Spent a weekend driving around the Northwest a bunch. Up to Whidby with Leo to Oceanus' birthday party where we delivered a pirate cake extraordinaire that was loved by Oce. Which is why I do it - and to see how crazy it can make me. I spend time shopping for just the right sea life candy and chocolate rocks. I also got licorice ropes for the sides of the boat to look like boards. I spray painted Polly pocket Belle gold so that she could reinvent herself as a maiden-head. About 10 gold coins and 9 Jelly Sharks later....a great 5 year-old pirate cake was born.
Then I left Leo with PAul to bring him home and jumped in the car to drive up to the Keystone Ferry. Driving up Whibey I realized that I am about as Northwest as you can get and still be in the contiguous 50 states. I freaking love this land of my home. The tall pines and the golden spring budding maples. The filtered sun streaming through unseen bare patches creating streaks of light. Skinny roads lined with ancient pines - so familiar and still so awe inspiring. I have driven roads like this my whole life - down to Raymond, up to Orcas - I am never bored by their secret beauty.
The keystone Ferry lives up to it's name. IT is a little rinky dink with only room for about 35 cars and an open deck on top and a very small indoor lounge for walkers on. It takes off from an oddly windswept and slightly baron part of Whidbey - on the westernmost side. Gorgeously different from the thick woods of Maxwellton where Steve and Sarah live. Being alone for hours on my own p
rivate adventure armed with the simple but brilliant iphone map - i felt more private than I have in years. Reminded me of being alone for three days in Istanbul. I took tons of photos and with no cute kids around, had to do some embarrassing self-portrait indulgence.
The Keystone ferry lands in Port Townsend which is such a lovely old town that I remember shopping in - always with friends from out of town and for some reason with people who I rarely see. My friend Hillary whose Aunt lives nearby and with Howard and his parents YEARS ago. Both of them. The first time I heard Dave Matthews was in a Tavern in Port Townsend with really high ceilings. I still hear the first few bars of that album every time I think of it. Had to drive through Port Townsend quickly to get gas though and off to Quilcene (which Steve loved telling me is the home of Quillbillies).
As I made my way down the Peninsula toward Hood Canal I was so struck and how beautiful this State is. I have lived here all of my life and I still get out of my car EVERY time I am on a ferry and look at those car-bound commuters with complete disdain. I feel so proud having grown up in one of the last wild places in the states. I am proud not just of its beauty but of that secrete that only Natives know, a tad righteous about my families decision to move here so long ago and my decision to remain here to raise my own family. I'm 40 and I've only explored a tiny pinhead of it.
Brooke's place in Quilcene has two Eagles that visit a nearby tree often. It has 4 Adirondacks in just the right place over the beach down the yard. It is across a Bay from high peaks that only count 16 homes in about 70 acres. It has a mass of oyster shells on the yard from a recent harvest. It is bordered by two 80 year old widows who are part of the local garden club and boast multiple vintage fruit trees perfectly pruned in nearly Bonzai fashion. It has a huge television for watching movies and playing Wii as well as a fully stocked gourmet kitchen with a cook who know what the hell she is doing and loves to entertain - pepperonatta with goat cheese for the sunset in the Adirondacks - gimme a break.
In all I only spent a few hours alone this weekend and most of it was in the car. However I feel renewed and reminded how much I love travelling alone. I love being the big-city girl on an adventure in the wilderness never having been at my destination. Maybe that is what wanderlust is all about - or maybe its just simply the return of the travel-bug that has been hibernating for about 10 years -since I met Joey. Whatever it was, I think Spring had a big part in it. Green trees and sunshine kick rain and grey's ass when it comes to opening your heart and mind. Thanks mother nature and thanks gravitational force for returning me to my right-mind.
Love molly
The keystone Ferry lives up to it's name. IT is a little rinky dink with only room for about 35 cars and an open deck on top and a very small indoor lounge for walkers on. It takes off from an oddly windswept and slightly baron part of Whidbey - on the westernmost side. Gorgeously different from the thick woods of Maxwellton where Steve and Sarah live. Being alone for hours on my own p
rivate adventure armed with the simple but brilliant iphone map - i felt more private than I have in years. Reminded me of being alone for three days in Istanbul. I took tons of photos and with no cute kids around, had to do some embarrassing self-portrait indulgence.The Keystone ferry lands in Port Townsend which is such a lovely old town that I remember shopping in - always with friends from out of town and for some reason with people who I rarely see. My friend Hillary whose Aunt lives nearby and with Howard and his parents YEARS ago. Both of them. The first time I heard Dave Matthews was in a Tavern in Port Townsend with really high ceilings. I still hear the first few bars of that album every time I think of it. Had to drive through Port Townsend quickly to get gas though and off to Quilcene (which Steve loved telling me is the home of Quillbillies).
As I made my way down the Peninsula toward Hood Canal I was so struck and how beautiful this State is. I have lived here all of my life and I still get out of my car EVERY time I am on a ferry and look at those car-bound commuters with complete disdain. I feel so proud having grown up in one of the last wild places in the states. I am proud not just of its beauty but of that secrete that only Natives know, a tad righteous about my families decision to move here so long ago and my decision to remain here to raise my own family. I'm 40 and I've only explored a tiny pinhead of it.
Brooke's place in Quilcene has two Eagles that visit a nearby tree often. It has 4 Adirondacks in just the right place over the beach down the yard. It is across a Bay from high peaks that only count 16 homes in about 70 acres. It has a mass of oyster shells on the yard from a recent harvest. It is bordered by two 80 year old widows who are part of the local garden club and boast multiple vintage fruit trees perfectly pruned in nearly Bonzai fashion. It has a huge television for watching movies and playing Wii as well as a fully stocked gourmet kitchen with a cook who know what the hell she is doing and loves to entertain - pepperonatta with goat cheese for the sunset in the Adirondacks - gimme a break.
In all I only spent a few hours alone this weekend and most of it was in the car. However I feel renewed and reminded how much I love travelling alone. I love being the big-city girl on an adventure in the wilderness never having been at my destination. Maybe that is what wanderlust is all about - or maybe its just simply the return of the travel-bug that has been hibernating for about 10 years -since I met Joey. Whatever it was, I think Spring had a big part in it. Green trees and sunshine kick rain and grey's ass when it comes to opening your heart and mind. Thanks mother nature and thanks gravitational force for returning me to my right-mind.
Love molly
