News Trend Discovering Sunsets|Actual

"Mom, the sun's going down! You want to come with us to the look-out and watch?"

The next sound you'll hear is a crash as I drop whatever cooking pot I'm scrubbing or wash pan I'm toting around the camp, quickly wipe my forever-damp hands, and rush off to see.

^ Scooters are my daughters' favorite mode of transport at camp. Every evening after dinner,

they zoom around and bring me back stories of the interesting sights they have seen.

Ranger always prefers to walk.

The campground at Kalaloch perches on a windy bluff high atop the wide sandy beach. Though most of the camp is sheltered by low, gnarled, and windswept evergreens, there are three open areas where one can hike down a steep path to the beach or linger up top to take in the vista.

And the viewpoint at the southern end of the campground, the one that we think of as ours, is a lovely place to catch the setting sun.

It's also a perfect place for star-gazing but that's a story for another day.

Of all the dozens of Kalaloch sunset photos I've taken in my life, this one is my favorite.

The camera technology leaves plenty to be desires, but the composition and color are spot on.

If the breezes are not too cold, and we don't mind getting our feet sandy one more time, we might slip off our shoes and tiptoe down the path to walk at the edge of the water and watch the sunset from ground level.

Up or down, either vantage point is lovely.

True confessions. I am a borderline pyromaniac and I love to build irrationally large fires.

This baby is just getting started.

Some nights, we plan ahead for a beach fire. Temperatures drop quickly as the sun sinks low, and even our tempered Pacific Northwest blood runs cold on the best of summer days. The sensation of the over-heated warmth from a roaring fire against my slightly sunburned and significantly sandblasted skin takes me to my happy place real fast.

Lazy shadows play against the sand, but the beach logs capture and reflect the sun's setting rays.

As the sunset's colors fade against the pale white beach logs, we kick sand into our waning fire and break down the burning embers, signalling the end of another lovely day at the beach.

"Please tell me it's bedtime."

And good ol' Ranger knows that it's time to head up to camp where our cozy tent and warm sleeping bags await us all.

* * * * *

My family and I go to Kalaloch a lot. Here are stories from our trips over the years:

2019

Wide Open Spaces

Whale Bones

Ways To Play

The World Of Packet Dinners

Windows

2018

Walking On Rialto Beach

2017

Gracie Goes To Kalaloch

2015

The Last Day Of My Summer Vacation

2014

With Joy And Wild Abandon

With Hope And Desperate Longing

With Peace And New Beginnings

2012

It's All About The Food

It's All About Playing On The Beach

It's All About The Sunsets

It's All About The Artistic Inspiration

It's All About The Memories

2011

Discovering Tide Pools

Discovering Sunsets

2010

Balanced Rocks

sometime before 2010

Golden Pup

News Trend Making Do|Actual

"Mothers are the necessity of invention." -Bill Watterson

"Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity." -Voltaire

This week I discovered, as I often do, that my month was bigger than my paycheck.

And while I'm not exactly destitute, I am stubbornly committed to honoring my grocery budget and living within my temporarily limited means. Which means that for the next few days - until the next paycheck hits - I'll need to get creative in order to feed my family the meals to which they have become accustomed. In other words, I'll be making do.

* * * * *

For my husband, the masalah is granola.

Every weekday morning, after hitting his snooze exactly once, my husband rolls out of bed at 4:30 a.M. I know that because many days, I'm still drifting off to sleep as his alarm is calling him to action.

By five a.M., he's downstairs feeding Gracie her first meal of the day, which after eating she promptly sprints back upstairs and claims his pillow as her own, and fixing a little something for himself: a cup of Chobani Greek yogurt with a handful of granola stirred in.

Blueberry,

raspberry,

blackberry,

and cherry

are his yogurt flavors of choice, and every weekend he picks up five fresh cups to get him through the work week ahead. Since he shopped last weekend before the money ran out, his yogurt supply will coast through to the beginning of the next pay period, no dilema.

His granola situation is a different matter. We're fresh out of the Quaker product that he normally uses. So tonight I got my Betty Crocker on, and baked him up a batch of simple, quick, and easy homemade granola.

Forget Betty Crocker, I actually channeled Euell Gibbons, that wacky natural food activist from the 1960s who asked us if we ever ate a pine tree while advertising Post Grape Nuts. Though this recipe called for neither parts of a pine tree, cattail, or any of the other random plants Euell pitched to us, my homemade granola is hearty, healthy and best of all, darn tasty.

I may just start a little granola habit of my own.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, my fourth-born is facing a bit of a struggle with her work lunches. Inventive as she is, packing such delicacies as baked beans, hummus and carrots, apples and peanut butter, or leftover enchiladas, lately she has been craving sandwiches made on French bread.

Of which we are fresh out.

So why not, I decided, bake her some French bread from scratch?

