The Autumn Of My Years... A Ramble On The Day Before Winter Solstice

"I'm In The Autumn Of My Years" but swingin' like Della

Today is the last day of autumn 2010. In 2 weeks, I will be ending my own autumn, as I officially will be in my late 50s. 2 weeks from today I will be in the winter of my life. I have lived longer than I ever intended to live. But, as Woody Allen stated- “It’s better than the alternative”.


The last 6 weeks have not felt like autumn, but rather like real winter. Living in the Pacific Northwest in December is not for the faint hearted. But, we are all steamed up at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. because tomorrow is not just the darkest day of the year, but for the 1st time since 1554, we will have a full moon experiencing a full lunar eclipse on the Winter Solstice tomorrow night. Portland is forecast to have clear skies, & I plant to witness this event, possibly with a whiskey in my hot tub.


In the beautifully written new volume in his- Tales of The City series: Mary Ann In Autumn, Armistead Maupin says- “The past doesn’t catch up with us, It escapes from us.” I have spent the last few days playing a- “if I just hadn’t done _______, then ______ never would have happened". More on the current situation in a post later this week, but I can say that I am at my lowest in the month of December. My depression deepens & a fog of melancholia creeps into my every wrinkle.

My feelings about Christmas are not simple. I had a happy childhood with more than 18 Christmases that were lovely, loving & lavish. As an only child of upper-middle class working parents & one of only 2 grandchildren of 3 sets of grandparents, I received plenty of presents, & because I was such a little adult, the gifts consisted of mostly books, record albums & clothing. I didn’t care much for toys until I became an adult.

Baby Butch as Baby Jesus 2010 edition

The Post Apocalyptic Bohemian Christmas Tree 2010

Now in the autumn of my years, I like to keep it a simple, as I consider all the people that go without at Christmas . The Husband & I stopped giving each other gifts over 2 decades ago. That is our special gift to each other. Our traditions include the presenting of Baby Butch as the Baby Jesus & our annual tree, cut down in the woods in bitter cold by the husband, brought home on top of the station wagon, covered in blue lights, & placed just outside of the backroom floor to ceiling window. The Christmas tree is close to the major bird feeder & often has 7 or 8 songbirds perched on the branches like glass ornaments. Our birds are well fed & on the plump side, but I can't deny them food & clean water.

The Goldfinch is the State Bird of Washington, so she may be a little lost. But who can blame her? & we are only a few miles from the border here in North Portland.

We will go to a movie on the Holiday; we are thinking about the 1st showing of The King’s Speech. Christmas evening will bring a fire in the fireplace & a prayer for peace & goodwill between all people. I would like to know your traditions. Would you share?

Feeling Squirrely?

I have designed, planned, & executed our garden to attract wildlife. I love to sit in our back room, where the TV is, & watch the feeders for alluring, appealing, adorable avian visitors. We live mere blocks to the mighty Columbia & Willamette Rivers & we have plenty of flying guests. We have spotted an Eagle (with his eye on a terrier dinner, I suppose) Red Tail Hawks, Goldfinches, Scrub Jays, a Woodpecker, & Hummingbirds. I have different feeders with a variety of seeds & suet, & apparently the squirrels love them all.

Fed up with the squirrels feeding frenzy, the Husband & I purchased a “squirrel proof feeder”. Is there such a thing? This item was expensive, but we were didn’t wish to have a winter with hungry avian & fat, satisfied squirrels. The Husband placed the new feeder close to the house for optimum viewing.

The new feeder is now deeper in the garden for the shy birds, but we had a day of gratifying diversion watching a squirrel try & negotiate the new device. This squirrel did not give up & I commend his wholehearted commitment to snatching those seeds. He apparently did not grasp the notion of “squirrel proof”.

The Squirrel lands on the window to prove that he is a HIM & to torment Junior.

 

Today in Post Apocalyptic Bohemian History

Presented by our agent on the day our house became ours- October 8th, 2001. Click on the image to enlarge.

Living in our beloved little cottage in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle, we loved to visit Portland for shopping, dining, & adventure. In the late summer 2001, before the world changed forever, the Husband & I were in Portland visiting friends. We had recently been given news by our very good friends, former next-door-neighbors, & landlords, of a sizable & shocking rent increase. Shocking, because we had lived in the cottage for 15 years, paying low rent, but improving the property with major construction, new windows & doors, decks & walkways, & a stunning & imaginative garden that would stop people who were passing by.


