What am I up to?
Spring Fever in Real Estate was wild and crazy and the Summer will Sizzle too. We need inventory so timing is right to get you to Sold-even in the frenzy of multiple offers. Buyers?-We will admit, not a landslide of choices, but I’ll help you navigate through!
Ruth Dorsey/Managing Broker/ JohnL.Scott Real Estate/360-202-3361 ruthdorsey.com ruth@ruthdorsey.com
Business Experience: 35 years
For several years in November, I have passed on Northwest rain and headed to Arizona for sun, as well as more “Mom research”, botanical and wildlife parks, butterfly gardens, bird watching, and family visits. This year it will be December. What will greet me once more? Here’s a peek at past winter moments: Bisbee Museum: Statehood celebration one year before Mom was born there. Fading mannequins, Gambrel quail and windows and Mom in the U of A Yearbook sports page,
Then it will be back home, waiting for a second break in Mexico in 2018. Today I found my favorite book hiding away on a shelf, and my zest for savoring that beauty returned. I remember meeting the photographer, who is renowned in major publications, and getting his autograph on “La Luz Del Pueblo“. He was so fortunate to get inside the colorful homes and patios and would even hire models for some of his photos.
( https://www.amazon.com/Luz-del-Pueblo-Discovering-Allende/dp/0615246915)
This book brought lots of memories of my favorite place, San Miguel Allende and as I flipped through its pages, I began searching my computer for some of my own images. I had almost the same joy: meeting people on my own, engaging them, feeling blessed by a culture that is different than my own. The first morning you wake up in SMA your senses are awakened: the colors, the aromas, floral delights, Gothic churches, doors and windows. Camera time! On one occasion I had the joy of meeting another photographer who I hired. As we walked down streets and alleys, he would say, “come back here about 2 or so and you’ll see a different light.” He guided me on how to approach people in their own culture, avoiding being the ugly American by intruding. Find common ground to make them feel comfortable long before asking for a photo. And maybe you won’t get the shot, but you would have been the perfect guest.
My photos here:
This is not my hand, since I have not attempted painting. But my lens continues to capture what I love. So stay tuned for more Mexico images.
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The end of March has reflected some sadness now for eight years: a month when my love, Ed, passed. These memories for FB friends and family mostly consisted of Caribbean moments in the sun and tales of sailing. But just by chance the other day I was looking at some pieces I wrote for a writing class in 2012 and discovered a story of his special friend from World War II! Sometimes it is nice to remember others who shared his life.
Herr Dietrich at AlspitzStrasse
Our oft-visited “home-away-from-home” through the years was an apartment: “fur swie personen mit kompletter kuche, bad, dusche, WC, TV and Radio” located in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Bavaria. However, it was much more than a colorful European “pension or zimmerfrei.”
Owned by Ed’s wartime friend Eckhard, this typically-alpine accommodation on Alspitzstrasse was the perfect place for renewed friendships. We savored German breads, plum kuchen and German beer (his son operated a wholesale garage-shop of exotic brews). In addition, the balcony was my postcard-perfect photo studio, for captured farms and fields. The daily backdrop of purple-splendor peaks was more fodder for my journal. Yes, we had arrived– and were greeted by”Willkommen to Deutschland,” our host yodeled to his accordion tunes.
Eckhard, well-scrubbed , was the dappered showman. He wore suspenders with a Bavarian motif, flashed his wide smile that boasted a mouthful of gold-capped teeth and twinkled eyes shone under thick eyebrows. Soft, gray hair featured short sideburns, and his prominent nose and cropped mustache depicted the timeless look of a refined mountain man.
Speaking English sometimes for my sake, this special friend tried almost too hard to devise plans for us. Concerts, beer drinking, parks and site seeing. But as time went by, he often would forget those plans–of course after we had scurried back to enjoy them.
“I’m bringing you breakfast. Morning sweets, bread, cheese and cold cuts,” he said the night we came. We hadn’t provisioned yet, and our appetite was big. The promised fare did not arrive. However, we did find a basket of bread on the stand outside the door.
Eckhard’s new lady–his wife had passed years ago– was chunky, grinning Gisella. She was always so eager to please, but didn’t speak a word of English. So when I was alone with her, we had quite the challenge, especially about keys so I could get in! One evening we were supposed to go to town for singing and dancing. Eckhard said he would come later, so off we went walking. Finally, she had to fetch a taxi to go back and get him. He had fallen asleep. But, the “evening was young and everyone was beautiful” and he stomped a polka in spite of recent foot surgery. The couple praised the hors d’oeuvres “gansfett” (goose fat), a spread for bread. Then it was my turn to please by trying some. However, my stomach recoiled. Ed was the smart diner: No thanks!
