Music and Cats

Shortly after noon today, Paul and I pulled on our coats and went out for a short walk. Although it wasn’t a particularly pretty day, several people were out on our street. As we turned a corner, I saw ahead of us more people — a couple holding hands, a woman walking with a child, several young men, another couple with two dogs. Everyone was walking in the same direction, their destination the elementary school a couple of blocks from our house. Walking along in that slow, steady stream of people, I teared up a little. I’m a softie for democracy in action, and today was caucus day in Washington.

The school gymnasium was packed. This was our third presidential caucus since moving to Seattle, and turnout for the precincts caucusing at the school was by far the largest we’ve seen… so large that several precincts were moved from the gym to other rooms in the school, so large that they ran out of sign-in sheets, and had to quickly make photocopies. It was impressive, and very exciting. (Reports are that the caucus turnout in Washington was twice that of four years ago.)

Washington is the only state in which I’ve lived that has a presidential caucus, and I like caucusing better than voting in a primary. Sure, caucusing is messy, and takes more time than simply voting, but there’s no other event that brings together so many people from the neighborhood, and gives them lots of time to stand around and talk with each other. (Actually, Washington has both a caucus and a primary, but we Democrats don’t use the primary for delegate selection.)

In Washington, the caucus process works like this: when you sign in with your precinct, you indicate your choice of candidate, or that you’re undecided. After the initial vote is counted, one person from each candidate’s camp has a minute to make a case for his/her candidate. After the speeches, anyone may change his/her vote. The votes are recounted, and a number of delegates is awarded to each candidate according to the percentage of votes received. Then the delegates are selected from among the precinct caucus attendees.

In our precinct, 110 people showed up! That’s about twice as many as four years ago. Initially, 66 people voted for Barack Obama, 28 voted for Hillary Clinton, and 6 were undecided. After the speeches, several people changed their votes; in the end, Obama had 68 votes, Clinton 31, and 1 person remained undecided. Our precinct will send 6 delegates to our district convention; 4 will be Obama delegates and 2 Clinton delegates.

By the time the recounting of votes was done, most people had left the caucus. About 20 Obama supporters remained to select 4 delegates and 4 alternates. As that group stood around looking at each other, my no-nonsense husband took charge. “Anyone who wants to be a delegate or alternate, raise your hand.” Five hands went up. “We need three more people,” Paul said. I put my hand up, as did four others. When we realized we had an extra, one fellow bowed out. Five people wanted to be delegates, but one quickly volunteered to be an alternate instead. As an alternate, I’ll attend the district caucus in April. By that time, it may be clear whether the Democratic nominee will be Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton, but I’m looking forward to taking part in the next step in the process. Truth be told, I’d happily vote for either Clinton or Obama.

In 2009, King County will join most other Washington counties in voting entirely by mail. I know that voting by mail has many fans, but I’ll miss the ritual of going to a shared polling place to cast my vote. I’m glad to know that, every four years, I’ll have the opportunity to spend a little quality time with my neighbors (and their children and dogs) to vote for and talk about who we want to be the next leader of our country.

In 2006, I made two short lists on the first day of the year. Some might have called them resolutions, intentions, aspirations or longings; I called them hopes. Two years later, I still have many of the same hopes, and have a couple to add to each list. I have high hopes for 2008.

In 2008, I hope to have in my life more:

1. Family: Playtime with Paul, visits with our extended family, and fostering/adopting a child.
2. Community: Reconnecting with old friends, building new friendships, finding a spiritual community.
3. Music: Playing my violin, singing, attending concerts.
4. Movement: Dancing, walking, perhaps getting back to a gym.
5. Writing: Not only blogging, but getting back to work on the book I began in my writing class three years ago.
6. Flexibility: Physical, mental and emotional; the yoga class that I’m starting next week is the first step.
7. Gardening: Growing some of our food… and not having the messiest yard on the block.
8. Contentment: Will this follow from acting on these two lists?