The rent increase was offered up by our landlord friends, a couple who we spent holidays with, traveled with, & gave our hearts to. They had explained that since their move to Mexico, the landlords felt that they were forced to get the best possible rent & no longer afford us a “deal”. Distressing news in any light, but complicated by the announcement that they would also be doing major construction, jacking the 700 square foot hovel up to accommodate their new mother-in-law unit. They would use the new daylight basement apartment when they were in Seattle.


The Husband & I were none to thrilled to pay almost twice as much to live in a major construction zone. After 15 years, we began to question improving someone else’s equity, & we began to explore the possibility of owning our own home. I took a one day class on house purchasing. When we received notice that the amount of our pre-qualified mortgage would get us nothing in Seattle (we could possibly get a studio condo way north or south of the city), we were disheartened.


We loved our house & our neighborhood. The Husband & I had a 20 year history in Seattle. We had decades worth of friends & acquaintances. We had employment, friends, & memories. Discussing our situation while driving around on a visit to Portland, the Husband bolted from our automobile in order to grab the flyer from the Plexiglas holder on a for sale sign of a sweet Portland Victorian with a rose garden. This only confused us. Had the listing left off a zero? You could purchase a quality home on Portland, Oregon for $160,000? We felt as if we were in a haze as we motored around Portland. The Husband suddenly demanded- “stop the car, pull over, pull over! Oh my God, oh my God… we are gonna move to Portland!?!”


I came to ask a handsome interesting gentleman on Gay.com for suggestions & advice about moving & living in this beautiful & cool city. This man insisted that the1st step to relocating to Portland would be to engage Celia as my real estate agent. Celia, along with her charming girlfriend, remain friends to this day. She never seemed to mind picking me up in the morning at Portland’s Union Station, showing 10 houses, & getting me back to the train in time to go back to Seattle.


After a few tries of this method, I knew that the Husband would need to be involved in this important life decision. He joined me for 2 days of house hunting. We hated every house we viewed. We were completely discombobulated, not feeling that we lived in the Seattle cottage & not visualizing living in Portland. Celia, the agent: “well based on all the houses you have seen, which one can we get you into? I am not going to be able to show you your dream house. You need to get into a home, let it increase in value, & in a few years we can look for your next one, taking our time to you find that special home”. Hmm… we didn’t know that it worked like that. We chose the house that seemed to be the best blank slate; the cleanest, least offensive residence that we could move into being householders.


We picked Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. We made an offer, then a counter offer that was accepted by the seller. We didn’t love the house. We cried. The Husband returned to Seattle, & gave a month’s notice at his job. I continued to travel by train between the 2 cities to deal with the business of house buying.

The front door & walkway, summer 2010

9 years ago, on this very day, our house closed & I received the keys. I went to the Title Company office with Celia. I was shaking & crying as I signed paper after paper, as myself, & then as the Husband, as his power of attorney. It was frightening & emotional to purchase our 1st home without my man by my side. To add to the emotion, the next day was our 22nd anniversary, & we would not be together. He was living in our old world & I was starting my 1st day in our new world, but we were separated by 3 hours & a ton of doubt.

New Music... Edward Strong & The Magnetic Zeros

This tune really puts me in a good mood & I love songs about home: This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody), A House Is Not A Home, Take Me Home, The 2 Of Us, Celebrate Me Home. The Husband gets the credit for this one. Never tiring of telling me what to do, he strongly suggested seeking out Edward Sharp & The Magnetic Zeros. I was just hoping he was talking about a band & not our new neighbors. Their sound is rich, dynamic, eclectic: sort of Radiohead + June Carter + Sgt. Peppers era Beatles + FM friendly come to mind.

I really admire the Husband’s taste in music… & in all things. Here is the groovy video for their song Home:

Golden Slumbers... Nap Time At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

Once there was a way, to get back homeward.

Once there was a way, to get back home.

Sleep pretty darling, do not cry.

& I will sing a lullaby.

Golden Slumbers fill your eyes.

Smiles await you when you rise.

Sleep pretty darling, do not cry.

& I will sing a lullaby.

Once there was a way, to get back homeward.

Once there was a way, to get back home.

Sleep pretty darling, do not cry.

& I will sing a lullaby.

Lennon/McCartney
1969

Reverie On A Summer's Slumber

The end of summer, well actually there are 3 weeks left & I will take them. Still, I feel the first smart stinging sorrow that comes over me at summer’s end. August is my favorite month, with 31 days & no holidays. Good bye, August.

