Red Butte Gardens - Spring Approaches

Iain has a special kind of school this week. It's spring break but I have a pile of grading not unlike the pile of straw Rumpelstiltskin spun into gold every night. It's big.

So every morning Iain goes off to play with a select band of kids who are in school during spring break. In the afternoon, I pick him up and we have outings.

Yesterday, we visited Red Butte Gardens to check on spring. It's coming, for sure. We basked in 65 degree weather, intense sunshine, and the complete emptiness of the garden. It was we two plus a family of four. That's it.

And look! Snowdrops! They're always the first to pop. I've seen at least ten daffodils around town, though, and the purple heads of tulip leaves are emerging swiftly, too.

Any minute: warm air, brilliant sunshine, and the downward slide into summer. Iain's ready for camp and I'd be dreaming of sleeping in had I not already (!) scheduled pretty much every single day of June. Oh well. There's always July.

Today was the Natural History Museum (Dinosaurs!), tomorrow perhaps the zoo. Or the aviary...you never know.

Blizzard? Schmizzard!

Hey - is that sunshine on the kitchen counter? Sunshine? But I thought it was supposed to snow for 4 days! Or be a blizzard! Or something!!

Nope. Pathetic. No white-out conditions reached us. No particular snow accumulation, either. The 2-8 inches we hoped for turned into a scant 1 inch of dry, blowy snow. Meh.

On the plus side, Thanksgiving Day was gorgeously sunny. Blue skies, blazing light, and a sense of warmth. That is, so long as you stayed indoors. It was about 18 outside, but in our toasty cottage with its radiators and big windows, you could be forgiven for feeling like a bug in a rug.

Eventually, we gathered our things (one streusel-topped apple pie, one pan of roasted root veggies with sweet onions and thyme, two serving utensils, and one bag containing whipping cream, sugar, and cinnamon) and headed for V.'s house. There, it was Thanksgiving as conducted by people who LOVE vegetables. Not vegetarians, mind you. Vegetable lovers.

So there was a spinach gratin, a stuffing made with mushrooms, celery, wild rice and herbs, a bitter greens salad with sliced pears and candied pecans...oh and a big, bosomy turkey to help with all that vegetable goodness.

No sweet potatoes with marshmallows. No mashed white potatoes. No green beans in canned mushroom soup. Not that there's anything wrong with any of those dishes. But it was great to spend the meal with folk who never met a plant lifeform they didn't want to eat. Preferably with blue cheese and a nice Balsamic.

Blizzard Warning!

Weather update: We all came home early because of a Blizzard Warning! due to kick in at 5 or so and last until tomorrow.

In theory we should have had four days of steady snow. Instead, it snowed, then stopped. It's been 40 and calm. So I guess we're going to get all that snow tonight - maybe as much as 8 inches. And we've got 40mph winds with gusts of 60 to get us all warmed up.

Except...warmed up might not be the best description. Today? 40. Tomorrow? 18. With lows Wednesday of -4.

!!

Chilly, Willy.

[EDIT: 5:27 pm I can see the storm coming. What do I mean? I am looking west from our dining room windows, and though I can see snow blowing in the street light, the air is relatively clear. BUT, if I look across to my neighbor's garage, I can see a wall of white moving toward us. You can't see anything past her garage. The lights of 13th are circles of light in a swirl of white. So. Snow!

Here's what the Weather Underground has to say (emphasis mine):

A blizzard continues to develop across northern Utah. At 4pm....the leading edge has moved east along Interstate 80 nearing the Tooele Valley...and south along Interstate 15 to North Ogden. Along and behind this line...heavy snow and continued gusty winds will create whiteout conditions...deteriorating roadways...with temperatures falling 15 to 20 degrees in the matter of minutes. These conditions are forecast to reach downtown Salt Lake City around 530 PM.]

Glumpy, Ploppy, Sloppy Snow

We awoke Sunday to this. 2-4 inches of wet, heavy, drippy snow on everything. It's the kind of snow that bends the trees until they break (indeed, we lost a big branch along the street and our neighbors lost a HUGE section of their Buckeye tree. Iain got to watch a city truck use chainsaws and a whisper chipper to break down the mess.).

But lo! What sky is that - down the valley to the southeast?

Blue sky. This place is so great. It snowed, then we saw blue sky, then it was grey again. Today: blue sky with big fluffy clouds. Wednesday they're calling for more snow. But in the meantime, we enjoyed the glimpse of sunshine.

In other news, today I got a little High School Flashback.

I sat down in the hall, beside a student to whom I had to break some bad news about an assignment. She took it well.

But when I rose, what did I feel on my hiney? A cool breeze. Too cool. Moist, even.

