Edmonds Senior Center

Sunday afternoon the weather cleared so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and more particularly, to visit the Edmonds Senior Center, now renamed the Edmonds Waterfront Center. In a previous post, I mentioned that I would show you the new building. It was supposed to be open by now so off I went.

Along the way I kept an eye out for any winter-blooming flowers that might have the courage to bloom this time of year. Sure enough, there were several hardy flowers showing their colors.

A rhododendron, perhaps confused by our warmer marine climate, was showing a few blossoms.

One of our local businesses displays pansies year round. I see other beds of pansies elsewhere on my walks. It seems that even when there is freezing weather, the pansies survive to raise their showy heads again when it warms.

I didn't recognize this bush so tried to find it on the internet. It stumped Google too. Maybe one of you experts could attach a comment telling us what it is?

Found these beautiful roses growing in the protected area on the south side of a building not far from the Waterfront Center. There were a few roses in bloom in the city-maintained flower beds along Sunset Avenue, but they are exposed to the north wind so weren't doing so good. 

The fence was still up around the new Waterfront Center so I had to shoot through the fence in the top photo and you'll just have to ignore it in the bottom photo. 

The building sits on some choice real estate. From where I took this photo, the fishing pier is on the right about a block away and the ferry terminal is behind me, also about a block away. The seagull perched on the roof is looking out over the beach and salt water.

Heading back through the residential neighborhood, I came across this fuschia.

This camelia was doing good, but with the rainy weather we've had lately, I think it won't last long.

As I walked around the nearby park, I saw these nice holly berries. Not flowers, of course, but the bright green shiny leaves and contrasting red berries caught my attention.

Again, these are not flowers, but "flowering kale" is a another source of wayside beauty during the winter.

I watch these flowers bloom all winter long, at least in winters past. I think they are a variety of zinnia, but any of you flower experts feel free to post a correction.

Came across these snowberries alongside the trail around the marsh. After the colors of the flowers, I was impressed by the stark gray and brown foliage contrasting with the white berries.

I'm sorry I couldn't do a proper introduction to the Waterfront Center. Perhaps a sunny day will coincide with some free time and I'll try again after the fence is gone.

Dark Winter Days

After I have a cup of coffee and read the morning paper, I do my morning exercises and yoga. I do the routine using a Wii balance board and my personal routine selected from the Wii software. I bought the Wii setup about eleven years ago and have used it off and on since. For the past seven months I've been doing it faithfully almost every morning. 

The routine consists of ten yoga poses and eight exercises followed by a dozen pushups. The routine is committed to memory so instead of watching the TV screen, I observe the morning scene from the living room windows. 

From these north-facing windows I see what real estate agents call a territorial view. There are two partially vacant lots in the foreground with apartment and condominium buildings beyond. There are several trees and in the middle distance stands a telephone pole that a seagull uses as a lookout and resting spot. I can tell which way the wind blows by watching the seagull land into the wind. If there is little or no wind, it seems to land facing the sun.

This time of year it's usually dark when I do my exercises. A week ago I finished the paper and coffee early and started exercising a little after six. Noticed that we had a clear sky and watched as the day arrived. It was interesting to see the transition from dark to light so thought I'd take photos during the next clear day so I could share the brightening sky with you. 

The next day reverted to our normal winter weather.  I've been hoping for a clear morning but it's been clouds and rain since. This morning, a few hours after the winter equinox, I decided to take photos despite the low clouds and rain.

This was taken at 0659. To the naked eye it was dark with some ambient light from security lights and streetlights, but the camera optimizes what light there is to get the best photo possible without specialized lenses, etc. The branches in the foreground are lighted by the living room lights behind me.

Now we move to 0714. The sky is a little lighter but the trees are still in silhouette and the ground is dark. 

At 0725 the clouds are brighter, the trees are still in silhouette and the fields are still mostly hidden. Above the low apartment building with the two lighted windows on the left side of the photo we see two poles. The pole on the left has crossbars and wires while the one on the right is a bare pole where the seagull likes to land to survey the scene. Those poles are only a block away even though it looks farther. About this time the hummingbirds begin their visits to my feeder. 