Last Sunday our new friends- Peter & Nancy joined us for brunch. The husband, who is the cook in this family, provided a very summer-ish meal of 2 varieties of bruschetta: heirloom tomatoes, fresh basil, & guacamole, & one with grilled asparagus & goat cheese both drizzled with a balsamic reduction. My contribution was a white wine & apricot puree punch. A summer Sunday in the Boys’ Fort with new friends & Portland came through with 64 degrees & rain!

I love that the blue polish on the Husband's toes matches the blue of the hydrangea. Larry the canine concurs.

Nancy remarked that Post Apocalyptic Bohemia suggested & had the sense of a beach bungalow with its rocks & beach glass, boardwalks & grasses, stacks of books, dogs, & barefoot men. We live close enough to the Pacific Ocean that we get cool, salty marine air in the mornings. We are just blocks away from the mighty Columbia River & the north flowing Willamette River, which provides us with visits from gulls, eagles & the occasional beachcomber.

Do you feel like you are at the beach?

Labor Day Weekend may spell the end of summer, but September has always felt like the start of the year, perhaps because I lived a big chunk of my life in academia. The melancholy that comes with summer’s sleep is balanced with the thrill of new pencils, Pee Chee folders, & jockstraps.

One Man's Garbage...

The sweet, sexy, surprising summer evening of the Husband’s house change had its roots on a perfect summer weekend 3 weeks ago. The husband & I were off to the country to see the Barn Boys Big Event.


The Barn Boys hold a huge flea market in the fields & barn of their beautiful farm in Southwest Washington State. The Barn Boys open up their farm twice a year for the greatest flea market ever, & we were going to be there.

The Barn Boys Themselves... I of course have a crush.

A Barn Boy with the Husband in the middle background

We traveled to the event with our good friend Little Jake & his new, hot boyfriend- Special K. As we were close to the Barn Boys’ Farm, there was a major detour, which caused us city boys to get lost. No need to worry, Specials K’s I-Phone had GPS & actually talked us to farm. I was quite impressed & K commenced to showing off his aps.


I had mentioned that I was impressed with the ap that could recognize music & tell you a song & artist of any song. To demonstrate, Little Jake La, La La-ed his way through a tune & the I-phone recognized it as Lady Gaga’s Alejandro. The I-Phone was handed to me, & I sang Cole Porter’s Anything Goes, chorus & verse, perfectly in tune & worthy of a standing ovation, except that we were riding in an SUV. The I-Phone ap’s voice announced- “This song is not recognizable.” I wanted to throttle & stomp on Special K’s phone, but he is a new friend, & the Husband had already begged me to behave.


The Barn Boys’ Barn House Flea Market was a dream come true, & we had much fun on a perfect summer day. Nothing makes me as satisfied as spending some money on some old stuff. Among my treasures was an exquisite vintage garbage can. It was my intention to plant the thing & place it in the garden, but the Husband decided it would become a table. This decision had a domino affect that resulted in a whole bunch of changes at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. Here is the garbage can table in the reconfigured front room:

The garbage can that started it all

Burning Down The House

It started as it has started 100 times in the past 30 years. My Friday night & I wish to do some serious relaxing, The Husband & I have a couple of cocktails & smoke just a tiny bit of Mary Jane while we listen to one of my  terrific custom mix CDs. At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia we believe in flattering light, & the Husband is the master. He was looking particularly handsome & even after 3 decades. I was feeling the love.

I have every reason to believe that he was catching my vibe, because he started in on the old tried & true romance routine: flattering light, cocktails, music… & major changes in the look & layout of the house, That is how the Husband gets his freak on. Nothing makes me as horny as a new look at the house.

That’s right, the Husband moved furniture from room to room, changed out pillows & bedding, re-hung the well hung art & mirrors & even painted. The process always scares me, but the result always puts me “in the mood”. This is what the Husband does best, design, & romance. Here is what he did last night, before we got in the hot tub. It worked for me. This is what happened to our tiny dining room:

Happy Summer Solstice!

Summer came to us in that certain Portland, Oregon style: drizzly, damp, cool- with a high of 60 degrees, & with hope of better weather to come. The longest day of the year had the very shortest bursts of sunlight interrupting the grey & gloom. Post Apocalyptic Bohemia had began to resemble Cold Comfort Farm.