The two men reminisced about the old youthful days. Ed showed me an old coffee shop that was now a hardware store. They both used to live in rented rooms upstairs.
Eckhard was always taking us somewhere for a delightful evening, including a pub where the entertainer sang in English, “If I tell you you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” Somehow, it seemed a bit melancholy in the colorful German accent.
Most of these trips were during the 1990s and since the area catered to retirees, I wasn’t surprised that at a park concert there was a plethora of finely-dressed matrons whose fashion probably hadn’t changed in a long time.
Our host took us to his choir concert the last night of our visit and early the next morning was at our room with a farewell serenade, fresh “brot” and chocolates. The blessing of his friendship was lasting too long, and Ed thought we should call a taxi, but Eckhard insisted on driving us to the train. We closed our eyes, squished in with too much luggage for such a tiny car, and prayed for safety as he careened around pedestrians and traffic.
He always insisted on getting on the train with us, wanting a last embrace and goodbyes. He would jump off at the last minute as the door shut. With fondness, we remembered those past arrivals and departures. Auf Wiedersehen, Eckhard.
If your sister lives close and you really like her, is it too obvious that you might want to visit her as much as possible? And, really, it’s only a ferry ride away. Well, Anacortes has such a friend–our sister city of Sidney, British Columbia. I’ve done trips there, but mostly just to get to Victoria. Rarely did I take the time to linger. So when one of my photos was to be on display at their Art Center (Blue Door photo), I lingered and lingered– and such a worthy pastime. Camera Club member, Leslie Dorn and I wandered their Thursday night gathering when the town closes its charming main street for fun vendors and arts and crafts.The artists’ reception at the beautiful Aquarium with our mayor and their town crier was enhanced by extremely gourmet desserts.
There is a large boating and marine industry in the area, ranging from marinas to boat builders and marine suppliers, just like home. It serves as a starting point for the southern Gulf Islands National Park Reserve and is superb for whale watching, migratory birding and so much more, a boating paradise like Anacortes.
“Sidney is officially Canada’s only book town with 12 ! It also has almost as many coffee joints and cafes to sit and read in.”
Boutiques aplenty! Leslie and I couldn’t stop (looking, that is!) And two days later another friend came to join me-but we were good, we didn’t buy too much! Its population is about 12,000, but there are so many more commercial streets packed with so many shops it makes it look bigger than home.
Anacortes Women: Hop that ferry and have fun!! http://www.flushbath.ca/ A spendy Paris-inspired shower curtain, organic bath towels—fun, fun! Then there’s Waterlily-a trendy shoe shop you don’t find very many places-you’ll need to save up for its fabulous offerings. A warm and friendly staff at Sidney’s Waterfront Inn was superb.
Christmas boat parades, close-by Butchhart Gardens, proximity to the airport, a short drive to Victoria, so many complimentary amenities similar to our town,.
You’ll find visitor moorage in boating guides, other marinas to the north, another ferry to Gulf Islands, water slide for kids-the list goes on!
So take up the invitation and go see our sister!
January scurried by so crazy it’s hard now to remember the days: Exception: Chihuly Garden and Glass in Seattle and fabulous Argentine Tango Performance and Dance at The Anacortes Depot.
J
But twelve days thus far in February in Anacortes make my heart and head think of Wordsworth and C.S. Lewis referring to the phrase “surprised by joy.” An old hymn also comes to mind-“Count your blessings, name them one by one.” Those blessings are Our wonderful A-Town! Normal winter rains, then blue skies shining on colorful bulbs. Rhodies and Camelias already in bloom and even the mowing of some lawns! Walkers cheer. Is winter over so soon? Probably not. Here’s a portrayal of our bay’s watercolors on one of those better days.
Movies seen: Spotlight, The Finest Hours right here in town. Enjoyed my Bas Bleu book club, laughing over a fun depiction of a Seattle Microsoft fictional family. A must fun read.
A birthday party at Gere a deli. Surprises in a small town. I go and discover people who I didn’t know knew the birthday girl. A weekly tango lesson at the Depot, client work in this hot market, early packing for Mexico trip and the list goes on!
Herons. Snow geese. (after never being in the right place at the right time) and enjoying the usual family of eagles near the Edison bridge.