At 0735 the trees have shifted to three dimensions, the sky is brighter and we can make out a little color, even though the shaded windows of the apartment still shine with light. The hummingbirds have been busy and now the seagulls and crows are flying. Beginning about now I see occasional pairs of ducks and small flocks of geese flying to the east.

Now it's 0747 and the day is arriving. The lights in the apartment windows are still visible but soon will fade away in the brightening day. About now this morning I saw a rabbit running from my side of the field and scamper into the briar patch in the bottom left. In the spring and summer we watch the rabbits feeding on the green grass and playing in the longer grass to the right of the blackberry thicket. We haven't seen one since late September, so this was a special morning despite the rain. Last spring and summer, on three occasions I saw a coyote in this field so the rabbits have to be careful or they will be a quick breakfast.

Now it's five minutes after official sunrise (0759) and the glow of the apartment windows is gone. 

This photo was taken shortly after the one above, also at 0759. The rain is dripping off my storm flag and there are flood warnings for the local rivers. Typical winter weather for us.

Full daylight, such as it is, arrived around 0825. The light that shines on my flag during the night is controlled by a photocell and turns off when there is enough light to trigger the photocell. On a clear day the light would have gone off shortly before sunrise, but today it was half hour after sunrise before it got bright enough.

Watching night turn to day had me wondering about the relative speed of that change in various places on earth. When I lived in Panama, the twilight periods were quite different. Now I live in Edmonds, Washington at approximately 47.8 degrees North latitude. Today being the shortest day of the year, we have only 8 hours and 25 minutes of daylight. The other 16 hours and 35 minutes are the three kinds of twilight and night. 

Today astronomical twilight (center of sun between 18-12 degrees below horizon) when we can't yet see the horizon and most stars are still visible, lasted from 0602 until 0639. Nautical twilight (center of sun 12-6 degrees below horizon) when the horizon is visible and some stars are still visible lasted from 0639-0719. Civil twilight (center of sun 6-0 degrees below horizon) lasted from 0719-0755 when the it was sunrise. 

Some authorities describe the morning twilights as dawns and the evening twilights as dusks, but I'll keep it simple and refer to those periods as twilight. Another note, nautical twilight was very useful before GPS and other kinds of geo-positioning because it allowed mariners to locate their position by using a sextant, the horizon and astronomical bodies (astronavigation).

I said that the days and twilights were different in Panama. I noticed the same thing in Viet Nam. The twilight periods in the tropics are notable for their shortness compared to those of more temperate climes. This is caused by the speed of the earth's rotation in the particular local. 

The earth spins on its axis approximately once in 24 hours. If you measure the circumference of the earth at the equator and do the math you see that the point on which you are standing is rotating at about 1,037.5 mph. As you move toward the poles, the circumference (following the latitudes) shrinks. Once again, you can do the math (using cosign and multiplication) and find the speed. Here in Edmonds, we are moving at about 631.24 mph. Moving farther north, the distance gets shorter and shorter until at the north pole you can literally encircle the earth with your arms. There the land (water and ice) beneath you is moving not in miles per hour but in inches per hour. 

This speed combined with the angle of the suns rays, gives us the length of the twilights. Here in Edmonds, since we're traveling only about half as fast as people at the equator, the twilights are much longer. 

Interestingly, the maximum northern latitude for astronomical twilight at midnight during the summer solstice (longest day of the year) in the northern hemisphere is 48.56 degrees. At 48.75 degrees, Bellingham just falls within that range and thus is the only large city in the continental US to do so.

Well, that's probably more than you wanted to know about twilight, so I'll stop there and wish you a Merry Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year.

I took this an hour or so ago. I'm sure Iko's orchids are glad they are inside that window instead of out in the deluge we are having today.
    

Beaver Moon

 Last Monday evening and Tuesday morning, we had mostly clear weather. The Beaver moon (traditional name for the November full moon) rose in the northeast and set in the northwest so I had occasion to watch it.