Digging into my cookbook stash, I found what I was looking for:James Beard's Book on Breads, purchased by me circa 1984 and used fairly consistently ever since. Running a quick finger through the index, I found a straightforward recipe for French-style bread - ever the perfectionist, Mr. Beard notes that this is not technically proper French bread but a reasonable facsimile which is good enough for me. Setting the dough to rise before dinner and popping the shaped loaves into the oven afterwards, I soon had two pretty loaves of crusty bread cooling on my kitchen counter.

And within minutes, my family discovered this bounty. A small bread-sampling party ensued, complete with warm butter and lingonberry jam.

I'm happy to report that six sandwich-sized segments of bread were protected from the lip-smacking horde, safely wrapped and eventually stashed in the freezer, where only my fourth-born will remember to look when she's ready to pack her next work lunch.

I've already promised to bake more when this batch runs out.

* * * * *

With this quick one-two punch of normally-I-buy-it-but-today-I'm-gonna-make-it success under my belt, I'm wondering what else I might take on as a pantry-to-table DIY.

Pita bread?

Almond crackers?

Baba ganoush?

I do have that leftover eggplant kicking around my vegetable drawer.

We shall just have to wait and see what I might cook up next in the name of making do.

News Trend Gracie's Unexpected Swim|Actual

Gracie pranced down the dock near the boat ramp, tail waving happily, nose to the breezes of a cool spring day.

I watched her every move.

A ways out from shore, she turned to the edge of the dock, and sidled up into an open space between the low guard rails.

Tentatively, she reached her front left paw down toward the water, as if to test the distance.

And then, before my eyes, she stepped off the dock and tumbled into the deep water below.

She did not catch the actual fall, but my fourth-born's quick camera trigger finger captured much of the action during Gracie's rescue.

I stood a few feet away, horrified by the considerable splash..

Peering over the edge of the dock, I watched her sink deeper and deeper from the force of her fall.

Body twisting, limbs flailing.

Long red hair waving under the water.

Bubbles rising to the surface.

Though she happily wades in lakes, rivers, and ocean waves, I don't know that Gracie has ever swum in water over her head. The experience seemed to take her by surprise.

Within what was probably three seconds but felt like forever, Gracie's head bobbed back up into the air. Her face was streaming with water and filled with shock and surprise, her eyes immediately locked on to mine.

Help, she silently pleaded.

Her first instinct was to try to climb back up on the dock.

And I had the exact same idea. But my brain quickly pointed out to me that hauling one hundred pounds of wet, wriggling dog a good half meter up to the level of the dock was a bad idea whose most likely outcome would be me in the cold water next to her.

Thankfully, the wise first responder who lives inside me and comes out exactly when I need her most had a better idea.

"Come on, Gracie! Come this way," I heard myself saying.

As I called to my splashing, thrashing pup, our eyes still locked as we sought to solve this masalah together, I applied gentle pressure to her long leash and slowly backed down the dock toward land.

^ Once she got the hang of deep water swimming,

my girl looked like a lush, red seal, swimming like a total pro.

She got the idea. Her panic slowly cooled as she discovered the rhythm of swimming. Still watching each other intently, Gracie put together a competent doggie paddle as I guided her down the length of the dock toward shore.

Around the halfway point, Gracie began to tire. I noticed her pace slackening and her head drooping just a bit lower in the water.

"Come on, baby! You can do it! You're almost there!"

The moment when her feet touched ground.

The encouragement worked. Just a few seconds later, Gracie's feet touched what must have been the immensely satisfying solidity of the concrete boat ramp, and her relief was palpable.

"Well, that was actually kinda fun!"

Finally, Gracie's eyes let go of mine as she marched happily up the boat ramp onto terra firma, shook hard twice, and then circled back round to greet me. Her tail wagged water drops all over me and I did not mind one bit.

* * * * *

Gracie's unexpected swim was an exciting opening act for our hike around Langus Riverfront Park in Everett. Though the rest of our adventure was full of interesting surprises, my crazy dog's fall into the brink was definitely the high point of the day.

News Trend Langus Riverfront Trail|Actual

Yesterday, after my dog fell off a dock into the Snohomish River and quickly taught herself how to swim, we took a lovely hike on the Langus Riverfront Trail. Winding our way through wetlands and river country, the four of us felt like we were far removed from the noisy bustle of urban life, though the chaos of I-lima and the busy streets of Everett streamed all around our peaceful oasis.

And as I prepare to share our adventures with you, I have to be honest. While there are some interesting sights to be seen along the way, this is basically a bunch of pictures of my dog enjoying a good time in the wilderness.

So if photos of furry red dogs on the hunt are your thing, today is your lucky day.

^ Langus Riverfront Trail winds south along the Snohomish River. Urban industrial scenery discreetly hides behind the low landscape, and a wide paved path unfolds along the water. On this cool afternoon in May, conditions are perfect for an adventure.