Turns out that what I took for a stain on the carpet was actually a big puddle. Of what? Who knows. I sat on my chair for an hour, waiting while my body heat dried my butt. Because that's all I need: to parade down the hall with a wet rear end.

Joy. I'd like it, someday, if I could hold a little dignity in my hands. Just for a while.

Weather

Yesterday afternoon, at the park. Toward the mountains, you could see a break in the clouds. But look the other way (west):


Ruh roh. That's not pretty. As it happened, we played for about 25 minutes, then just as we whisked Iain into the car the cold, soon freezing, rain started to come down.

By this morning, it was 4 inches of snow. This afternoon we're forecast to have 2-4 more, then 2 more tonight. Snow tomorrow. Snow Tuesday. Who knows where it will end?

Pics from this morning to come - stay tuned.

Time To Get Out the Cookie Sheets?

I have a bet going with my students. Here's how it went down:

It was hot, y'all. HOT. For weeks! I was sweating in my twin sets, lecturing away with the lights out and the windows open. I hate to be hot.

Finally, I told the students I'd figured out that there wasn't ever going to be a winter. This whole storyline about skiing and mountains and cold weather was clearly a ruse. No matter what they said, the truth was that we were going to be puffing away in 80-degree sunshine all year.

My students found this amusing. In particular, the ones who are elite skiers thought it was funny. So I told them that since there was never going to be winter, they were obviously not really skiers. "Why are you here?" I asked. "Is it witness protection?" They said no, that they were actually an international super-spy ring. Sure, ok.

But anyway, then they made me a bet. They claim it will snow by Halloween. If it does, I have to make cookies for them. If it does not...they have to make cookies. So either way, the ravenous teenagers get cookies. And me, too.

I wasn't worried. Two days ago, it was 70. Today, it's 65. Tomorrow, 63. So is it likely we'll see snow next week? No! And yet...


Oh. Hm. That's unexpected. I guess I'll need to break out the boots. And the cookie sheets. Snickerdoodles? Chocolate chip? Peanut butter? Shortbread? So many options.

In other news, tonight Iain and I had this conversation:

"What are you going to dream about tonight?"
"Food."
"Really? What kind of food?"
"Grilled cheese."
"Oh, ok."

???

Running, Working, Talking on the Phone

This morning, downstairs, Iain ran through the hallway to the den. He ran. Not his special, patented fast-toddle, but real running. He's 2.5 and that's the first time I've really seen him run.

Meanwhile, his verbal skills remain interesting, if not exceptional. Last night he walked around with an old digital kitchen timer, holding it to his cheek. "No, I won't be home," he said, "I have to work." Then he took up his broom and walked around the living room sweeping and saying, "I'm working. I'm busy working!"

Mom and Dad, of course, are *actually* busy working. Last week was a madhouse of service projects, lectures, discussions and activities plus soccer games and socializing. This week is parent/teacher conferencing, both for my students and Iain. Joy!

So today we're taking it easy. Oh, wait. We're not. We went to the store (Halloween candy!), Charles is killing the Vinca (it's a family trait to have awesome plant-killing skills), and I've been changing all the sheets, doing the laundry, and tidying the kitchen. That bag? What bag? Oh, the bag of grading I brought home? Not now. I'm too busy.

Tractor! [And Brine Shrimp]

I forgot to mention the number one attraction of the Salt Lake Marina parking lot: a tractor. It was pretty neat, actually, and since the place was deserted Iain got a close-up look. Mrs. C. helped him out, and I'm sure her upstate Kentucky tractor experience helped.

Then it was time to head down to the beach. Iain led the way, with his staff bringing up the rear (as is fitting). Once there, though, we noticed a strange sort of sludge all along the waterline. Below, see Miriam's cutie sneakers and the gritty kitty quality of the sand.


What is that stuff? And why does it smell like rotting fish? Or decomposing brains? Or half-composted guts? Or pickled dinosaur toenails???


That's not sand. Not. Sand. In fact, I think it's something...organic.

When we first moved here I heard a reference to "brine shrimp." I asked Lawrence, "Can you eat them?" and he looked at me funny. Now I know why.

Gross, y'all.

Father and Son at the Salt Lake

Above, Charles and Iain walking along the (grody) edge of the lake. Iain was totally engrossed with the water, and seemed unaware of the stench. He kept asking, "Is this Tiki Beach?" [for those of you who do not mumble lines from The Backyardigans in your sleep, that's a line from an episode devoted to surfing.]

It was an overcast day. In his navy and denim, Iain looked fairly cute in person. On camera? He's 17:
Seriously, how big does he look in that picture? It's like he went from 2.5 to fully grown in one morning. He still has that toddler face, though. The one that says, "Wha??"