Post Apocalyptic Bohemia, living up to its name in Spring 2010.

There are some gratifying corners of the garden. Cornus Kousa is native to Japan, Korea & China. This small white flowering dogwood was given to us a sapling, as gift from our dear friends & best men at our wedding- Ken & Eiric, in memory of our recently deceased 1st dog- Baby. Baby was a terrier mix, & as a puppy she was almost shamefully cute. She grew to be a real broad though. The Husband described her as the Joan Blondell of the canine world. She was a blond, possessed of full hips that she swung from side to side as she walked, & Baby had a snappy way with a one liner. Her death at 13 from Cushing's Disease, seemed to early to us & we were inconsolable. The boys gave us the tree as her memorial, & it was one of the few plants that we dug up in the pouring rain on our last day in Seattle & transferred to our new garden in Portland. In late spring/early summer the tree is heavy with breathtakingly beautiful blizzard of white  flowers. It produces showy, stunning scarlet leaves in the early autumn, with  blood red berries appearing in the fall & winter attracting songbirds. That is a lot of show from one small tree, but then Baby had come to resemble an aging Vegas showgirl in her later years, complete with a deep raspy voice & a fur coat.

Blossoms from Baby's dogwood. Gone for 12 years, I still grieve. I love this reminder of the old broad.

What a show off the Clemitis Montana is when it gives us a cloud of heavenly white flowers. I had always believed that the hummingbirds are attracted to red flowers exclusively, but I have seen our hummer enjoying the nectar from this Clemitis.

Clemitis Montana... what a show off.

The husband recently re-worked the fountain in the garden pass-through room, & surrounded it with part of my Hosta collection. The fountain head is Bacchus, found by me in the garbage of the display department of the grand old, & now gone department store- Fredericks & Nelson's in downtown Seattle, where I worked for most of the 1980s. He is artifice, plaster & chicken wire made to look like stone.

The water from Bacchus' mouth flows into a tall pot from China. The Husband rigged a pot of hosta over the bowl of the pot, that is held up by bamboo sticks running through the pot. Ingenious, yes?

I am so ready for summer after the endless damp, depressing, depressive, dingy, dismal, dispiriting, doleful, downcast, & drab spring. I look forward to the husband sunning naked on the hot tub deck with Junior by his side (I have great photos of this frequent occurrence. I know the Husband would be furious if I posted one, but I am so very tempted. You readers would like to view that, wouldn't you?).

A Dark, Stormy, Rainy & Lazy Sunday Morning At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

The little bits of "snow" are discarded petals from the Dogwood- Cornus Florida. One plant finishes blooming & then another will up the ante.

Is it a coincidence that I love to play with alliteration, & that I collect Heuchera , Hebes, & Hydrangea? None of these plant groups is in bloom, but the Clematis is showing off this week. I have had Clematis Montana in each of my gardens for the past 25 years. It seems indestructible. You can cut it nearly to the ground & it will grow 20’ in a season. Insects don’t bother it & seems impervious to any disease or problem. I never cut mine back & it has grown at least 30' into the closest trees, a large dogwood, & a white pine. In full bloom it looks like a low hanging billowing cloud. Clematis Etoile Violette came into bloom in the last few days, & unlike me, they seem to really have enjoyed the week of rain.

Even Larry & Junior are unmotivated.

I've got real balls!

I collect orbs. From marbles to bowling balls to globes, I am drawn to round objects.

This photo is a gathering of just a few out of more than 100.

A Quick Trip Around The Grounds At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia?

Well... it is lovely to have you stop by. Do you have time for a cocktail? There is always time for a cocktail.

A small water feature near the front door has goldfish to take care of moquitoes.

Standing on the front porch looking towards the street.

It is true... everything at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is made from used/reclaimed/salvaged materials...

A few corner views of the front garden.

 Let's stop in the kitchen for that cocktail, then head for the back garden for a little chat. There is seating for company in the back garden.

Larry the canine waiting for the guests.

The Husband reminds Larry about the importance of using sunscreen.

 One of my favorite pieces by the Husband- Terrace Queen.

                                                         
No, not autumn, but it is springtime in blossom for a huge Cornus Florida in the back garden. Photo by Little Jake's swell boyfriend- Kent.

We have come full circle & we are back at the front of the house. I am so pleased that you stopped by to have a cocktail & a quick tour. You are welcome back anytime.