Magnificent Forest

Magnificent Forest

Comments 0 Comment

“You are entering a fragile, ancient forest,” the sign read. “Please stay on the trail.” So we entered the woods with reverence, walked quietly along the path, and guessed the age of the towering trees. 

To be old growth, a forest must contain trees more than 250 years old. Seattle’s Seward Park has them, though many of its specimens are “only” in the 200-year range.  But the Western Hemlocks are dying, the sword fern too.

How to protect them, to understand and prevent their demise? How to keep this “Magnificent Forest,” as it’s called, as dark, mysterious and magical as it is now? Researchers are working on it. And yesterday, we did our part: we looked, we marveled, we stayed on the trail. 

How the West Was Young

How the West Was Young

Comments 0 Comment

I write this post from the Columbia City neighborhood of Seattle, south of downtown and (from the sound of it) on the flight path to Seatac.

The hosts of this Airbnb have thoughtfully provided a local history book on Rainier Valley, so I’ve been learning about the history of this place, from early pioneer Isaac Ebey in the 1850s, through waves of settlement, Italians to Africans and more, to the opening of the light rail line in 2009. 

What strikes me about all of this is how recent it is. Not that I exactly live in the midst of antiquities, but compared with the East, the West is … young. 

(Lake Washington waders in 1905)

Another Word for Travel

Another Word for Travel

Comments 0 Comment

We spent much of yesterday in Discovery Park, exploring Capehart Forest, the West Point lighthouse and a steep trail that connects the two. A bald eagle soared above us.

West Point is one of 18 active lighthouses in the state, and the point of land it sits upon has been a gathering spot for thousands of years. As the largest park in a city of vistas, this place offers a stunning array of views to contemplate. 

What an apt name for a place of long history and tradition. Discovery: to be discovered, to find something unexpectedly in the course of a search. Another word for travel.

On Foot to the Sound

On Foot to the Sound

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday, the reprise of a walk I remember taking years ago: through Seattle’s Carkeek Park to Puget Sound. We started on a trail that my friend Peggy designed and helped bring about. From there we entered a woods so deep, light-filtered and northwestern that I wanted to bottle it and bring it home.

There were meadows and wildflowers and an old orchard. Pipers Creek was our constant companion. 

Shortly before we reached the water, we walked across a high bridge that straddled a railroad track. A freight train was moving through, car after car.  The view took on motion then, and the water glittered in the sun. 

Coast to Coast

Coast to Coast

Comments 0 Comment

As just mentioned, I grew up on car trips. For me, the idea of transcontinental travel is all mixed up with long, dusty drives. 

I may sound like Rip van Winkle, but it will never cease to amaze me that I can wake up on one side of the continent (albeit quite early) and be on the other side before lunch.

I pondered this last night, as I watched the last light of a long day fade to orange, then black.

Endangered Radio

Endangered Radio

Comments 0 Comment

“How long till Tucumcari?” 

“Why is it so hot back here?”

And … “Can you turn up the radio?”

These aren’t my children’s comments about long-distance travel; they’re my own. Or at least what can I remember of the cross-country travel my brothers and sister and I took as kids. 

We were stuffed into the backseat and nether regions of the old “woody” station wagon and driven more than two thousand miles, from Lexington, Kentucky to Hollywood, California, and other western destinations. The view out our windows was priceless: forests and grasslands, mountain and prairie, red rocks and cactus; the whole continent unfolding before us. And the soundtrack of our travels? AM Radio.

That’s going to change soon, according to a report in the Washington Post. Some automakers are already omitting AM Radio from their electric vehicles’ dashboards. And Ford is eliminating AM radio entirely.

There have been protests from station owners, first responders, listeners and politicians of all stripes (it’s a rare bipartisan issue), saying that the move may spell the end of AM radio entirely. 

I don’t listen to much AM radio — until I’m on a long-distance car trip. And then I tune into these staticky stations to catch the weather, oldies and talk. AM stations give you a taste of the places you’re driving through.  I’m sorry to hear that, like so much that is local and authentic, they’re endangered, too.

Decisions, Decisions

Decisions, Decisions

Comments 0 Comment

We leave tomorrow for more than a week in Seattle and environs, so the dust is flying. Among the items on my packing list is one that recurs on every packing list: book. The singular is deceptive. Often this means books.

Sometimes I’m dragging school work along.  And I used to pack work reading, which falls into the general category of books. Neither one of those this time.

Today’s task is simpler, though not without challenges. Today I need to find a good book to read, as in just read, as in for pleasure. Ideally, it would be a medium-sized paperback. Long enough to last me but light enough to keep my baggage allowance where it needs to be. 

I’ve dipped into the home library and found House Made of Dawn, by M. Scott Momaday, which I haven’t read but have always wanted to. It may come along. Also Crossroads, by Jonathan Franzen, a hefty library book, which I’ve listened to but not read in hard copy. 

There are still a few hours to think about this. Decisions, decisions. 

(Book packing with help from a young assistant.)

Potential

Potential

Comments 0 Comment

It’s a day for flowers, for corsages and nosegays. And at my house, it’s a day to admire the climbing rose, poised to begin its spring show. 

The buds are primed, some have popped, others are ready to.

It’s also, then, a day to celebrate potential. For Mom, who always believed in our potential. And for my daughters, whose potential I was privileged to see, treasure and help shape, for all that lies ahead for them. 

Happy 100th!

Happy 100th!

Comments 0 Comment

Today would have been Dad’s 100th birthday. He missed it by a little over nine years. I like to think he would have reveled in the day.

A milestone that once seemed impossible to reach is no longer such a feat. I’ve known a couple of centenarians and a slew of nonagenarians. Dad was briefly one of them, almost 91 when he passed away. 

The last time Dad was at our house, he loosened his tie, grabbed his cane and took to the dance floor. It’s a good way to remember him on his birthday … or any day.

A Benediction

A Benediction

Comments 0 Comment

The first thing I notice is the scent. The air is perfumed, mid-May incarnate. Early honeysuckle? I don’t think so. Viburnum perhaps?  I inhale as I walk, which supercharges each step. 

The next thing I notice is the mud. It’s been only a few days since I last walked in the woods, but it’s rained hard since then, and paths that were packed are now spongy, pliable.  My boots leave an impression. 

The stream is gurgling. The forest has greened and expanded with the much-needed moisture. It has moved up and out. It holds me as I walk, sifts its stillness down, a gift, a benediction.