Scar Tissue

My sister-in-law told me the other day that she thinks of the school year as kind of an open wound, and summer the time when it heals. Ouch! But, if she's right, I have finally reached the stage of my summer vacation where I have sufficiently recovered from not only the school year, but also all the fun of trips and visitors that followed it. I'm finally ready to get a few things done around the place.

Trouble is, there's quite a lot to do. Years ago, I left my annual summer to-do list on the counter when we were off to do something fun. When my sister-in-law came to feed the cats, she happened to see it. "You'll be lucky to get that done in ten summers," she told me later. She was right.

Just last night it occurred to me that a new strategy might be appropriate. As usual, I have a loooooong list of things I have to do, I'd like to accomplish, and things I like to do. Next to each item I put "finite" or "on-going". I also noted any task that was likely to take a significant amount of time. I figured the hardest part is usually starting, and knowing you can't finish something quickly is a great excuse not to begin. I also considered that (in the absence of a drop-dead deadline, which is always motivating) I do well with a regular schedule, so maybe it would be a good idea to plan to work on some of these chores for an hour a day until they get done. Few things are actually all or nothing.

So, I've canned a couple quarts of tomatoes. I've glued and sanded the deck chairs and put the first coat of paint on one. I've been to the attic and later to Goodwill. I've cleared out two drawers and one bookshelf in the guest room for Josh. I've read over my novel, found my notes, and added to them. I've played Words with Friends with my mom, Ruzzle with my sister, and Draw Something with Mary. I've written my blog, read a magazine and three chapters of Sally Ride's biography.

The day is not done, and despite the fact that our home improvement store had shelves and shelves full of mums-- tight budded and very green, but still-- there are still three weeks left in my vacation and plenty left to do.

Correction

All week I've been thinking about those rings in the desert. How could it be Burning Man Festival when that doesn't even start for another three weeks? Plus, did we really fly that far north over Nevada? And, what are those rectangle things on the left? Still, I tried uploading my photo for a Google image search, and it turned up nothing. I had previously tried several search terms with no luck.

"Who knows what it was," my brother told me; "the government has a lot of weird shit in the desert."

I had almost (almost) forgotten about it when I went to check Heidi's flight last night. I wanted to see exactly where she was so I used a site that shows the live progress of any commercial plane. As I watched the tiny icon creep across the map, I wondered if I could find our flight path from 10 days before. It turns out that I certainly could, AND I could also view that map as a satellite image.

As before, my touchstone was Mono Lake, an unmistakable landmark that I saw just a few minutes after the strange array. I followed the neon green dotted line backwards through Nevada scouring the image for anything that might possibly give me a clue. The only concrete signposts were the Grand Army of the Republic Highway and a town called Tonopah.

Finally I searched for "concentric rings nevada desert tonopah" and at last I found what I was looking for. It turns out that what I saw was the Crescent Dunes Solar Plant. It isn't up and running yet, but when it is, it will be the world's most advanced solar station.

What looked like circles from the air was actually more than seventeen thousand ground-mounted mirrors called heliostats. They collect solar energy and focus it on that central tower, which is full of salt. The heat melts the salt and it goes down to power a steam turbine, which generates electricity. The molten salt also stores energy in the form of heat, functioning like a kind of battery that can continue to produce steam and electricity for up to ten hours beyond when the mirrors are collecting sunlight. It is projected to fully power 75,000 homes a year.

Cool! Evidently, there's a lot more burning out there in the desert than just the man.

Girls' Day Out

I went with a couple of friends today to visit Hillwood Mansion, the former home of Marjorie Merriweather Post which is now a museum. Heiress to the cereal fortune and a shrewd business woman in her own right, Post was famous for her entertaining and her collections of Russian Imperial art and French decorative art. Hillwood, just one of her many properties, represented the perfect intersection of these pursuits.

Married and divorced four times, Post was by all accounts an independent woman who signed an agreement with the Smithsonian turning over the entire estate upon her death. In many ways the property was renovated, landscaped, and improved during her lifetime with this ultimate use in mind. There are many gardens, a greenhouse with thousands of orchids, and the house is still full of antique furniture, paintings, tapestry, porcelain, crystal, silver, jewels, and clothing. Our complimentary one-hour tour took 90 minutes, the guide admitting that we would see a small fraction of what the place had to offer.

