Category Archives: winter, light

Nature of the Neighborhood

winter, light

We’ve been spending the majority of our time during the pandemic and work from home experience in south central Pennsylvania, but occasionally we do need to dip back into our usual domain of Arlington, Virginia. One one of these occasions a couple of weeks ago, I decided to take a “walk on the wild side” on the Windy Run Trail.

This trail is only a short distance from our home, but offers a semi-wilderness-like tangle of trees and underbrush arrayed along a babbling stream (Windy Run, obviously). Although as you progress toward my usual goal, a dramatic bluff over-looking the Potomac River, the rushing sound of the stream gives way to the steam of rush-hour on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, which you cross under.

The day I sojourned along the trail, there were few other people astir, just a few dog walkers on close to the trail head. As I went deeper into the woods and up and down the steep portions on this muggy day, the air felt heavy and instead of feeling energized by the nature all around me, I began to feel slightly uneasy. I came for a short escape to nature, but the trees and the atmosphere started pressing down on me.

When I reached the underpass, the feeling accelerated. Graffiti referencing the killing of George Floyd was writ large along the metal beams. I caught my own breath as the full weight of the message “I can’t breathe” brought me back to the reality of our troubled country.

There is no escaping the news, the angry division of people, the fear and uncertainty. Nor should there be. It is the time and space we live in and must all confront daily. We live side by side with nature and human history, both at times beautiful but often ugly and disheartening.

I passed under the bridge with the traffic roaring above me and got to the other side. I stood on the high bluff gazing at the muddy waters of the Potomac. I felt a mix of emotions – awe at how untamed nature can still appear but cognizant of the fact that humans still fight so hard to control it, and each other.

Roll on, mighty river. Bring us some hope for better days.

The intersection of nature and human construction.
Out of the suburbs and into the woods.
Reality check.
A view perhaps similar to what the early Patawomeks, on whose land I stood, might have encountered?

Creative COVID Content

winter, light

Getting creative is necessary in our “new normal.” Connecting creatively. Cooking creatively. Protesting creatively.

Along those lines, I have dusted off the sewing machine, tried new recipes, and – maybe most fun of all – started collaging with my friend Martha. I will admit, when Martha asked me if I wanted to “collage with her” via Skype, I said, “Huh?”

Collage seemed like something that went out with macrame (though I hear that is coming back, too?). But, since there are many old magazines around our premises just begging to be cut up and then recycled, I agreed to give it a try.

So, every couple of weeks, we call each other and chat while gluing little pieces of cut up magazines and other paper and even maybe fabric scraps onto pieces of paper to create some kind of artistic thing. The last two times I made cards, which to me seemed more useful than a potential wall hanging.

I am practical-minded, obviously, but the product is not the point. Its the companionship, the chat we have about whatever comes to mind or happened that day or week, which comes simultaneously with the art-making, that is the real exchange here.

In other creative endeavors, I have made some face masks out of old sewing projects for family and friends. I realized that some of the material in my scrap drawer is over 30 years old, but fabric doesn’t expire and it’s good to work it into something everyone is using everyday now (or should be use, but that is another story we won’t get into here).

As for cooking creatively, this can mean using whatever is in your pantry, or even engaging in a little friendly competition. My buddies (who I used to eat lunch with in the office) and I decided to stage a “pie baking competition” over July 4 weekend. Their’s were a lot prettier and more creatively crusted than mine, but we declared everyone a winner anyhow.

I just wish we had been able to share the pies with one another. Some day soon, we can all still hope. Meanwhile, we do what we can to stay connected.

Rainbow card collage. I sent it to my mom who likes rainbows.
Sort of a sunrise or sunset type of feel. It’s all in the interpretation, right?
Masks for my mom and sister. I can’t even recall what I originally made out of these cotton fabrics !
One crust pie with bumpy orange surface decorated with orange flowers on either side.
Sweet potato pie which I tried to make prettier by photographing with day lilies! It tasted good at least even if it wasn’t really that pretty!

Life On (the) Line: Missing the Mall

Smithsonian Folklife Festival, winter, light,

My Google photo feed sends me down memory lane with “revisit this day x years ago” and it is painful. The photos this week were all of past Smithsonian Folklife Festivals, where I would have been this year.. except that didn’t work out, right?

