News Trend Birthday Hikes 1 And 2|Actual

Another birthday for my fourth-born nature-loving daughter, another hike in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest, right?

Wrong.

On this birthday outing, we hiked two lovely trails in a single afternoon, each one a dream.

Gracie loves to lead our hikes. She also loves to double back, walk in circles around us, and tie us up in a life-size cat's cradle.

The original plan was to combine forest and beach in a single hike along the beach access trail at South Whidbey State Park. But due to beach erosion, that trail has been shuttered indefinitely. So we shifted our sights to the Wilburt Trail, an easy .8 mile stroll through old growth.

Approximately once every 2.Lima seconds, she swivels her head back to make sure we're still coming.

And what a tale these trees could tell, if only they could talk. Back in 1977, this lovely glade was slated to be clear cut until a local small-scale logger named Jack Noel recognized the value of rhis place as one of the few remaining stands of old growth on the island, and vowed to protect it. Noel rallied the community to help him, and together they formed a group called Save The Trees.

One key feature of an old growth forest is the wide spaces between the towering mature trees and plenty of leafy ferns on the forest floor in which the Ewoks hide.

Yes. You've heard the jargon. This is where it all began.

Way, way over our heads, the trees' canopies nearly block out the sun. Which on a rainy February day in the Pacific Northwest is a particularly funny joke.

The Wilburts, for whom the trail is named, joined the group and were apparently particularly stalwart defenders of said trees.

I'm no expert but over the years I've learned to tell most local evergreens by their distinctive bark. The Western Red Cedar features smooth, even lines that are just begging to be harvested by a Coast Salish native and woven into a delicate basket.

Fast forward to the happy ending: these majestic old trees were indeed saved, though not without being encircled by humans holding hands to protect the trees against chain saws and bulldozers.

Try as I might, I failed to convince my dog to pose for me inside this cedar tree.

She has her own mind.

I am not kidding. These woods gave birth to the tree-hugging movement and forever changed the way Washington manages its forests.

I

If a class of threatening loggers suddenly burst from the brush, I have no doubt that my birthday girl would hug the Ancient Cedar for all she's worth.

This particular tree, known as the Ancient Cedar and revered as the Queen of the Forest, dates back at least 500 years and was one of the favored trees protected by the tree-huggers. Visiting just a week after Valentine's Day, we noticed that the ground around the trunk was strewn with red rose petals, which led us to theorize that someone used this magical place for a marriage proposal. Brilliant idea.

Pretty feet. Good thing we brought plenty of towels.

We cruised the full length of the Wilbert Trail, then followed our steps back again. A great trail for little kids, though we saw mostly dogs with their humans.

Gracie explored thoroughly and repeatedly demonstrated her fearlessness of oozing black mud.

Which was all well and good. But now our muddy princess was in desperate need of some beachfront playtime and salt-water bathing stat.

She marched right into the water, well above the line of mud on her legs, and I breathed a sigh of contentment and relief.

Happily, our old friend Double Bluff Beach waited for us just a few miles down the island. The mud didn't even have time to dry before Gracie was romping across the sand and into the chilly water.

"Ducks! I see ducks!"

Plenty of dogs and their humans at this spot too, though even at high tide, the beach offers plenty of room to spread out. Gracie greeted a handful of dogs her size in a subdued fashion, then found a poodle wearing a turquoise fleece vest who really captured her fancy. Their joyful romp set us all to smiling.

The sky was filled with waves of  rolling grey clouds, straight in off the Pacific Ocean. We filled our lungs with snapping cold air till we felt renewed; raindrops fell but not hard enough to threaten our fun.

Gulls soared through the air, ducks floated in platoons across the waves which always delights Gracie, and we saw a bald eagle at the top of the bluff, watching us staring back up at him.

My husband came along and so we had binoculars. He's the type who always remembers to bring the binoculars.

We hitched a ride on the MV Tokitae, the older of Mukilteo's two ferries. Launched in 2014 to carry 144 vehicles across the water more than a dozen times a day.

And then, with the afternoon well spent, we headed home.

Okay it's not Palm Springs but I love this place.

Just a few miles back across the island, and then a hop, skip, and a jump across Possession Sound, and we're home.

On both of our crossings today, we were one of the last cars boarded, affording us a lovely view from our mirrors. Here's looking at you, Whidbey Island.

And while this marks the end of another splendid birthday outing, with not one but two satisfying adventures, we will soon be back, Whidbey Island. We've always got our sights set on you.

News Trend My 2018 Handmade Valentines|Actual

"I'm like the kid in kindergarten. I really do send Valentines to everyone."