Can't Take Her Anywhere

Miriam comes to visit. Here's the day-by-day breakdown:

Evening 1: At the airport, I see the father and grandfather of one of my students. We walk to dinner, and on the way a car passes. I hear "Oy!" It's a group of my students, yelling their hellos as they pass.

Day 2: We go for coffee. As we pull into the cafe, we see a friend in the parking lot, walking her poodle. Later, we go for a walk and run into one of my students and her mother.

Day 3: Croissants at Tulie. At the next table is a young woman who works up the hill at Mazza, and to whom I once gave the phone number of a shy friend. Sitting at the window bar...one of my students. She's doing her Calculus homework.

Day 4: We go for brunch. Entering as we leave: Susan from Iain's camp. We join the throng to say hello, because she's wonderful.

Last night, after Miriam flew away, Charles and I walked Iain to the park. On the way back we saw our neighbor across the street and our neighbor around the corner (who also works with me).

This is a small town, y'all.

For Future Reference - Waffles

Iain at the Great Salt Lake

This morning when Charles suggested that we "replenish our waffle supply," I was willing. But ther recipe..the recipe...

For a while I was making waffles so much that I could whip up a batch without thinking. But we stopped making waffles during The Heat Nightmare, and now that it's cool again my brain is focused on things like how to decorate the house for Halloween.*

So I had to Google the recipe. Bad times. Annoyed Mama. In order to avoid such problems in future, here's the basic recipe:

2 cups flour, 2T sugar, 1T baking powder, 1/2t salt, mix in a bowl. In a large measuring cup: 1 and 3/4 cups milk, 1T vanilla extract, 6T vegetable oil, 2 large eggs and the zest of one large orange or two small ones. Add orange extract if you can find it (!) (Grr!). Mix the two with your whisk, then cook in 1/3 cup measures in the waffle iron.

Whew!



*We wondered whether Salt Lake would celebrate Halloween. Some places are much, much more interested in Halloween than others. But this week (ok, the second week of October - 2 full weeks before Halloween) houses all over the 'hood have been colonized by giant spiders. Their yards are graveyards ("Susan - worked to death"). One house even has a man tied to the stake, kindling bunched at his feet. There are witches, stocks, skeletons, bats, black cats, pumpkins and webs galore. So we bought a large pumpkin today. Because I don't want to be That House.

Did I Mention the Neighbors?

My neighbor Linda is a master gardener. She's lived in her house since she was a girl, and somehow her tiny lot (just the same size as ours and most everyone else in the city) contains corn, beans, raspberries, apricots, pears, apples, blackberries, currants, squash, greens, tomatoes...who knows what else? Oh, and flowers, of course. She was the first person on the block to dig up her yard, she tells me, and go low-water.

So yesterday she came over with a couple of bags. What you see is a portion of the loot. I am roasting the heirlooms in the oven, and the squash will probably go the same way (with some cracked pepper and thyme from my garden). But the pears can be eaten fresh and whole, just like these cherry tomatoes.

Best of all, she told Charles that we have to come and get more before it's too late. Aye, aye, Ma'am! I'll be right over.

Who wants to come visit? No fighting!

Yay!

There's a street party Monday, and we're invited!

In case you forgot: our street in Lexington had a party. We were not invited. We lived on a cul-de-sac. So one night we came home to find the end of the street cordoned off, speakers on stands, a band, and every single neighbor partying away. They played 'till about midnight, while we lay in bed and listened.

Wah. We're pathetic.

But hark! What street party doth yonder break? I came home today to find a flyer taped to our mail flap. It's an invitation to the street party, where we'll be eating BBQ and hanging out with our neighbor peeps and generally being all neighborly.

And get this: the flyer openly says that we're not getting a permit. We're just roping off the street "old-style" which apparently means chairs and a ladder! I love these people!

Bitter Bitter Bitter

Maybe I'm just tired. But here's what I think:

If you hang a huge sign outside your store, advertising 70% off, you should expect that shoppers will be looking for the sale merchandise.

And if, in fact, you've only put on sale two small racks of crammed-together stuff in a tiny closet in the back, then you fail to provide any signage, then your employees choose not to greet any customers (including those who wander the store for half an hour looking for a gift)...

Get ready for me to be annoyed with you.

I love cute boutiques. I love local stores. But really? I felt like I was unwelcome, and like your sign was a sham. You know who you are, at the corner of 9th and 9th.

Fresh!

The bread is fresh, made by yours truly. The picture is sideways. No idea why, but I think Blogger should think about therapy.

Iain loves to tell us what's "fresh" these days. You may recall that the day before yesterday he informed me that car tires can be both fresh and flat. Tonight, at the park, the rocks merited his seal of "fresh" approval.