Before the tour, as we stood in the grand entry hall beneath the rock crystal chandelier, I fiddled with my bright yellow entry tag, Fabulous! it read, and looked around at our fellow guests. Many had joined us from the short tour we had just taken of the cutting garden. Of the thirty-five or so people waiting among the portraits of Russian royalty, there were perhaps 5 younger than 40, and there were no more than a handful of men. All the tour guides were women over 60. I thought back to the visitor center-- all the folks there were also women. This sure is a hot spot for middle-aged ladies, I laughed to myself.

After Marjorie Post's death in 1973, Hillwood was taken over by the Smithsonian, just as she'd arranged, but in two year's time the impossible logistics of running such a property away from the National Mall became apparent, and ownership of the estate reverted back to her family, who was not caught unprepared. Post had left a 10 million dollar contingency plan in her will to convert Hillwood to a private, non-profit museum should the need arise. Today the estate is run by a board of trustees with the mission to delight and engage visitors with an experience inspired by the life of founder Marjorie Merriweather Post and her passion for excellence, gracious hospitality, art, history, and gardens.

A quick glance at the list of key staff running Hillwood reveals that the majority are women, as are 12 of the 17 trustees on the board. They cite their mandate as continuing Mrs. Post’s legacy by sharing the contributions she made in the fields of American business leadership; women’s studies; progressive thought; political history; philanthropy; community and social involvement; healthy lifestyles; Russian imperial art; French decorative arts; costume, jewelry and textile design and estate and garden design.

Fabulous! indeed.

Walking the Dog

Heidi gives Isabel a lot of attention, and since she's been away this week I haven't wanted our poor old dog to feel neglected. Not really the kissy-huggy type, I prefer to show my affection in a different way. Every day, I have taken Isabel for a walk in a new or favorite place. 

Certainly, the weather has been a blessing for late July; yesterday it did not go above 80, and so our jaunts have been most pleasant. On Sunday we visited Green Spring Garden, a place I had never been despite the fact that it's no more than 15 minutes from our home. The former site of a family farm from 1720 to the mid-1900's, it's a lovely property tucked away right off a major road. Oh, I left the historic house for another day, but we happily explored the ponds, wooded path, gardens, and the outdoor classroom. 

On Monday our destination was Great Falls, and in addition to a nice walk, we proved that dogs can participate successfully in selfies. 

Yesterday, we were off to another favorite local spot, Roosevelt Island. Isabel has been enjoying the trails there since she was a puppy. Back then, there was a little sandy beach off the main loop trail where we used to let her swim. It's a park rule that all dogs must be on leash, but we bent it knowing that she wouldn't leave the water until we made her. Even so, we still laugh about the woman who walked by with her own dog, properly leashed. "That would be fun... if it were allowed!" she said loudly as she pulled her pet away from our criminal influence.

And today, my friend Mary was kind enough to show us Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens, another National Park Site, but one I have never visited. The three of us spent a very nice hour meandering across boardwalks and dikes, admiring all the water lilies and lotus. The neighborhood surrounding the park is kind of sketchy, but you know what? 

Isabel didn't seem to notice at all.

Carnivores, Unite!

I will say this: The dog and cat are much more interested than usual in what's going down in the kitchen this week. Coincidence? I think not.

A Walk in the Park

The weather here has been unseasonably fantastic, almost Northern Cali-like, and so I took Isabel for a little walk out at Great Falls NP today. It was more crowded than I expected for a Monday, and most of the plates in the parking lot were local, lots of folks like me taking advantage of the pretty day.

Even so, there were stretches of the River Trail where it felt like we had the place to ourselves, if you don't count all the people right across the river on the Billy Goat Trail in Maryland. Right as we were about to take the carriage road back to the parking lot, the sky darkened, and a little while later I heard fat rain drops hitting the leaves in the canopy fifty feet above my head. Only one made it through before the storm passed, though.

Up ahead on the trail a group of kids from a day camp with their counselors were coming towards us. "What a cute dog!" exclaimed a couple of 8 or 9 year old girls.

"Thanks!" I smiled.

Behind the group two stragglers trudged along complaining to the counselor who was bringing up the rear. "We never do anything at Great Falls," one whined. "It's always just walk, walk, walk!"

When the Vegan's Away...

The carnivore will play! Chicken for dinner tonight, with pork and scallops planned for the coming days. I miss my girl, but it's fun to get back basics and put some old favorites on the menu.