Birthday Hike

 

So on my birthday this year, I decided to.. hide. I mean hike.

 

Jack and I started off the morning around the neighborhood. For short walks, especially through dumb city-dogs-are-people-too territory, Jack with a large toy in his mouth is for the best. Don't tell Uncle Bobby we stole his football from the cabin. Oopsie.

After rush hour died down, we went up to the Tokul area for a loop and play in a big field up there. My mom told me she was sick of all the pictures of just Jack, so I took a selfie, hiking with dog style. I love that he's looking at the camera.

 

 

After lunch at the North Bend Bar and Grill, we hung out at Snoqualmie Point Park. Basically the day was jumping from one big place to play fetch to another. Once he knows where we are going, he grabs a ball and pulls me until we get to the field. Like a Labrador Retriever pulling to the lake I suppose.

 It was so windy up there. He's not pleased that I'm staging this photo. Note the mud all over his face. We had a fun day. :)
 

Oh, here's the mud. And the ball. On the way back from the field. Noticing a trend here...

 

Here's another selfie. That word sucks. Here's another picture of the two of us. Jack looks like a horse here, but the other ones I took are either him barking or my hair billowing in my face. Horse picture it is.

 

 

Nice day off from work spent at a slower pace with my best buddy. We went home and I met a couple of friends and my family for dinner too - lucky me!

 

The day ended with a quick walk through the park near our house. Credit where credit is due, Jess took this picture, but I had to use it here. I love it so much - even considering the sissy daisy leash.

 

I often toy with the idea of tattooing the silhouette of his ears on the inside of my finger. Those crazy batman ears deserve a tribute. :) 

 

 

 



Is that how you spell "Porpoise?"

 

Our family is fortunate to have a place to "get away from it all," that isn't hard to get to. The cabin is located in a tiny little blip of neighborhood near the Hood Canal Bridge, leaving us with miles of empty beaches for leash-free romping with dogs, historic towns to explore and overall quietness to absorb.

 

Not a particularly pretty cabin, but who the hell cares? It's by the beach and away from the city.

 

Jack normally starts to bark once we hit the bridge, and I swear, I can feel stress lift off once the truck tires hit the grating of the bridge.

 

In the fall and winter, there isn't a soul in sight. Pull through the Port Gamble coffee stand and hit the bridge (not literally, don't do that.) Once in Jefferson County, take your pick - Teal Lake, Ludlow Falls, the tidelands, the golf course loop, or our own secret places, found during explorations over the years. Jack and I know them all.

 

This is our secret place. With the exception of the summer months, which tend to produce masses (and by masses, I mean five or 10 people) of strangers tromping up and down the shoreline, this place is deserted. Sometimes we slip kayaks into the water and glide through the frigid water - without the disturbance of a heavy boat motor, seals, otters, and Dahl's Porpoises make their appearances known with little reservation. Once, a small pod of porpoises took the crab out of my pot as I pulled it to the surface. In a kayak, no less.

Here we are as a family, on (what we have named) Seven Sisters, this small inlet near Dragon Head Island (also not an official name.) When the tide is out like this, you can walk all the way to the island. When tide is in, the water is all the way up to the tree line there. It is, without a doubt, one of my most favorite places in this universe. It's also where Romeo, my brother's dog, learned to swim. :)

 

I think this was Mother's Day or something. My mom always gets mad when I take pictures of her (wonder where I get it) but I am so happy I snapped this picture. My brother's girlfriend and Romeo are there too, behind Dad. 

When I first bring friends up to the cabin, they always seem shocked that I carry a beer through the neighborhood and walk Jack down to the beach without so much as a collar on. That's just the nature of the territory. (Plus I have a ball in my pocket and Jack wouldn't leave his toy for anything.)

 

I was lucky to spend several warm evenings like this one last summer. I think this trip was Jess, Daisy, and another friend. We hauled the fire pit out of the shed and loaded up with some firewood, two salty, soggy, and blissfully tired dogs, and a beer or two.

 

We actually do this in the winter too - just pile on the blankets and trade the beer for hot cocoa. :)

 



 

I'm one of those dog parents that think everyone in the world wants to see pictures of my buddy. Because he's perfect and handsome and, and, and... Sorry. I take a lot of pictures of Jack.

 

Below is a photo I took in Port Gamble at the aforementioned coffee stand. He's looking across the big fields that they do Civil War reenactments on, towards the woods that he knows we are about to run into. Port Gamble is a tiny (teeny tiny) historic town people have probably driven through on their way along highway 104.

 

Sort of the same deal as the beach near the cabin. Summertime yields a surge in tourism, but it's still not a huge attraction. The General Store just opened up a new café and bar - if I lived there full time, the ol' pocketbook and I would have a situation on our hands. It is so good. So delicious, friendly staff, and a young feeling respite in the middle of an old timey area. Oh - and the best damn catsup you'll ever have in your life. I don't know what it is, but the waffle fries and catsup are a must have. The garden burger is a delight as well. Okay... now I'm trying to justify taking a ferry across tonight.