-Susie Bright

Me too, Susie. Me too

I find few things as satisfying as gathering up bits of paper and bottles of paint, and busting out a flurry of Valentines at my kitchen table.

This year's batch was easy, fast, and fun.

I ripped watercolor paper into postcard-sized pieces.

I painted each card three times:

The first time, I covered the whole card with pink or red watercolor.

The second time, I added the same color to the bottom two-thirds of the card.

And the third time, I painted just the bottom third.

In order to get the crisp lines between the graduated colors, I patiently let each layer dry before I added the next.

That's a lie.

I may have waited. But I guarantee that I did not wait patiently.

Watercolor makes me crazy with all the waiting for layers to dry. But, as I must constantly remind myself, it's always worth the wait.

Once the watercolor layers were dry - and I mean thoroughly dry, out came the gold acrylic paint and a small, pointy brush.

The small, pointy brushes never stay properly pointy for long. Their bristles tend to wobble and spread, and again, if we're being honest, I'd rather just go buy a new one than try to coax an old timer to shape up and get the job done right.

I bought a new one for this project.

To really get top notch saturation on my gold Xs and Os, I double-coated sections of the letters as needed.

The Valentine manufacturing process is not for the faint of heart.

More dying time. Lots more drying time.

We ate dinner in the dining room for the better part of the week.

But in good time, my creations were ready to be tucked into envelopes and mailed off across the world.

Which is just as it should be. Love is meant to be shared, and Valentine's Day is the perfect time for me to remind all the people in my life that they matter.

And that is why, just like a kid in kindergarten,  I send Valentines to everyone I know.

* * * * *

Every year, I make my own Valentines and every year, they're just a little bit different:

2019 Valentines

My 2018 Handmade Valentines

2014 Draw This: Watercolor Valentines

2013 Valentines: Take Heart

2012 Handmade Valentine Love

News Trend Harbingers Of Spring |Actual

In autumn of 1986, I was a brand spanking new, first-time homeowner with an itch to plant a garden.

Along with a dozen bright red tulips and several miniature 'Tête-à-tête' daffodils, I bought a dozen purple crocus bulbs and without any concern for light requirements, planting depth, or soil amendments, I simply popped them into the ground.

My optimism trumped my garden experience. I simply hoped for the best.

Thirty some odd years later, I think it's fair to say my crocuses have taken hold.

For all these many years, these hardy fellows have been first to greet me as they spring forth in the last days of winter. The strengthening sunlight coaxes the blooms up among the old leaves of autumn and persuades the purple petals to open.

Each blossom waxes and wanes in just a day or two. Thankfully, more blossoms pop up every day, so the waves of new flowers rolls on for a week or two.

Even so, the season of the crocuses is always over too soon. Which always makes me feel a bit sad.

I remind myself every year that they are just the first of many flowers that will pop up here and there across my yard for months to come.

They are not the end.

They are just the beginning.

They are the harbingers of spring, these purple crocuses of mine, and even though I'm now quite an experienced gardener, they still fill me with optimism.

News Trend Sunny Sanctuary|Actual

Seattle winters can be murder on houseplants.

Literally.

The combination of extreme low light coupled with tons of humidity - have you heard that it rains fairly often in Seattle? Mhmm - sets most green growing things up for a double whammy. The diminished sunshine sends the poor babies into hibernation, but the humid air keeps pumping water into their soil that simply cannot be put to good use.

And plants die.

It's a very sad scene.

Now I've suffered through this culling of the herd for many years now, and I've learned two tried-and-true tricks that have proven to save herbaceous lives:

1. Water only when the soil is bone dry.

2. Saturate the poor struggling babies in sunshine.

I'm very thankful that the back side of my house faces south and we get some really fantastic light, even through the heavy gloom of  so-called "marine layers" that blanket our skies all winter long.

And from its perch on the second floor, my bedroom catches more rays than any other room in the house.

So it has become a healing place for plants who are in trouble.

^ Air plants and succulents do not like winter at all. I've mourned the passing of so many of these little sun-loving darlings that I take no chances at all. From Halloween till Easter, my precious babies get prime real estate in front of my bedroom window, and I examine them every morning to be sure they have just enough but never too much water.

Nothing is too good for these tender beings. They reward my hard work with their adorableness.

^ This enthusiastic trailing plant needs a ton of sunshine and shockingly dry soil to keep its leaves from dying off in droves. Over the years, it's lived in various places around the house but the vines are now happy only when swooped across my bedroom window. I've done nothing particularly intentional to prop the vines; I pretty much just tuck them up over the curtain rod and they are content. New leaves unfurl daily.