For over thirty years, until last year, I’ve been on the National Mall on July 4. It was just another work day, albeit one usually with even more people than usual especially toward the end of the day. And a staff barbecue and fireworks at the end.

This year we went digital, Beyond the Mall, on Facebook Live and YouTube, schedule here. (if you missed the live programs you can watch the recorded versions.) Our team worked on the June 24, July 2 and July 5 programs. It was a lot of work, but nothing compared to the intense planning and execution of doing the Festival on the Mall.

Several members of the Festival staff commented that they didn’t miss the triple H weather (hazy, hot and humid) and the pop-up thunderstorms. But that was all part of the package that came with in-person camaraderie with staff, volunteers, interns, participants, visitors. Hugs and handshakes and sharing good food and laughs.

Will we be back on the Mall next year? We really hope so. And if we are, we will complain about the heat and humidity just as much as always. But if we can gather together and do what we do best, it will be worth it.

Here are some of my photos from past Festivals. Visit us online and keep wishing and hoping for a better next year!

In 2018, we had our Bengali visitors in DC during the Festival. Here they shared our July 4 staff barbecue with a couple of our interns.
2017 “Circus Science” tent with our clown educator friends from the Sarasota, Florida Circus Academy.
2016 Basque program kid’s area, the Txiki Txoko. How many times did we grouse about being swamped by summer day camps in their matching t-shirts? Bring ’em on!

Life in Lockdown

winter, light, ,

Blogging in the time of the pandemic is, well, sort of boring. Not much really happens, so there’s not much to write about. And, people are so sick of screens that I’m not sure they need any more reading-on-a-screen.

But, still, what is a blog for anyhow? Mine, because I have relatively few readers, is as much a chronicle of where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing than something I think will ever go viral or have hundreds, much less thousands, of readers.

And, so, as usual I go through my latest photos to see what I’ve found interesting or important to document. Much of them had to do with getting outside in our portion of rural PA. Enjoy if you have not been able to do so yourself and stay safe!

We”ve been taking a lot of long walks in the woods. Finding new parks and new trails.
I take a lot of photos of plants, sort of a digital herbarium. Then you can check their identity with a Google i.d. tool. This is mayapple which I should have known!)
Revamp of garden previously mostly rocks and weeds! Thanks to our landscaping buddy, Tim, and his marvelous little digger.
The late spring has meant more time to appreciate cherry blossoms. These were on the campus of the Mercersburg Academy.
Driving around rural Pennsylvania you inevidibly come across some interesting industrial history like these old coke ovens that fed the steel industry in earlier times. Now a good place for wildflowers to grow.
and theres this on nights when it’s clear…

Guadalajara: Love at First Bite

tourism, winter, light, , ,

Guadalajara, and the area within a couple of hours of the city in its state of Jalisco, is a winter vacationer’s paradise. Warm, balmy days in the mid-70s to low 80s, slightly cooler nights good for a stroll, and plenty of attractions.

I meant to start writing about our wonderful visit there much earlier, but soon after our return, I got felled by some sort of flu. (NOT the dreaded corona virus, I promise – there are still plenty of nasty old garden variety flus out there to content with.)

Now, I am looking over the photos and remembering the great time we had, and especially all the delicious meals. Instead of a lot of writing about the food, here is a photo gallery and commentary about some of our many tasty experiences.