This shot is taken at 1819, Monday, November 30th toward the northeast from my deck. The moon was full but partially hidden by clouds just when I wanted to get a photo.

This shot was taken at 0547 the next morning, Tuesday, Dec 1st. This is my storm flag (approx. 2 x 3 feet) which I fly during the winter months because of the wind and rain.

Here it is 0739 on Tuesday morning. It's been light for twenty minutes or so, but the full moon is still visible.

Today I was walking on the far side of the marsh and noted that the weeping willow trees over there had lost all their leaves. The one in this photo still has most of its leaves. Must be a different microclimate.

After observing the marsh, I turned under the pine trees across the road in the photo above and walked along the boardwalk then down to Railroad Avenue to see how the new Edmonds Senior Center is coming. It is pretty much finished and the grand opening was supposed to be around the end of November but the construction fence is still up so I couldn't go onto the grounds. In a few days I'll walk that way again. The fence should be down by then and I'll introduce you to the new Senior Center.

Continuing north, I passed the ferry terminal then hopped across the tracks and continued north on sunset Avenue. 

The roses that line the parking strip have lost their leaves but there are still a few blooms. I guess they are winter roses. I'll see if they last until winter actually begins on the 21st.

We've had some light frosts even though the temperature on my deck hasn't dropped below 34.5 degrees. It's supposed to rain for the next couple days, but when the weather clears I'll do a blog entry of the hardy flowers that brave the chilly winds and short days to bloom in wintertime Edmonds.

 
 

On A Clear Day

Yesterday (Saturday) was a clear day here in Edmonds. Well, as clear as it gets this time of year close to the salt water.

In the early afternoon I decided to take a walk, so struck off south on 3rd Ave. I like to walk on the streets less traveled so popped up to 4th and kept walking south toward the dead end just south of Pine Street. Instead of going up the hill to the east on one of my usual routes, I decided to go west. Pine runs down the south side of the park. Decided I needed some time in the woods and wandered around the small wooded area then went on west across Edmonds Way and north to where I could duck around the edge of the Edmonds Marsh and pick up the boardwalk that runs along the north side of the marsh.

I took this photo on Veterans Day when I was flying the POW/MIA Flag. On the left side of the photo, just beyond the slide and playhouse, you can see the easternmost edge of the Edmonds Marsh. Between the far edge of the marsh and the building, Edmonds Way runs north to the ferry ticket booths and parking area. Under the pine tree is where the boardwalk starts so you can see it's not far away as the crow flies. Afoot, it is farther and to get there one needs to follow the path I describe above.

I enjoy walking along the boardwalk as it winds along the edge of the marsh. It is usually deserted except for the occasional birder or dog walker. Yesterday I saw one birder taking photos of the herons. It was close to high tide and the herons were having good luck fishing in the shallow water.

This photo was taken from one of the lookout stations along the boardwalk. The view is toward the SSW. The condos on the hill are recent additions that were built on the site of an old tank farm. The boat storage rack is just to the west of the BNSF train tracks. 

The main road (Edmonds Way) and the tracks have culverts to allow water to move with the tides. There is a plan to improve the wetlands by building bridges and removing the culverts to allow the water to be more free flowing and the fish to have better access. 

I had wanted to walk out onto the fishing pier to see if people were catching anything, but being a nice day, there were hordes out walking so grabbed a quick shot to the north and headed back to less crowded areas.

The land to the left of the ferry is Whidbey Island and that to the right is the mainland. The elevated walkway is for foot passengers. Vehicles board via the hard-to-see bridge between the water and land.

From here, I continued north alongside the train track to the ferry terminal entrance. Asked an attendant if I could go out on the dock and take a photo or two. She probably thought an old guy like me couldn't get into much trouble so granted permission. 

Looking NNE I could see Mt Baker. It is visible in the right center of the photo, over the breakwater and the point of land in the distance. It's about eighty miles away as the crow flies, but on a clear day, it comes into view.