In 2008, I hope to have in my life less:

1. Stress: Much of my stress last year was work-related. I’m hoping for less stress at the new job I start next month.
2. Weight: The issue of fitness aside, I weigh more than is healthy.
3. Inaction/hesitation: I’m not getting any younger; it’s time to go after the things that I want in my life.
4. Stuff: If I don’t need it or use it, why have it? Freecycle is my friend…
5. Television: I’ve often used TV to numb out. I’d like to stop doing that.
6. Driving: Selling my car, and taking the bus or walking, will be better both for me and for the planet.
7. Sadness: I may not be able to control events that sadden me, but I can hope for fewer of them, can’t I?
8. Fear: That’s what therapy’s for…

May all your hopes for 2008 be realized.

I have long been drawn to spirals. The scroll of a violin. The swirling clouds in a hurricane. The volute on an Ionic column. The curl of a new fern frond. The trance-inducing dances of Brittany. The whorls of a sunflower’s seeds. A complex mathematical construction. An ancient symbol of consciousness, birth and rebirth. Magic and mystery.

I wish I’d been able to watch the insect — whatever she was — that laid these 53 tiny eggs in a spiral, about one inch in diameter, on a downspout near my parents’ back door. What in this tiny creature’s brain led her to deposit her eggs, each standing off the metal on a slender filament, in this particular shape?

I imagine that the same Hand that spun the stars into the spiral disk of our galaxy nudged this insect on her spiral path. I can’t begin to understand how that Hand moves, but I am awed and delighted by the patterns of its creation.

What We Need Is Here

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

–Wendell Berry

It’s apple season here in Washington, and I’ve been tasting every apple variety I can find at our farmers’ markets. As a kid in Texas, I grew up on the two colors of Delicious apples (red and golden); I still remember the novelty of those vivid green Granny Smiths from New Zealand. When I moved to New England for college, I discovered a new world of regional apples, ill-suited for long-distance shipping: McIntosh, Winesap, Cortland, Rome Empire. Oh, those were heady days! But it wasn’t until we moved to Washington, and began shopping at the farmers’ markets here, that I had any idea of the wide range of flavors, textures and colors found in apples.

These are the apple varieties that I’ve seen and tasted at our farmers’ markets this fall: Ashmead’s Kernel, Belle de Boskoop, Blue Pearmain, Braeburn, Bramley’s Seedling, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Empire, Fuji, Honeycrisp, Jonagold, Karmijn de Sonneville, Liberty, Macoun, Melrose, Northern Spy, Smokehouse, Spitzenburg, Winesap, Winter Banana, Zabergau Reneitte.

Twenty varieties of apples! Apples crisp, apples soft, apples rather chewy. Apples sweet and smooth, tart to the point of puckery, apples almost savory. (Do apples have umami?) Apples red and green, russeted apples, apples shaded blue. What a bounty! What wonderful variety!

Then today I read Harold McGee’s article on apples in today’s New York Times, which begins:

“I had the fruit tasting of a lifetime here last month. It went on for 12 hours over two days. By the end I had sampled several hundred different kinds of apples, some like no apple I’d ever tasted before.

“At least eight varieties tasted hauntingly of roses. Several surprised me with the distinct taste of anise or fennel. There were aromas of all kinds. Flowers and spices and nuts, including coconut. Lots of other fruits: orange peel and lemon, strawberry, pineapple, green banana. Rhubarb. Occasionally, popcorn, and potatoes. Some apples seemed to suffer from confused genus identity and tasted like pears.

“It was exhilarating to experience such different flavors in apples brought here from all over the world. It was also frustrating, because I might not ever be able to experience them again. The United States was once home to more than 10,000 named apple varieties, but nowadays it’s hard to find more than a handful, even at farmers’ markets.”

Apples that taste of rose or rhubarb? Yes, that’s fascinating, and I’d love to taste them. But 10,000 named apple varieties in the United States? That’s amazing. Where did they all go? And why do I find only 20 varieties at farmers’ markets in a state known for its apples?