  • Most of these food adventures were led by our friend Gaby and her dad and sometimes her mom. They never steered us wrong! Second day (I was too tired to document the first though wish I had), breakfast on the road to Lake Chapala. The cafe had a French name but the food was all local!
  • My birthday dinner – seafood on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest lake.
  • No, the shrimp are not from the lake…but they were very fresh. The coast is only a few hours away and seafood is very popular even inland.
  • Another lakeside resaturant (different lake, same feel) and more shrimp!
  • Tasty stand on a side street of Tonales.
  • Typical condiments at small stands which feature tacos, quesadillas and other snacks and lunch items
  • Along with your tastes of tequila on a factory tour (in Tequila of course), you get to taste roasted agave. Sort of like a very sweet and stringy pineapple.
  • Meat in its juices is a popular dish.
  • Tortillas (always corn) and condiments (limes, salsas of various heat) along with MEAT!
  • We took a cooking class; here our instructor Naomi had all the ingredients laid out in a colorful array awaiting our lesson.
  • Fish tacos, and so much more. We certainly left full to the brim.
  • Another mostly meat meal at a delicious authentic cantina (singers offering off-key serenades and all) in Zapopan. This one includes four kinds of meat, melted cheese, guacamole and salsas. I lost count of the number of tortillas I wrapped it in and gobbled down!
  • Many flavors of agua fresca to choose from in Zapopan.
  • And, last but not least, one must try the “drunken sandwich” – more meat, this time on bread.
  • And dunked in a liberal amount of hot sauce. It’s a thing that they say you have to try in all the guide books, but the locals like our friend Gaby and her parents discourage it.

OK, so for some mysterious reasons the captions (though I can see them in post editing mode) are not showing up on this post. So, here they are until I figure this problem out:

  1. Most of these food adventures were led by our friend Gaby and her dad and sometimes her mom. They never steered us wrong! Second day (I was too tired to document the first though wish I had), breakfast on the road to Lake Chapala. The cafe had a French name but the food was all local!
  2. My birthday dinner – seafood on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest lake.
  3. No, the shrimp are not from the lake… but they were very fresh. The coast is only a few hours away and seafood is very popular even inland.
  4. Next day, another lakeside restaurant (different lake, same feel) and more shrimp!
  5. Tasty lunch stand on a side street of Tonales, where we visited many crafts shops for souvenirs.
  6. Typical condiments at small stands which feature tacos, quesadillas and other snacks and lunch items.
  7. Along with your tastes of tequila on a factory tour (in Tequila of course), you get to taste roasted agave. Sort of like a very sweet and stringy pineapple.
  8. Meat “in its juices” is a popular dish and it is delish!
  9. Tortillas (always corn) and condiments (limes, salsas of various heat) along with MEAT!
  10. We took a cooking class; here our instructor Naomi had all the ingredients laid out in a colorful array awaiting our lesson.
  11. Fish tacos, shredded pork roast cooked in banana leaves, chorizo and potatoes… oh my, we were so full by the end of the class!
  12. Another mostly meat meal at a delicious authentic cantina (singers offering off-key serenades and all) in Zapopan. This one includes four kinds of meat, melted cheese, guacamole and salsas. I lost count of the number of tortillas I wrapped it in and gobbled down!
  13. Many flavors of agua fresca (a refreshing fruit drink) in Zapopan.
  14. And, last but not least, one must try the “drunken sandwich” – more meat, this time on bread.
  15. And dunked in a liberal amount of hot sauce. It’s a thing that they say you have to try in all the guide books, but the locals like our friend Gaby and her parents discourage it.

Getting the Hang of It

Central Pennsylvania, McConnellsburg, The Pulpit, travel, winter, light, , ,

“Let’s go jump off a mountain!” No thanks. Standing cautiously on the very top a ramp that ends in nothingness makes me queasy. I take in the view, but step back to safety seconds later.

  • One wonders what happened to this gentleman.
  • Behold the giant thumb!

Visiting The Pulpit, a hang gliders dream launch spot near our vacation cabin above McConnellsburg, PA is a must to take in the splendors of south central Pennsylvania. The rocky promontory, located a little ways beyond the iconic biker beer joint The Mountain House, apparently got its name from a visiting preacher who expounded from the stony perch.

Up a small rock strewn slope, there are two wooden (and, to me, sort of creaky looking) ramps, one smaller than the other. If you go at sunrise, which I never do because I prefer my warm bed at that hour, you can face east and get a glorious view over the ridges. At sunset (the better option in my opinion), you get the view over the town, the farmland and to the western mountains.

One of the many interns who lived with us temporarily over the years, Anneke from Germany, came to the cabin with us one wintry weekend about ten years ago. We walked to the Pulpit and she met some intrepid hang gliders from the club that frequents the site. She fell instantly in love with the idea of learning to hang glide, or, she later decided, to paraglide.