Here's hoping for a clear day for our country. To see that other people, who may dress, act and look different, are still people. To see that members of other groups are not all ogres bent on our destruction. Most importantly, to see that real communication (listening in addition to declaiming) can allow the beginning of understanding. 

I know it's a lot to ask, but if we could cut through the fog and mist of rumor and rhetoric to really see and hear other people, we might be surprised at the results.

Wild Thing

For the past two or three weeks I've been taking the occasional photo of wild plants that have found a niche in the Edmonds community. I find it somewhat amazing that life can be so tenacious. Wild plants grow wherever there is space, a little soil and moisture.

Himalayan blackberries (Rubus armeniacus) are an invasive species that has naturalized in many places. Here in western Washington, it can be found along roads, forest borders, farm fence-rows and anywhere it can find root in Edmonds. 

When I saw this plant growing in small plot of soil near a bus stop, I thought it was Yarrow. After returning home, I looked it up to confirm the ID. Now I'm not so sure but that it might not be a variety of Tansy. When I go by that way again, I'll bruise a leaf and see if that helps. I hope it's Yarrow since Tansy is generally an unwanted wild thing.  

Crown vetch growing in a roadside garden. I've seen this in other gardens and in untended plots, mostly in semi-shaded areas. Some varieties of vetch are good erosion control plants and many make good food for livestock during the winter and spring when grass is dormant.

Salal (Gaultheria shallon) is a common wild thing throughout the Pacific Northwest. This specimen was planted in a roadside border a couple years ago after a cedar hedge was removed. This plant is in full sun and seems to be enjoying the environment. Often I see salal in shady areas along trails in the nearby park, where it grows tall and makes a great home for squirrels and other small animals.

Oregon grape (Mahonia aquifolium) is native to our area and has been domesticated as an ornamental for use in gardens. When I was young, I tried the berries and found them to be almost inedible with a couple large seeds and a sour-to-bitter taste. Native Americans mixed the berries with salal berries to the benefit of both. The resultant paste was made into cakes that could be mixed with pounded dried meat and fat to make pemmican. When I was young, folklore had it that salal and Oregon grape could be made into a delicious jelly. I never saw any and it seemed to be like Alice's, "jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, never jam today," so one summer in 1975 or '76 I decided to make some. The effort failed for lack of juice. The salal berries are mushy and the Oregon grape berries had very little juice. I think they are better suited to pemmican than jelly.

California poppies (Eschscholzia californica) grow anywhere there is sun and well-drained soil. Around Edmonds, they grow wild where they can and are planted in gardens for showy flowers most of the summer. When I walk on cloudy, misty days or in the evening, the flowers are closed. I found it interesting that these plants were introduced to Chile, either as an escaped ornamental or in bales of alfalfa imported from California as animal feed. Now the poppies are doing better in their new home than those that stayed behind in California. 

I've known these wild things for years but never knew what they were called. It turns out that google isn't sure either. Some photos list them as "Little Yellow False Dandelions" while others call them "dandelion trees." All dandelions have a tap root and this variety, especially, enjoys the hot days of summer when the green lawns have turned brown. That long tap root reaches down to harvest whatever moisture there might be and the blooms soon release their umbrella seeds to find other brown pastures. All parts of the dandelion are edible and nutritious. Apparently they were eaten by our ancestors long before recorded history. 

Another interesting fact about dandelions is that the sticky white sap that oozes out when a leaf or the flower is cut, is the same kind of latex found in rubber trees. The wild dandelion has a small amount of this latex but scientists in Germany have bred a variety that has enough latex to be useful for making rubber. In 2015 a new manufacturing facility there made tires from the dandelion latex and is running tests on regular highways. In 2018 a Chinese company invested over $400 million to build a facility to make commercially viable rubber from dandelions. Who'da guessed the lowly dandelion would hit pay dirt as a latex plant?