Last night the Camera Club assignment was to share black and white images. I can’t think of anything more appropriate than sharing one I took several years ago at the Pirate Show. Bill Mitchell, our well-known Mural-Man.
But the crème de la crème of the week was “The Final Chapter”– the selling off at Scott Milo gallery of the remaining art work from Dick Garvey’s estate. I bought two incredible photos. As I write this, I am looking at my signed copy of Dick’s book “The Western Waltz” I bought before he passed.His words to me : “Ruth, keep up the truly good work. And remember to always come closer.”
And even more memories for me as I read my dedication to him in my own published photo book, “Give me the Blues,” which he titled and never got to see.
What a great teacher, a great man.
I will stop with two pictures that say “A-Town” for sure!! (P.S. I haven’t learned how to change the year on my pics!!-Sorry!)
I adore tiny towns: “wide spots in the road”– sometimes considered by travelers as unworthy of a stop, but I fantasize they will boast some semblance of what is left of rural Americana ( though many off-freeway spots are rapidly disappearing). They do not disappoint. To find crumbling carcasses of old buildings is a challenge, since even these little towns get dressed up with way too much newness.
My favorite close-to-home spot is Edison, Wa. May it never lose its unique and funky self! An eclectic collage of oft-visited taverns, superb eateries (not always considered inexpensive, but so worth the unique ambiance) and shops that defy definition. Edison is tiny (pushing 150) in population, has a history of a Utopian colony and is a haven for anyone seeking bonding in motorcycle-heaven. Sometimes I just drive through heading for Chuckanut Drive and Bellingham. Other days I linger longer. Often when I cross the Samish River, I am accompanied by a huge “V” of cormorants casting their shadows, or eagles buffeted by winds or gathering in the big tree. Found these quotes later and love them!
“You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”
“You may not know where you’re going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.
Enjoy a Oaxaca-style tasty taco featuring Aceite spice at Mariposa Tacqueria.
Or head to the gallery. http://www.smithandvallee.com/gallery
Airstreams park in yards for extra guest space and home sites are mostly small, lending neighborliness. No resort landscape decor in this village.Not much that says “manicured”. A dumpster is an eclectic shop. (but they still have the standard green dumpsters that demonstrate “Skagit County Progress.”)
How I love this place! And entertainment? Create your own or check out this calendar.
http://theoldedison.com/event-calendar/
This past weekend was a collection of a few tears, but enhanced by great memories. It has been six years now since “my Ed” passed. My Officer and Gentleman. I picture his miles-wide smile, his faded khaki shirt sporting epaulets. He was sixty-five years young, and I was forty-four. Caribbean sailing brought us together and Edward became not only my captain, but also a devoted significant other for 26 years until his death in 2009. Pictures are crew dancing, one of his boats, a 1983 portrait, Chef at 38th St. Anacortes and other.
Following are my thoughts from Saturday, March 28, 2015
A meandering drive backdropped by Whidbey Island’s natural beauty a patch of sun peeking out from clouds, spring buds and also the radio with just one too many oldies that seemed to waft over the waves. Songs that reminisced of memorable moments with Ed’s companionship. Teaching me waltz steps to “Moon River” and “Could I have this Dance for the Rest of my Life”; then “Dream a Little Dream of Me” and “Sentimental Journey.”
Reminders of so many day and night dreams where he is still in my heart.
But the “most-filled-era” song, was straight out of nights anchored on the sailboat, in a quiet cove, with a zillion Caribbean stars. The first year we were together –with Neil Diamond:
“Longfellow Serenade
Such were the plans I made
But she was a lady
As deep as the river
And through the night we stayed
And in my way I loved her as none before
Loved her with words and more
For she was lonely and I was lonely.”
Ride, come on baby, ride
Let me make your dreams come true
I’ll sing my song
Let me sing my song
Let me make it warm for you
Amazingly crazy that I haven’t blogged since my return from mega-wonderful Mexico and that $10 million worn-out hacienda I couldn’t buy! Spring brought some of my beloved “gitas” (my moniker I used in 2013 archive blogs for my wanderings) that bring out the best in me, feasting upon nature’s bounty and people’s foibles as well as their divinity. Dad, if your were around, yes you would worry about me, but you would know for sure that I was a chip off the old block-put me behind a steering wheel and behold the rejoicing! A few days here and there, caught in rainstorms, chugging up mountain passes for spring lupines,running ac ross for-sale-by-owners 
testing restaurants, i.e. The Harvest Restaurant in Waterville (old farmhouse with table that seats a group or private dining for two-go there for excellence!) http://www.harvesthousegallery.com/ 
A fun-filled trip to Osoyoos BC (spa, resort and winery country for folk with money) where I shoot an osprey! 