^ Spring grasses are tall enough for Gracie to bury herself up to her shoulders in luxuriant green. Just imagine how fresh and invigorating the scent of new growth must be to her super-powered nose.

^ Pale yellow flowers against the grey waters. Delicate and clean.

^ Here's an angle that shows how close the kisi-kisi lies to the calm, reflective waters. Here is also another photo of my dog with her head buried in grass.

^ Bald eagle sitting on top of a tower watching us walk by. He was not impressed.

^ On this Thursday afternoon, my two younger daughters and I pass a total of four people - two individuals and one couple. To say we have the place to ourselves is no stretch.

^ "But are you still back there? Please don't leave me."

^ Gracie totally grasps the concept of sidewalks and applies her suburban street knowledge to hiking paths. She definitely understands about staying in her lane. But every now and then, she can't resist the urge to do a bit of four-wheeling and I love to see her romping through the long grass.

^ "Stand back, people. I'm working here."

"Yep, I think my nose has covered every inch of this ground."

^ "I'm ready to move on. Are you?"

^ After a mile or so, our kisi-kisi bids farewell to the main body of the Snohomish River and turns abruptly north to follow a smaller branch of the river. The last few traces of civilization disappear and our magical mystery tour moves deeper into the realm of wilderness.

^ Does she not look like a little red shaggy bear cub? We think so. And we discuss this matter at least ten times a day.

^ Verdant plants line the wetlands along the kisi-kisi, filling the foreground with leafy mounds of green. Gracie would love to wade in but with respect to the wildlife, we agree that she should stay out.

^ As we work our way north along the mainland, Spencer Island sits invitingly just across the water. At some point, we will find a bridge, cross over, and hike the trail on the island. Besides being beautiful, the island is a sanctuary for wild birds.

^ We come around a bend in the trail, and BAM, there's the bridge we've been looking for, suddenly right in front of us. But Gracie is sidetracked in the brush one more time, and we are patient with her.

^ Finally! Spencer Island, here we come.

^ The view from the bridge. We have been hiking on the right side of the water, and we are now ready to tackle the island on the left.

^ But alas. Dogs are not welcome on the main island trail. So Gracie and I wait here while my daughters do a brief exploration, and when they come back, we all tackle the short, dog-friendly trail spur.

^ Even on the dogs-allowed trail, spring hikers are cautioned to keep their pets from disturbing the nesting birds. Lucky for us, our bird dog is naturally inclined to slip quietly through the green, testing each footstep and indicating with her posture if any birds are near. I can read her like a book, and I'll have plenty of advance warning to steer her away from any nests.

^We all stand stock still to take in the majesty of this blue heron. We first discover it sitting on a downed log in this marsh, and then suddenly, its wings opened to startling breadth and with slow, purposeful, powerful strokes, it lifted off into the sky.

^ The trail is becoming more narrow and the clouds of pesky gnats and piswinks flying into our faces are becoming quite annoying.

^ Rugosa rose. Okay, I'm less annoyed now.

^ Now we reach the end of the dog-friendly trail, and signs ask us to turn around and take our tail-wagging friends back toward civilization. Fair enough. Enjoy your solitude, wild birds. Thank you, Langus Riverfront Trail.

^ And so we head back, my third-born and me, with Gracie - as always - leading the way.

News Trend Court And Kylee's Succulent Party|Actual

A sweet Sunday afternoon spent with two clever plant ladies and a handful of other women making  succulent planters.

So simple. So satisfying. So doggone fun.

Court met my third-born in their freshman college dorm. They became fast friends, eventually roommates, and now the kind of besties that will last forever.

Court is, in a word, a gem.

Kylee is Court's older sister and business partner. She is a part of the bestie package and a gem in her own right.

Together, our hostesses bought up all the supplies for the projects:

two kinds of plant containers,

a variety of succulents,

white gravel,

potting mix,

a lovely assortment of mosses and

a cute rose quartz apiece.

They stylishly arranged all these morsels out on a table,

put together a few examples for inspiration,

and then turned us loose.

Essential oils were involved. And also snacks. Yum.

Now here is the thing.

I know how to make succulent planters.

I've done it a million times.

And I could have easily gathered up my own supplies and tackled this project on my own.

But there is something very special and different about making succulent planters with friends.

Old friends

and new friends

and people whom you may never see again but certainly enjoy knowing for the afternoon.

And that is why I'm very glad I went to Court and Kylee's succulent party.

* * * * *

In my opinion, you can never have too many succulents, and you can never have too many stories about succulents. Here are a few to choose from:

Court And Kylee's Succulent Party

Succulent Season

Franklin Park Conservatory

Confessions Of A Crazy Plant Lady

Pallet Possibilities

Another Rainy Day

Growing Things

This Is War

All In A Day's Work

Design Dilemmas

Wait For It

Shopping Spree

Saturday Spring Satisfaction

Sprouts

Tiny Tinsel Tree

Biology 101

Little Things