Morning glory is another wild thing that seizes whatever opportunity is presented to greet the morning with its spectacular flowers. Fences, guy wires, hedges and other vines are pressed into service by the morning glory vine as it winds its way to full exposure. I didn't copy the Latin name because, according to Wikipedia, there are over 1,000 varieties of plants called "morning glory" and there is an on-going debate among experts to decide the proper nomenclature. Whatever the scientific name, the flowers are beautiful and have been bred in many shades of white through blue.

White clover (Trifolium repens) is part of systematic pasture strategy on farms but grows wild around town. The bees love clover but I didn't know that it is a good survival food. It's hard for humans to digest raw but if boiled for a few minutes it is easily digestible and high in protein and is a good source of vitamins.

The stinging nettle (Urtica dioica) has many uses. The leaves and flowers are eaten like spinach, the young plants can be used to make beer, the stalks contain fibers similar to linen, and the entire plant can be used for flogging as a punishment. I was surprised by this last but, according to Wikipedia, in Ecuador, the indigenous people punished serious crimes thus, "The sentenced perpetrator of a crime was flogged with stinging nettle, in public, naked, whilst being showered with freezing cold water.^[45]" 

Nettles have long been a source of food, especially early in the growing season when other greens were scarce. Nowadays, when greens seem to grow on grocers shelves year round, people don't eat nettles as much. Two years ago, when I was trekking in Nepal, one of the tea-house owners cooked a dish for me from nettles we collected along the trail. They also heighten the yellow color of egg yolks when hens eat as little as 6.25 grams of dried nettle per kilogram of feed.

Fabric made of nettle fibers has been used to make clothing for thousands of years. Because of a potential cotton shortage, German Army uniforms were almost all made from nettle material in WWI. Recently companies in Italy, Austria and Germany have begun making cloth material from nettle fibers. 

The wild geranium (Geranium maculatum) grows wild in the eastern US and Canada. In Edmonds it is sometimes planted in gardens but it also has naturalized and is found in several shady places along my walks.

Fireweed (Chamaenerion angustifolium) is another wild thing found in many places around Edmonds. As with many native plants, the fireweed (so named for its ability to quickly grow on burned over land) stem and leaves are edible when very young. As it matures, the stem can be split and the inside eaten raw. The leaves can be dried and steeped for a tasty brew and it is valued as a medicinal herb.

Daisies For a Restrained Fourth of July

Daisies that bring you joy are better than roses that bring you sorrow. Matshona Dhliwayo

This Independence Day being rather subdued, I thought the Daisy, being the uncelebrated flower that it is, would be a good symbol of the day. 

Some of my earliest memories are of the final years of WWII. There were no fireworks then on Independence Day, probably because gunpowder was going to the war industries. Rationing made life difficult and I don't remember eating a hot dog on the Fourth, or any other day, until later. Times were grim but Americans were sacrificing for the war effort. 

Other than during those war years, I don't remember a Fourth of July as restrained as what the virus has brought us this year. Americans are being asked to forego a degree of personal pleasure for the common good. I hope we are up to the task. 

Even constrained by concrete and a sturdy fence, these daisies smiled and nodded to me as I walked by their home. I was encouraged by their perseverance and determined to follow their example.

These small English Daisies and the showy Goblin Gallardia, below, each enjoy their place in the daisy world. I take that as a lesson. Even though I'm not the smartest, richest or strongest man in this world, I can find happiness in my own space.

I enjoyed my walk among the daisies. Returning home, I felt inspired to ignore life's petty constraints and search for the beauty that is often hidden in plain sight.

Always have something beautiful in sight, even if it's just a daisy in a jelly glass. H. Jackson Brown Jr.

Lilies Galore

It's lily time in Edmonds. Found these lilies in people's yards on my walks around town the past few days. The exception is one that was growing in my sister's yard near Lake Stevens. I'll let you figure out which it is.

Some of the lilies have a wonderful aroma, but some don't smell at all. I can hear my brother saying, "Of course not dummy, they don't have noses." He was always the wise guy of the family.

This isn't a lily but it is a gorgeous sunset. The photo was taken from my deck, looking northwest at 2113 (9:13 pm) on June 22nd, the longest day of the year this year.