As for me, I'm not-so-fresh. Our schedules are just nuts. Charles was away all weekend, and returned Monday night. Meanwhile, my calendar is filling like the steerage decks of the Titanic. Yesterday it was walk to work (departure time: 6:45am), teach all day, join Charles to fetch Iain from school, dinner with KP and friends, a Spike Lee lecture at the university, then home. Today was pretty normal, but tomorrow includes a full day of teaching, a soccer game at 4, then Back-to-School night from 6:30 until 9:30. Friday's fully booked and Saturday we're going to watch Kill Bill and munch popcorn with friends.

Gah!

So when did I find a moment to make bread? Well...a girl's gotta eat. So I wrote down a random internet version of Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day and mixed up a batch. The recipe works like a charm, makes yummy bread to which you can add whatever you like (I added some olive oil and herbs de provence this time, for instance), and takes practically no talent for baking (I'm not really a bread-baking person).

As Iain likes to say, "Try it."

Kouign Amman - Possibly the Best Thing Evar

David Lebovitz knows things. See here. I read his post, I drooled a little, I forgot.

But what a weird name. How do you even say that? And Brittany. The Palace of Butter. Mmm...I bet that's tasty.

Imagine my shock and delight when I saw that our neighborhood pleasure palace (Caputo's), decided to make Kouign Amann.

I bought one, and I almost had to start making phone calls right there in the car. Phone calls like this: "OMG, you have to get on a plane RIGHT NOW!" And "I'm having an existential crisis. Can you be in love with a pastry like you're in love with William T. Sherman?"*

So for those of you planning to come and visit us...here's something to look forward to.



*That second one might be a personal thing. But I bet I'm not the only one with a tender spot for Sherman.

Day of Delicious

One last set of photos to prove (definitively!) the awesomeness of the Children's Garden at Red Butte:
Yep, that's a waterfall. With a pond. With goldfish and stepping stones.

But what about Mom? you ask. And rightly so. Yes, there's a spot for Mom. She can sit and watch the fun in her shady splendor:

Seriously - could anything be more wonderful? No. It's good we've cleared that up.

My doors are open, people. Come ahead and I'll ply you with crusty bread and apricots poached in vanilla syrup. Plopped onto some Greek yogurt...well...this is a family blog. I don't want to get too explicit.

[Call me! I'll tell all.]

What Daddy Does When Iain Gets a Scrape

First, guess what we saw on our walk last night? Yup. A snake. We think it's a gopher snake, but it's hard to tell when you don't go pick it up, look closely at it, study herpetology for 20 years, and grow up here. But we think it's a gopher snake. It's hiney was in that hole on the left, but it really doesn't look like a rattler. Still, it was a snake. We walked in the other direction.

Back to the title. Iain fell on the porch the day before yesterday, and he got a pretty good scrape on his left knee. I gave him cuddles, band-aids, neosporin, and ice cream. Charles gave him this:


Take one guess which one got him to stop crying? Here's a hint: it wasn't the ice cream.

Dads know things. Like how to make 2-story bridges.

Red Butte Gardens, Part 3

Lest you get the impression that Red Butte is nothing but a garden for children, check out the meditation/duck/fish/pond-y garden. When you walk up, there's an enormous fish sculpture to point the way (visible above if you blow up the shot and look between Charles and KP).

The pond behind the screen of trees contains ducks (very forward ducks) and a posse of attitudinal koi. Iain was fascinated, of course, especially because something as simple as a duck launching off the dock, flying 5 feet, then settling onto the water seems magical when you've never seen anything like that before.

If one is feeling tired, or meditative, or a bit of sunstroke, the Japanese-style pavilion and benches await. Though this is intended for anyone, it had an appreciative audience of children, probably drawn to the quiet, the shade, and the sound of splashing and quacking.

Weeping Blue Atlas Cedar

You know we're planning the garden. Our back (side) yard is basically an L-shaped blank slate. There are a few things we already know: we want to incorporate elements of Japanese gardens; we want to use bamboo; and we want this tree.

It's a Weeping Blue Atlas Cedar, and it's fantastic. In our neighborhood, you can see them big and small, trained to hang sideways and trained to look like the demonic finger of the Dark Lord. But Red Butte Gardens offers 2 examples that take the cake.

Above, a specimen that dribbles its branches and spines here, there, and everywhere. It occupies a space probably about 20 feet in diameter. Below, the same kind of tree, this time trained to creep over the welcoming arch. Note the demonic finger bit on the left. I love this tree.


And that arch? Oh, it's the entrance to Iain's new favorite place, where the fountains invite little people to take off their shoes, roll up their trousers, and dip their liberated toes in chilly water.