How can I not love this one. She asks for so little and gives so much. .

^ Ten years ago, this wooden bowl from the thrift store served as home to four or five pathetically drooping and desperate succulents. After moving the poor collection of ne'er-do-wells from one place to another, I settled them here on a bamboo swing. And ever since...Well, the results speak for themselves. Pale green petals on long, elaborate stems, jade plants that curve and arch toward the ceiling, and burro's tail for days.

This class of happy campers survive on neglect and sunshine, and I couldn't be more proud.

A couple years ago, I took on this peperomia as a rescue from my fourth-born. Though her bedroom also gets amazing sun, she had housed it on the lower shelf of a bookcase and lost patience with its failure to thrive. After experimenting with several locations around my room, I discovered that my husband's nightstand is her favorite spot, and she has rewarded me (him?) with lots of new thick, glossy, and deeply colored leaves.

She wasn't a lazy plant. Just misunderstood. I'm glad she's feeling better.

^ Snake plants are known for their much-appreciated ability to prosper and grow even in shadowy corners. This specimen settled into our north-facing bedroom last year, and seemed to be doing fine. But this past weekend, when I plopped him into the bathtub for his monthly watering, I learned differently. At first glance, he looked healthy enough; I found a handful of new blades sprouting up among the oldsters. But to my dismay, I also noticed that a half dozen of the taller leaves had dried out, leaving brown paper-thin sections that ran down from the tips, sometimes just a few inches but in some horrifying cases, all the way to their base.

I quickly realized that this was a full-blown plant emergency.

Hayley, you know exactly how I feel.

^ So now my snake plant has been relocated here by my side of the bed where I can keep a close eye on the darling. He made need just a scooch more water than the one-monthly regime I had him on before, but I have full faith in the healing powers of my sunny sanctuary to restore him - and all my other winter-weakened plants - to full health.

News Trend Checking In From Coronavirus Central|Actual

In other news, spring is arriving right on schedule.

Greetings from U.S. Cororavirus Central.

My home state of Washington has catapulted itself onto the world stage this week with eleven deaths so far from the scourge of COVID-19 (as of March 6 at 11 a.M.). Nine of those connect to a nursing home in Kirkland, a Seattle suburb about twenty miles away from me. A tenth victim died in downtown Seattle; the eleventh here in my very own Snohomish County.

Put those numbers up against the entire country, where there's been only one other death, total.

So yeah. At the moment, Seattle is pretty much Ground Zero

We've all seen the shots of empty aisles in local stores where antibacterial hand gel and toilet paper are supposed to be - last weekend, people definitely went a little crazy on the stockpiling.

I heard Whole Foods ran out of rice and lentils.

Such a Seattle dilema.

But I'm happy to report that here in my little corner of the world, life rolls on more or less as usual.

Crowds at the gym, the library, the grocery store are more or less the same.

Some of my students were exposed not to coronavirus but to hand, foot, and mouth disease last weekend, so just to be on the safe side, I cancelled our regular classes and recorded instructional videos for my students instead. You can check them out on my Youtube channel if you're interested in multiplying with scientific notation or factoring trinomials.

Worship rolls on at my church, both on Sunday mornings and our Thursday evening Lenten services. Coronavirus has caused the regular coffee hours and soup suppers to be cancelled; eating together increaases risks of transmission, so that's a prudent move.

My husband reports that life is a bit quieter in his neighborhood at work since Amazon sent their employees off to work at home. But it's business as usual at his office, and while there may be a few more empty seats than usual on his commute, the buses are still running on normal schedules.

Gas stations are busy.

Target's still hopping.

Traffic still sucks.

Undoubtedly, life is continuing apace, with few visible upsets or cancellations.

Still, I'm left with the impression that we Seattlites are all paying attention, doing what we reasonably can to keep calm and carry on.

Which is just what we should be doing, here in coronavirus central.

Update: Later this same day, I stopped by the medical clinic for a routine appointment. Meeting me at the door was a staff person wearing a mask who asked me if I had come to be treated for a cough or a fever. "Nope, I'm good," I returned. She smiled and turned her question on the man who had walked in behind me. Forty-five minutes later, as I was walking out the door, she was still firing away.

