13 Wednesday Feb 2019
Tags
#snowyday, #wordlesswednesday, after the rain, after the snow, flood, Salzer Valley, snowmageddon, snowpocalypse, wordless wednesday
Posted by Gretchen Staebler | Filed under wordless wednesday, writingdownthestory in Photograph
06 Wednesday Feb 2019
30 Wednesday Jan 2019
Tags
#wordlesswednesday, fog, Mt. St. Helens, Salzer Valley, Seminary HIll, sunrises, wordless wednesday
Posted by Gretchen Staebler | Filed under wordless wednesday, writingdownthestory in Photograph
23 Wednesday Jan 2019
Tags
#wordlesswednesday, astonishment, lunar eclipse, Mary Oliver, Messenger poem, wordless wednesday
Posted by Gretchen Staebler | Filed under wordless wednesday, writingdownthestory in Photograph
16 Wednesday Jan 2019
Posted by Gretchen Staebler | Filed under wordless wednesday, writingdownthestory in Photograph
09 Wednesday Jan 2019
Tags
#lasttriponAlaskanWayviaduct, #wordlesswednesday, Alaskan Way viaduct, Bertha, commuting in Seattle, seattle, tunnels, wordless wednesday, wordy Wednesday
For three of the last five school years, I have driven into Seattle on the Alaskan Way viaduct nearly every Monday to care for one or the other grandchild, and back across the next day. Trust me when I say it’s been the highlight of the drive, otherwise traveled on Interstate 5.
This week was the last time. The high roadway flanked on one side by Puget Sound with the sparkling Olympics on the horizon (on clear days) and ferries, cruise liners, and barges and the Emerald City on the other side closes permanently this weekend. When it’s torn down, the penthouse dwellers will have their view unsullied by the eyesore of the roadway far below them; and the lowly commuter will travel underground in a two-mile long yellow tunnel.
The new tunnel entrance
In the three weeks while they connect the north end of the tunnel with Highway 99, the 90,000 cars that travel the viaduct every day will be on already overcrowded I-5. Next week I’m not going. Then I will figure out some alternate timing for the duration. And will they really get it done in three weeks? Remember Bertha, the tunnel driller that got stuck?
I won’t miss the elderly short tunnel at the end of the viaduct. Remember when it collapsed on Grey’s Anatomy a few seasons back? Or the real life time not too long ago when the automatic sprinklers came on and drivers couldn’t see a thing? Then there was just last month when I drove it and the “tunnel closed, do not enter” lights came on when it was too late to abort and I had to sit in the full tunnel until whatever closed it was cleared trying not to hyperventilate.
I will brave the tunnel (I am not fond of any long tunnel, think Princess Diana) until it becomes a toll road in June or so. When my weekly gig is over forever when school’s out (another sadness), I will probably just do the crappy interstate drive through the city on the occasional visit to the Littles to avoid the toll. Or maybe I’ll just get the darn Good to Go pass.
A cloud and I commiserated together as I drove the last few miles to the viaduct on Monday, after the relief of exiting I-5.
On Tuesday evening, I approached the lower deck of the viaduct for the last time, heading back home. Goodbye old friend.
02 Wednesday Jan 2019
Posted by Gretchen Staebler | Filed under wordless wednesday, writingdownthestory in Photograph
26 Wednesday Dec 2018
19 Wednesday Dec 2018
Moments after publishing the post about missing my mother at Christmas, there she was. The sky went from grey, to this, and back to grey.
19 Wednesday Dec 2018
Tags
#daughteronduty, #notesfromthreeofearthfarm, christmas decorations, Christmas tree, creche, Daughter Off Duty, death of a parent, Notes from Three of Earth Farm, unusual creches
I don’t decorate my Christmas tree the same way each year, and this year my thought was to go minimalist. It’s kind of a minimalist year. My Seattle family is off to Virginia on the Sunday night red eye. My local sister works her make-it-or-break-it-at-Christmas retail business until well into the evening everyday in December right up to Christmas Eve. My Virginia sister and family aren’t arriving until Christmas night.
And my mom is gone.
Maybe just lights, I thought. But, as is my born-in-childhood custom, my tree is not a perfect full-figured cone affair, manicured well beyond its natural shape on a farm; and there was a good-sized hole that lights could not fill. Kind of like the hole the absence of my parents—newly enlarged by my mother’s death in April—has left in my heart.
“Hang your stocking there,” my daughter said. Good idea! And so I dragged out the box of decorations after all. Turns out there were more holes, and I hung three stockings for three daughters, for Three of Earth.
Of course, I also had to set up my snow person crèche with its many visitors to the manger. Because it’s my favorite thing. You know that question, “what would you hate to lose in a fire?” designed to help you get at what physical things are really important to you? My list is extremely short, but my snow person crèche is on it. The guest circle expanded when I moved back into my childhood home and now includes Playskool Bus wise people, hand-painted ceramic angels, cricket musicians, and “dish garden” flamingos. Other childhood favorites have been schlepped from home to home for many years: the broken plastic reindeer, the polka dotted cat on wheels, the skating snow people candles, a chipped snow globe.
Once the box of decorations was out I decided to add “just a few” ornaments. Dragging out another box—and fishing through my mother’s boxes—my Christmas tree is all angels, birds, flying reindeer, and stars. In honor of my mother, wherever you are. May you soar.
May you each experience joyous celebration of loved ones who walk the earth with you, and may peace and thanksgiving fill the hole left by those who have departed.
