Category Archives: rural doctor

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Return again

Return again to friends and home and stumble
My house wraps around me familiar then grief
There is so much grief here: death makes us humble
Mother, marriage, sister, father, time a thief
Has stolen them and more to come, a long lived life
Means loss on loss. Memory wells up, deeps swells
We thought we would be different, wise, no strife
Yet the world burns, children bombed in warring hells
Our children know our failure and our malice
We thought we’d be adults and show the way
Our intentions of a wired on-line palace
Yet anger and greed now rule the day
As a child adults are drunk confusing fools
Now my adult children wonder why we are such rigid tools

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: rigid.

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Sesame Street Soup

We did not have a television until I was nine and my little sister was the excuse for watching Sesame Street. We watched this sequence and asked my mother if we could make Sesame Street Soup. We wrote down the recipe and it was delicious.

The soup in my picture is not Sesame Street Soup. It is a Thai influenced soup, with lemon grass and coconut milk and fresh basil and fresh corn, from September 2023.

Sesame Street Soup is here.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: soup.

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Black cat

Sol Duc is pretty happy to be home, even though we do not have a cat door. The yard does not have a secure fence, the road is fast and busy for here, and anyhow, birds.

A black cat for the season, lit with purple, to go with the pumpkins and orange haired nightmare goblins and completely insane speeches and advertisements. Eeeeee, much of it is way more horrific and terrifying than any costume, not just black on the outside, but charred all the way through.

In the photograph, Sol Duc is in the radiant sauna. She approves of it. I am cold here, not because it’s much colder than Grand Junction, but I’m not used to the wet any more. We moved here arriving on New Year’s Eve 2000 and that first winter just felt awfully cold, dampness through to my bone marrow. We were used to it by the second winter.

My pump is ordered and should be fixed next Wednesday. I have two friends who offered their washing machines in the interim, but it was the towels that cleaned up the mild flooding that I had to wash. I went to the laundromat with those.

Now, what shall I be for Halloween? I am invited to a costume party with prizes. The only thing that has occurred to me so far is to dress up as a mesa. I suppose the most horrifying costume I could choose is a political advertisement, ick.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pumpkin.

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Seven

This is Helen Burling Ottaway, my mother, in 1945.

The vest was red wool with embroidery. We had it still, when we were kids. We probably wore it out.

I am not pensive today, I am festive! And home! Three days of driving, with Sol Duc the cat objecting quite a bit, and we are home in Washington.

There are a LOT of mountains between Grand Junction, Colorado and Port Townsend Washington. Many passes as we drove northwest, over to Salt Lake City and then up through Idaho, part of Oregon and then Washington. There was snow on the first pass, but not on the road. We stayed in Burley, Idaho and then in Pendleton, Oregon. When I drove over Snoqualmie Pass, we drove into a cloud and rain and suddenly I could smell the sound! Salt and sea! It was raining in Pendleton yesterday morning but there was no ocean smell. Sol Duc continued to complain intermittently and got tired and slept a lot. Just wait, cat, we are going back!

It is fabulous to be home and see friends already! A friend came and made me banh xeo, Vietnamese pancakes, with spinach and salmon filling, and then I crashed to sleep.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pensive.

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Studt’s again

Rake, huh? I thought, well, I am not sure if I have a picture of a rake.

But look! There it is! Along with the kids shooting corn bazookas at plywood farm figures. They must rake up the husks at night, ready for the next day of Studt’s Pumpkin Farm and Corn Maze, joyful, seasonal mayhem.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: rake.

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All night vigil

Rainshadow Chorale is getting ready for our fall concert. Amazing music! One hundred pages of Rachmaninoff in Russian! I have been practicing remotely, using the recorded choral practices on Facebook, MP3s, language recordings, and my flute to practice tricky sections until they are earwormed into my brain.

The concerts are on Saturday and Sunday, three weekends from now, November 2 and 3, at First Presbyterian Church at 4:00 pm in Port Townsend, Washington. I leave soon to drive back there, cat and all. I think Sol Duc has learned some Russian too.

Here is one of the 15 parts. I like the title: Blessed Be the Man. It makes me think that this is Russian rap music. Actually, I think the whole thing sounds like angels singing in Russian. This is the first time I sing in Russian, but it’s the time that is particularly tricky. Rachmaninoff doesn’t care a bit about time signatures so some measures have eight beats, others twelve, others ten. Count, count, count.

I am using this for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: burgundy, both because of the poster colors and because the music and language is so rich and complex.

Come to the concert if you are anywhere near by!