A new baby great granddaughter was another milestone. 
When I reminisce about “ye old car-camping days (backpacking, too) I don’t want to admit how long it’s been. My new-to-me-Toyota Sienna will be so perfect for day excursions for extended family, seating a small village. But when I hit the road it will be the cat’s meow for getting my feet wet (hanging out in the van as close to the ocean as they allow) and stretching my legs on a few “easy-to-moderate” trails. Learning the art of sleeping will be the challenge, since a real bed is the only way to go. But…if needed I now have space to get my shut-eye. 
After the photo shoot of a new listing, the Sequim Lavender floral displays and aiming the lens during Shipwreck days my van heads to Montana for a week-I insist on seeing a moose! http://www.shipwreckfest.org/
So… I finally arrived and discover it will close in an hour, but there aren’t any ticket takers or docents, just men washing a car and others mending the front door. The “office’ was dark and full of boxed bottles of their famous mezcal. Barrels of the potion stored on the veranda. A dysfunctional bathroom with no light and no window, old stairs and floors to “tener cuidado” as I moved around, walking sticks at the ready. The orange eye of a pigeon stared and the floor showed results of hundreds of them! I navigated through massive rooms with worn frescos, rotundas, wallpaper from another era, tiles, insets of artwork on the walls. It was…
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So… I finally arrived and discover it will close in an hour, but there aren’t any ticket takers or docents, just men washing a car and others mending the front door. The “office’ was dark and full of boxed bottles of their famous mezcal. Barrels of the potion stored on the veranda. A dysfunctional bathroom with no light and no window, old stairs and floors to “tener cuidado” as I moved around, walking sticks at the ready. The orange eye of a pigeon stared and the floor showed results of hundreds of them! I navigated through massive rooms with worn frescos, rotundas, wallpaper from another era, tiles, insets of artwork on the walls. It was mind-boggling to see the devastation. How could this happen?
A “dwelling” like this was a whole universe for the people then. Towers, domes, lands,all in rural decay now. But in that devastation I eyed the beauty that once was, and I stood in awe.
Then the door was locked and I was left to wander an hour in the hot dusty streets. It was a lazy Saturday for the tiny, non-descript village. Across the plaza a family outing: trotting back and forth, horse, kids and wagon, the weekend diversion. Miniscule store, no restaurants. I have snacks, cold water. Then the church: I say hola to the cleaning lady, savor the well-worn patina of the pews and look up at the stately- statutes of saints. A kid does cartwheels in the street, but never mind, cars are rare here. I see seven men sitting under an awning and hope to buy another bottle of water, but there’s only beer. They seem to enjoy the chit-chat, though most of it was theirs, not mine. I move on, looking in vain for artistic shots, and return to the hacienda. More camera work.Instructions by my translator back at the tiny cafe in San Filipe were that I was to call the driver’s cell when ready to return by taxi. No such luck. The store woman calls: no such person at that number!
Now my little worry-wart antenna goes up. A local, very-beat-up car comes and will take me out to the highway where I may have luck with any taxi available! Obviously I made it, though wary. No taxis, no busses, and an English-speaking man offers to take me in his pickup for the 30 minute drive. Wary, yes, but trusting the gut again. The only problem was he wanted the same amount as the taxi- though I got a “wee” discount.
Back at the cafe no one is around that was supposed to know about my computer!! Scared? Yes. But it is found and finally an actual bus back home to the condo. Lesson learned: In some situations, it is best to pay half the fare, and when they return to get you, pay the other half!! No incentive, otherwise.
If anyone wonders about me, read the plethora of travel books I have, about solo-venturing women in obscure places and countries on the earth I wouldn’t even go to! Now those are scary-and I don’t plan to eat the strange parts of dead animals they place on your plate, that if you don’t eat it, you will offend them! I am grateful for always being safe.
Mary, my travel partner is glad I am home, safe and sound. Me. Too! But I wouldn’t have missed the wonder and memories I will have.
I discovered this great blog on the place and hope you enjoy it.
http://gringado.blogspot.com/2013/04/jaral-de-berrio.html
Ruth Dorsey Blog 