If you think hang gliding sounds risky, paragliding is even more crazy. Instead of jumping off a ramp into nothingness strapped to some substantial wings, you jump into nothingness tethered to a wide parachute held precariously by a bunch of thin ropes. She successfully mastered this bizarre hobby, and last time I checked she was still alive and well.

The view is thrilling enough for me. Leave flying to the birds.

Pawpaws to the People!

tourism, travel, winter, light

It’s pawpaw season, and festivals celebrating this regional native fruit are popping up all over. Visiting one of these seemed like the folkloric thing to do, and in fact I couldn’t believe that I had somehow reached my advanced age and had not done so already.

The Pawpaw Festival in Albany, Ohio (near Athens, and also near the United Plant Savers sanctuary which my adventurous colleague and partner in crime, Arlene, and I were visiting this week) is, I would dare say, one of the biggest in the country. We spent a couple of hours there experiencing All Things Pawpaw.

First, the taste. Upon arrival, we sought out the free sample tent where we could set the mood. Volunteers sliced us a big hunk and explained that you just squeeze the soft, yellowish pulp out of the rind, and swirl the big dark pits around in your mouth to get all the good stuff off them. (Then throw them out because they are poisonous if chewed and consumed, apparently.)

Next we found the craft beer tent, where for a few bucks you could try a variety of pawpaw brews (and take the glass home to boot). We listened to a band that defied genre classification, and then made our way to the food court. We sampled an Indonesian satay with pawpaw peanut sauce, and later tried Thai mango sticky rice with pawpaw mousse.

There were also vendors selling pawpaw bread, official paw paw festival t-shirts with designs dating several years back, and pawpaw plants. (As well as a lot of non-paw paw-related stuff.) We were saddened to have missed the pawpaw cook-off.

A full harvest moon rose over the festival grounds, as we finally admitted paw paw overload. Still, I insisted on stopping by the free sample tent one more time to leave with the sweet custardy taste still lingering on my taste buds.

  • Kombucha in various pawpaw flavors (still tastes I assume like vinegar)
  • Pawpaw peanut sauce is a winner in my mind.
  • This is what a pawpaw tree looks like.
  • There were no pawpaws in the coffee thank goodness.

Tasteful Ginseng Adventures

#ginseng, summer, winter, light, ,

My latest excuse for not posting for awhile is having been off in “undisclosable locations” within several Appalachian states learning more about the ever fascinating American ginseng. My trusty colleague Arlene has been my companion on these trips. We were sworn by our hosts to secrecy…we dutifully un-geo-located our photos. I will not speak of those adventures here.

I found that ginseng can be found closer to home, however, though the roots may have traveled a bit to get here. In Northern Virginia you can buy fresh ginseng in the local Korean grocery store, HMart. This is not be the same sort of ginseng which grows wild (or “wild simulated”) in the mountainous woods, but its pale, fat, cultivated cousin. Hmart’s ginseng is of unknown provenance, but it is probably from Wisconsin, Ontario, or… who knows, maybe it came all the way from Korea where they also cultivate ginseng. Then it would be Asian ginseng, another related species. But that is a whole other story.

I invited my summer interns over to dinner, and procured some of this $39.99/pound version. (This may sound expensive but the same weight in wild ginseng would cost several hundred dollars.) I threw a liberal amount of slices into a pot with some chicken breasts along with some onions, ginger, dried hot peppers, and salt. This concoction simmered for about an hour, and viola – my own version of a Korean staple, ginseng chicken soup.

We used slices of the chicken as the protein in some Vietnamese-inspired summer rolls. But not before I made the interns all slurp up some of the ginseng chicken broth and give their opinions on the taste. After all, they had just spent the better part of the summer researching and writing about ginseng, but they had not tasted any except in candies.

“Not bad,” was the verdict on the broth, and the chicken had a nice, slightly bitter, slightly sweet flavor that complemented the crunchy veggies and soft noodles in the rolls. (Not to take anything away from the ginseng experience, but the spicy peanut dipping sauce was the real star of the show.)

Everyone left that evening a little wiser, a little healthier, and having completed their ginseng education for the summer. As for Arlene and me, our ginseng adventures will continue. Stay tuned.