 

Deep breath.

 

Seriously though, if you're already planning on passing through Port Gamble, I highly recommend the General Store Café. You won't be sorry.

Remember when you were a kid (and maybe now too) when you would wake up with ease on weekend days, and have to claw your way out of bed on weekdays? Kind of the same deal here.

 

This is sunrise. You know.. like.. at the start of the day. I see almost all the sunrises at the beach. Each one a little more beautiful than the last.

 

Curse the spots in the photos. Arg.

 

These are from October, judging from the color of the leaves. I can't tell who is in this photo, maybe Daisy and Jessie.

 

Here is a sunrise picture from the very break of day. Jack was chasing a crab here I think. I love this shot because of the obvious solitude and silence and.. majesty? Perfectness?

 



 

Who is Princess Porpoise, you ask?

 

She only comes out in summertime, when sitting in the sand is tolerable. And she lives near a huge boulder that the porpoises surface out from, unofficially named "Porpoise Point." I've yet to capture them on camera - usually because I'm not carrying one at the beach but also because they're fast buggers, and cell phone cameras just ain't that quick yet.  

 

Okay this is getting long and weirder by the minute.

Ode to Sky Nursery at the Holidays

 

Now that I work so close to Sky Nursery, I can often swoop in for a quick coffee break at their NEW coffee stand. (Do you hear me, Sam?!) Up and running as of last week, the stand offers a soup of the day, bagels and pastries, and of course, coffee. Coffee in all its splendor. Oh, the toddy mocha is the stuff daydreams are made of. Seriously, I shall never tire of running in, avoiding the major line and crabby attitude at the Starbucks across the street, and making a loop in the greenhouse with my hot drink in hand, before returning to work.

 

But. It gets better.

 

Really.

 

Come my child, I will show you the way.

 

Christmas at Sky Nursery.

 

Can we talk about how wonderful this place is? Starting.. mmm.. Halloween, the nursery begins to undergo its transformation. The walls of seed packets and gift items are pushed to the sides and back of the nursery and nearly half of the indoor supply area is dedicated to ornaments, gifts, and decorations for the holidays.

 

Add one more thing to the fifteen minute coffee break. Jump into car. Race to nursery. Buy coffee. Take lap in greenhouse. Frolic through Christmas area. Go back to work.

 

Here's a taste of the magic:

 

Berries. On sticks. For decorating. I must have these.  

 

I love this green. And the foliage is soft - not prickly like non-holiday shrubbery.

 

And the primroses! In every color imaginable. Sometimes to cheer myself up (and our front yard,) I just buy a couple (MILLION) of these to plant in pots on by the front door.

 

By now in my daily walk, I have probably spilled coffee on myself as I crouched down to pet a dog walking through the greenhouse, picked up and put down about a hundred different plants I can't live without, and am emotionally preparing myself for the look-don't-touch walk I must force upon myself.

 

Ready?

 

The sign near this fellow reads, "Better Gnomes and Gardens."

Wit and Christmas? I can't take it.

 

 

Oh there's the sign. See?! Amazing.

 

 

Different trees for different themes, of course. Above is the mushroom/fairy/gnome/magicalness tree. Below is the camping and nature-y section. I almost bought the teardrop trailer ornament for a friend (who may or may not have let me and Jack stay in her teardrop trailer one night.)

 

Santa Clauses and snowmen are my one true weakness.

I could go on forever, because, well, the Christmas section goes on... forever. But I won't. I will exercise restraint. Also, it's 11:21 p.m. and I have to be at work at 8:00 tomorrow.

 

One last thing though.

 

Christmas tree.

 

My family always jokes (can jokes be serious statements delivered without a laugh or a smile?) about how traumatic Christmas tree selection was during my brother and my childhood. Granted, I do recall that... anything regarding one item being purchased for both kids resulted in a tantrum of some kind, I always remember the Christmas tree purchase fondly. Maybe that means I always got my way.

 

Anyway. My parents insist on a fAkE tree. Ugh. Alas, their house knows no longer the sweet aroma of pine. Their carpet stays clear of the trail of pine needles and that sticky pitch crap, and no one chucks the broken strands of lights off the deck. Yes, Mom and Dad simply pull the dreaded item out of its hellish box and plop it down in the corner.

 

But not Jess and I! Ah, the search for the perfect tree commences, and we disappear into the maze of green, the lights hanging above illuminating (HIDING IMPERFECTIONS?!) the different types and sizes as we pass by.

 

Sigh, nothing like a crisp winter's night. Families all bundled up in the annual (bitch fight) search for the tree upon which to lovingly place prized family treasures.

 

In actuality, Jess had two trees picked out already and I didn't give a crap which one we bought because it was suuuuper cold. Also, we had to shove the tree into Jack's dog crate in the back of my truck which, I must say, ruined the romanticism a bit. (On the plus side, Jack smelled like a pine forest for a week afterwards.)