Then I ran over to IKEA where the always-busy store was spilling over with plenty of customers, though it's hard to compare to what might have been happening on a non-pandemic day. As I sat in the pick-up area waiting for my wardrobe shelves to be pulled, I munched a frozen yogurt cone. After the last bite, I felt a tiny bit of the cone tickling my throat. I cleared it, once or twice, trying to project a non-coughing sound. More of a harrumph than a hack-hack. Didn't solve my persoalan but I dared not actually cough as that event now sets off a collective shudder through any group of people in public, and sends at least a few of them for the exits. I suffered in silence until my shelves were presented and loaded into my car. Then I climbed into the driver's seat, locked the door, and coughed to my heart's content.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend My New Elephant |Actual

I had just wrapped up yet another Algebra 2 lesson with one of my students and was walking with her to the front door when she suddenly stopped in the middle of my living room. Gesturing to her right, she said, "I just love this."

I looked where she pointed.

From the bottom up, I saw

• My childhood collection of what we always called "albums" but now sound way cooler as "vinyl"
• A low-budget turntable handed off to me by my oldest and a ten-year-old Bose player loaded up with my 2006 iPod.
• A Swedish ivy and a cactus who showed up for the bright patch of sunshine.
• And a large and small pair of bright yellow hex boxes circa 2012 from Hobby Lobby.

Over the years, I've changed the contents of those yellow shelves a hundred times, never quite satisfied, but I suddenly realized that that seemed to be the focus of my student's observation.

Oh, my elephants.

I do kind of have a thing for elephant figures. Some are collected, some gifted, they are sprinkled all around the house. But yes, a fair number of them have migrated here to the yellow cubbies and as my student pointed out, they have a certain charm.

^ Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. I was milling around the thrift store, shaking my brain loose from its usual patterns as only a mill around the thrift store can, when I saw this fellow.

A stone elephant.

I knew we were destined to be together.

^ So I brought him home and added him to the herd.

Or, I should say, her.

My elephants are mostly girls. I'm all about the matriarchs.

^ Here she stands, welcomed to the group by two ornate ladies that my mother-in-law brought home from India and kept in her own collection of miniatures for many years before they came to me.

See the gold wire wrapped around the newcomer's head? Attached to that is a tiny carved elephant that a freshman year dorm mate bought for me when I positively drooled over hers. The gold necklace and clasp on which it was originally hung have long since faded into history, but the tiny charm remains, and I treasure it beyond reason.

^ If I had taken these photos a week ago, the plant in this white elephant planter would have looked quite different, long green tendrils gracefully reaching up and trailing down.

Then we had a week of sunshine and the poor little plant died of either surprise or dehydration. Well, as you can see, she didn't completely die but lost over half her leaves to this freakishly unnatural phenomenon.

Sunshine in winter is quite a shock to all our systems.

The glass elephant at the planter's feet came to me seven years ago, a gift from my two younger daughters that they found on a visit to Dale Chihuly's Museum of Glass in Tacoma. I cherish the little rascal.

^ The lower, smaller shelf is home to a brass baby that I found several summers ago on a different trip to the thrift store. I immediately fell in love with her because she feels substantial and heavy in the hand, which is a pleasing feature for an elephant. But her right front and back legs are slightly shorter than her left, and I quickly discovered that this fatal flaw caused her to tip over. Unfailingly.

But I brought her home anyway and fixed her up with a tiny bit of that sticky putty business that normally affixes posters to dorm room walls. Fatal flaw no more.

^ And so it was that I stood in front of my elephants again today and fell in love all over again with each one of them, tucked into their cozy and freshly cleaned yellow home.

^ And you better believe that when my student comes back tomorrow, I'll be sure to introduce her to my new elephant.

News Trend Great State Burger |Actual

We were knee-deep into a Seattle shopping trip at University Village when we realized we were starving.

Three adult daughters with very different ideas about  what would make for a good lunch.

A wide variety of restaurants at the mall, all carrying premium price tags

And me working a new eating plan requiring protein, protein, and more protein.

As we lounged on the couches in the Anthropologie furniture display, I flipped open my Google app, and took a deep breath, knowing that this was going to be a project.

And then, straight from heaven, the perfect inspiration fell onto my comfortably seated lap.

Great State Burger.

Fun but not fancy.

Just a few blocks away.

Favorited by all my offspring.

And well within my eating plan parameters.

Besides putting out a delicious menu of cheeseburger basics, Great State emphasizes natural food from local sources. The beef is grass-fed, the milkshakes  have real strawberries, the packaging is all compostable or recyclable: this is the kind of  business that I really like to support.

So off we sailed, and soon we were seated in quirky schoolroom-style wooden chairs with turquoise accents, our heart-eyes beaming at the tray full of beautiful food. In silence, we devoured every morsel and then sat back and smiled at each other in delicious satisfaction.

Great State Burger was a perfect choice for lunch.