's so hard to stop reading long enough to look up that ONE word that I should know anyway...

J. S. Bach

Since I have more than one phrase of Bach's Cantata 21 running through my head tonight, I'll honor him with a picture.

Our choir's Easter presentation is actually given on Palm Sunday. Though the day was cold and rainy, the church was full of flowers, and a big crowd turned out for both services. We sang with a small chamber orchestra - two violins, a viola, cello, string bass and an oboe player. The music director conducted from the harpsichord, and another pianist played "organ" on an electronic piano. For the gloriously over the top last chorus of the cantata, we even had a tympani (of sorts): two drums and a Zildjian cymbal. We had worked hard on the choruses, and the soloists were splendid, by themselves or in duos or quartets.

Not spring yet.

Cold rain today. Even the birds were quiet, except for a crow bouncing up and down on on the bare maple tree, rasping at the world.

Sparky the cat ventured out on the balcony, staying on the part that's sheltered except for a quick pounce to check out the fuzzy ball she carried out there last night. Surprise - it was wet. She came back inside, to observe the world from her cat tree.

Yesterday I took advantage of the only sun we've had for days, and transplanted a few primroses. All the ordinary colors were gone - gathered into prepared planters at the nursery. What remained is these odd-colored blossoms - which I now think I quite like, especially in terra-cotta pots.