Monday, December 22, 2008

A gift from the heart: The golden keychain

With Ilka in Salzburg, Austria, in 1983 (Photo by Robert Huber)

“The key is in the light at the window.” It was engraved on the back of a golden pocket watch that had been made into a keychain.

This is the gift I most cherish. An idea that keeps me sane in times of insanity.

The real gift was the friend who gave it to me, Ilka Chwatal -- a surprising figure in my life, a woman who loved aphorisms and spouted poetry without thinking. (She died in a kitchen fire in 2001.)

When I went to live in Vienna, Austria for a year working with the United Nations, a friend of a friend wrote a letter of introduction to her sister-in-law, Ilka. I called Ilka when I got there, and she immediately invited me for a tour of the city. She and her husband Peter drove me around, then invited me to their house, a modest apartment in the working-class 20th district.

I felt instantly at home. We became family. Ilka and Peter took me under their wing, introduced me to Austrian culture and cooking (Ilka made a mean Cordon Bleu – a Wiener Schnitzel stuffed with ham and cheese), took me on trips around Austria, Germany and Czechoslavakia.

When friends visited Vienna, Ilka always rolled out the red carpet and treated them like they were friends of the family.


My family also adopted her and Peter. When they visited the U.S., they stayed with members of our extended family across the country.
I drove them once from Minneapolis to Seattle on a memorable trip that included the Corn Palace in Mitchell, S.D., rainbows in the Black Hills, Mt. Rushmore and Geronimo, Western museums in Cody, Wyoming (“a thousand Winchesters!”), geysers, elk and buffalo at Yellowstone, and even the squalor of the Spokane Indian Reservation. When they saw the open expanse of I-90 sprawling as far as the eye could see, they gasped, in German, “Oh, what a huge street!” They loved Vashon.


The last time I saw Ilka was in northern Italy in 2000. Her husband Peter has visited recently

They taught me to love opera, which I’d always shrugged over before living in Vienna. Their favorite opera, Beethoven’s Fidelio, they’d seen scores of times.

After Ilka died, I invited Peter to the Seattle Opera production of Fidelio. We cried together as we wished Ilka were there. And then I saw the light. It’s in the window of my heart. “The key is in the light at the window.” I knew she was there.


(A version of this article appeared in the Vashon Island Beachcomber, December 2008.)

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Open Studio time..

Gordon's distinctive signs let people know this isn't just ANY old art studio


It’s a big deal around Soundcliff (our place) when the GRB Bells studio – which literally holds down the fort in our “garden level” – opens its doors and its larder to the public. This happens the first two weekends in May, and the first two weekends in December.

We spend a lot of time preparing the house, the garden, the bells and ourselves for the opening. And people usually appreciate the beauty and majesty of this place where we call home.
Gordon has been making small jewelry-scale bells for 27 years, and casts them in silver, bronze and gold. I get to polish the more than 200 designs!

Gordon in his bell studio in the lower level of our house

This year of course we were worried about the economy and how it would impact bell sales. They weren’t as brisk as some years, but actually we were pleased (and so were some other artists we spoke with who were on the Vashon Island Art Studio Tour ).

The entrance to Gordon's studio on Sunday December 14, after a fairyland snow the night before

People were amazed to see the new This Is It bell, which isn’t yet in production but which has all 16 lines of James Broughton’s poem on it:

This is It
and I am It
and You are It
and so is That
and He is It
and She is It
and It is It
and That is That

O it is This
and it is Thus
and it is Them
and it is Us
and it is Now
and Here It is
and Here We are
so This is It

People fell in love with bells, and some people fell in love with this part of the Island, which has such spectacular views of Mount Tahoma (Rainier).

The Forge (my writing cottage, left) and Soundcliff in the snow; lots of people walk in because parking is limited

Despite being under the weather, Gordon was an expansive and gracious host. He put out an amazing spread including mulled cider, juices, coffee, scones, brownies, nuts, fruits, vegetables, chips and dip, truffles, cheese and crackers. On the second Saturday night, the Open Studio morphed into an Open House and a number of our friends joined us for a holiday party.


So yes, the season is in full flower, and the snow only made it more so!

The yurts under the walnut tree at Fiddle Home Farm, where Emily and Shane make and sell beeswax candles and Ukrainian painted eggs

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

The We to Be

The kitchen resounds with creative anticipation as Doug Gosling puts finishing touches on the Mother Garden salad



Thanksgiving continues to be my favorite holiday, because it’s about gratitude and blessings, toasts and being with family and/or those you love most.

Our gathering at Soundcliff this year was slow, sweet, and amazingly delicious.

Our theme: The We To Be. Living the Future.

Our tradition includes a wonderful meal with courses brought by different guests, punctuated by poetry, beach walks, stories, and circles.

We had 11 for our repast, which began at 12:30 and went deep into the night.

Our first course included a quince paste with fromage blanc, lamb liver mouse, and goat cheese bruschetta with sun-dried tomatoes and roasted garlic.

Christopher Young chops rosemary while Whit Kimball shucks garlic as the meal takes shape, slowly and synergetically

Our soup was a mushroom delight – chantrelles and cauliflower mushrooms which Malcolm had foraged – in a light salmon broth. Local heaven.

The salad, from the Mother Garden at the Occidental Arts and Ecology Center, was a true work of art, complete with crostini and leek butter, baby carrots, beets, various kales, arugula, lettuces, tatsoi, rose petals, flowers from the Soundcliff garden, and dressed with a pineapple guava dressing. Doug Gosling always outdoes himself!

Gordon’s roasted brined turkey, cooked simply without stuffing, many said was the best they’d ever had. It was augmented by Christopher’s oven roasted vegetables and Mama Stamberg’s cranberry relish made and served with relish by Sequoia. Malcolm made rich gravy, and Michael Hathaway’s Brussels sprouts were so rich as to taste like foie gras (see recipe below).

Neil Robertson’s desserts, as always, were more than just. Having just won the prize for best restaurant dessert by Seattle Magazine for his chocolate upon chocolate special at Canlis, he decided to go “traditional” for Thanksgiving. That meant a deep dish apple pie that would have your mother’s mouth watering for weeks, a classic pumpkin pie with bourbon-whipped cream, and a pecan pie made with espresso and a hint of chocolate.

As part of our future theme, we celebrated the election of Obama in many ways. And the kickoff of the Big Joy Project, a celebration of James Broughton which includes a documentary which I'm producing. In honor of that, Michael Hathaway recited a poem he wrote for James at Eastertime, 1993:


SAP SONG

While admiring a white-and-cerise
blossoming Crabapple

for James Broughton

Here we are again, oh yes!, hear hear!
Oh Desirous! Oh God!
Oh light Love and oh bright Beauty!
Oh look where we are heading:
Oh yes, for Life again!
Be sweetly dazed and slightly dazzled:
Breeze me and sneeze me,
Waft me and small me,
Touch me and tell me: my petals, my bliss:
Don’t you just adore my special effects?!

Sprinkle picnics around me,
Weddings and prayers and trysts!
All hopes that rise,
and all fulfillments, all delights!

Doing our meticulous anabolizing work,
Transceiving the sun’s intents,
(which thus give form to ours),
We can only be Love Made Visible
again, now, so freshly, Oh Yes!!
And again, now, so freshly, Oh Yes!!

(more coming)
Michael Hathaway and Doug Gosling help prepare the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving evelskiver breakfast


It doesn't get much better than sunrise at Soundcliff!