Tomato Time

tomatoes; garden, winter, light, , ,

The 100+ heat index last week was good for at least one thing: hastening the ripening of the tomatoes in our “suburban vegetable farm.” The moment the backyard gardener waits all year for, that first juicy flavorful bite that banishes all memory of the sad waxy things passing for tomatoes the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, that first bite is sometimes taken by some other creature than yourself. Grab onto a big delicious looking specimen, and you may encounter a messy, gooey, open wound. Chipmunk, squirrel, bird, or something else that comes by night and chews…no matter, damage done and hopefully something left to salvage.

Most of our tomatoes were grown from seed. This year, I got several varieties from the Gurney seed company because they had a sweet introductory discount. I was intrigued by a variety called Mortgage Lifter, explained (at a farm museum I toured last spring) as being so prolific that it raised Depression era farmers out of debt. Makes a good story, and, if I have figured correctly, a good tomato too.

“Figuring correctly” is what one must do in our garden, since the varieties of tomatoes somehow always get mixed up between the seedlings and the planting, no matter how I try to keep them labeled. So you just have to wait for them to mature to find out what sort of tomato they will produce. Even then, I am not sure sometimes, especially since I purchased a “rainbow” package of heirloom seeds with a number of varieties mixed in. Is it a Cherokee Purple or a Black Krim? Is this one going to stay yellow or has it just not started turning red yet?

  • I call this “BT toast.”

Who cares, really. They are all yummy. If you don’t have your own, go find a farm stand or a farmer’s market and pay whatever it cost for a few pounds. It’s the essence of summer, and it’s gone all too soon.

Ramping it Up in West Virginia

winter, light,

When we told the uninitiated that we were going to attend a “ramp dinner” in West Virginia a few weeks ago, they looked at us funny. “How can you make a dinner out of a ramp?” my husband asked, thinking of those slanty metal things that you use as an alternative to stairs.

Ramps, for those of you who also don’t know, are a type of wild leek found in the hills of Appalachia, in some of the same places you find ginseng. They are not worth as much money, but they are tasty and becoming a delicacy that fetch fancy prices in gourmet circles. But for most West Virginia’s, they are just an edible sign of spring and a way for some local organizations to stage a fundraiser.

My intrepid fellow traveler, Arlene, and I set off on a rainy Sunday morning from my house in Arlington, VA, speeding toward Bomont, West Virginia to make it to the ramp dinner at the H.E. White Elementary School before all the food ran out. When we pulled up in our rented VW bug convertible (it was the only compact car the rental agency had left), there were hardly any parking spaces left in and around the school. We knew we were in the right place, because: 1. Bomont is a very small, 2. There was a very large “Ramp Dinner” sign attached to the chain link fence of the school’s playground.

We payed our $10 and got in line for our ramp feast: ramps sauteed in bacon fat, ramps in fried potatoes, and a host of accompaniments, washed down with sweet or unsweet sassafras tea. We chatted up some locals, and soon our friend and colleague, Emily, who lives and works in Charleston, joined us. (Read more about her in my entry on Helvetia.)

We were in ramp heaven! Since we were going to be traveling around WV for the next few days, we were not tempted to bid on the leftover raw ramps which got auctioned off toward the end of the dinner. But, later in the trip, near Elkins, we did come across a large sign along the highway, outside an outdoor store: “Ramps Now Available.” Arlene doubted that they meant the edible kind, but we turned around to investigate anyhow. There, in the glass-fronted refrigerator in the corner, were plastic garbage bags full of the kind of ramps we still craved and wanted to try cooking ourselves.

In downtown Elkins, we noticed more ramp evidence on several t-shirts on display or offered for sale at some of the shops, one stating that “ramps don’t smell, people do.” As we had found out from eating big helpings in Bomont, ramps do cause you to – how do I say this delicately? – emit smelly fumes after their consumption.

Regardless, we highly recommend them. I sauteed mine in butter, not being a really big bacon fat fan, and scrambled some of them with eggs. Yum. Also, thanks to Marion Harless the “herbarist” we visited and interviewed before returning home, I learned the rudiments of planting the bulbs, which are now safely nestled under shrubs in my backyard. Tune in a couple of years from now to see if the ramp saga continues on home turf.