Plants

Ferns and wild hollyhocks

Do you think a plant can fall in love with a person? I think I do...its not something I have given much thought to but lately I am starting to wonder.  This is the first time, you see, that I have container gardened in a place that gets snow.  Sure, back in coastal California there were the occasional freezes and a few things would die off or perhaps get their top leaves burnt. But here you really have to shelter plants that are delicate about the cold.  Or not grow delicate plants at all--well, I bet you can guess what category I fall into. Definitely the kind that ooohs and ahhhs over something spectacular in the nursery and brings it home without much thought to this new season called "winter."  Now that the season is upon us I have had to move quite a few plant friends indoors.  And let me tell you--its getting crowded.  I have a Boston fern the size of a small moon that is now residing in my tiny apartment.  This fern goes by the moniker of "Fernando" and he's not only large but he seems to have a crush...on me.  To be fair, he was encouraged.  I mist him every night before bed time, rearrange his fronds, give him a little drink of water, open the blinds for his morning sun and pluck off any unsightly yellowing leaves...

Plants want us to love them too.

Fernando has rewarded me by sending out new frond after new frond - so many fronds that I am now worried about him out growing the apartment before Spring comes again. In addition to all of this new growth I think I can feel a definite emotion coming from this fern.  Sometimes when I walk by him I think I can feel a frond reaching out towards me and when we left for a few days over the Thanksgiving holiday I came back to a decidedly sulky fern.  

I just finished watching a program called  The Botany of Desire that was based on a book by Michael Pollan.  This documentary looks closely at the potato, the tulip, the apple and the marijuana plant as examples of how plants have manipulated animals and humans for their own propagational benefit.  It is a fascinating program and I was in agreement with much of what was said or explained until the statement was made that plants do not possess any form of consciousness.  That is where Michael Pollan and I part ways. 

Plum blossoms in Olympia

Plants see us like this - or maybe like bees too.

I have always felt that there was something going on with plants that we couldn't see or really understand.  When I was a kid I did the old bean plant science experiment.  You know the one -- you take three identical bean sprouts in three identical styrofoam cups and raise them.  The first one you treat the way most people would raise a plant--you give it plenty of sunlight and water and leave it alone.  The second one you do the same as the first but you also lavish love on that plant:  late night talks, affectionate leaf stroking, soothing music - the works.  The third plant you still give plenty of water and light but you hate it.  You mutter insults at it when you water it.  You scowl at it as you walk by.  Then you serenade it with cacophonous music (speed metal or death punk if you've got some).  Crazy as it seems, you get the results you would expect.  The first plant grows normally, the second plant thrives and gets large and robust and the poor third plant usually turns brown and dies.  How can that happen if you don't have some form of consciousness? I don't think it can.  I think in some ways plants can see and hear what's going on around them.  That makes me wonder about Fernando...  should I still walk about the house in my underwear in front of him?

Diet and Excercise

Yummy cave lady food

 Tomorrow I plan on becoming a caveman...cavegirl....er, caveperson.  But only in a culinary sense - I am not planning on moving out of my comfortable apartment into the woods. And the culinary part is really a modern one; I'm not going to bring any big game down by hand (or gun for that matter) nor will I eat any raw meat. What is really happening is my partner and I are attempting the Paleolithic Diet for the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  In short, the "Paleo" diet is about returning to our hunter gather roots where, supposedly, our bodies are still attuned to evolutionarily - none of this new-fangled agriculture for us, apparently. So the idea is to ingest as much meat, eggs, veggies, fruits, nuts and seeds as you can while eschewing refined sugar, grain products, dairy items and processed foods. No chips, no peanuts (for some reason), no cupcakes, no toast, most terribly - no ice cream...you get the picture: no fun. Why would I want to do such a terrible sounding thing you ask?

A carpet of leaves on the West side

Well, unfortunately for me, the famed "Oly 25" (the weight you are supposed to gain when you move to Olympia) combined with the weight gained by quitting smoking  has crept up and up.  My already too much weight has put on weight. So the Paleo diet seems like the ideal jump start for some quick weight loss and hopefully setting the tone for further lifestyle changes (after the indulgences of the holidays, that is).  I think I can do almost anything for one month...but I am including  prayer, chanting, divination, meditation, rune reading etc. in my diet plans as an insurance that my sanity remains intact while my body goes through chocolate withdrawals.

West side neighborhood ravine walk

So like any good diet they suggest an exercise regimen. The suggestions are usually way too complicated for me to deal with:  cardio verses weight training, aerobic, anaerobic, heart rates, eccentric training, metabolic rates, endorphins and something strange called "spinning."  What it all boils down to for me is - walking.  I love to walk. I like a brisk walk in the morning, a nice steady trek in the afternoon and a calm meander through the gloaming. Luckily for me Olympia is one of the ultimate walking towns. There are so many great neighborhoods all with wonderful things to see along the way. I really appreciate the gardens of Olympia and never tire of admiring them as I get my exercise in.  Outside of the neighborhoods one of my favorite places to walk is Priest Point Park. It is also a great place to have a picnic.

Narnia-like woods out behind my apartment building

One of my most frequent walks is the one closest to home.  This is kind of a strange place - it was once a bit of forest and a developer bought it and put in the infrastructure: streets, sewers, streetlights, etc. and then ran out of money.  The land has since been trying to return to forest ever since.  Depending on the season, the empty lots are full of wild flowers, deer, coyote, flocks of crows and other birds.  There is a little man made lake there that has about a zillion frogs, a pair of ducks and these wonderful little birds that skim the surface of the pond scooping up insects for a snack. I think I love it best in the winter time because the lit streetlights shining over fields of untouched snow remind me of walking in Narnia in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.  So I walk and walk and think about this limbo place - a patch of land with a veneer of civilization trying to be wild again...just like me.

Ferris Wheels

I see nothing in space as promising as the view from the Ferris Wheel.  -- E.B. White

The splendor of the Ferris Wheel

One of the many things I have enjoyed about Washington is the frequency of county fairs and fair-type events - particularly events that offer the visual thrill of a Ferris Wheel.  Mind you, I am a total wimp when it comes to carnival rides.  I become terrified and queasy on The Zipper. I get woozy and alarmed on The Tilt-A-Whirl and I go into a fist clenching state of panic on any roller coaster larger than a kiddie-sized affair.  I even, embarrassingly, tend to frequent the children's rides at Disneyland.   I prefer the mysterious stability of The Pirates of The Caribbean and the safe joys of the Peter Pan ride to any of the roller coasters or, God forbid, anything that might turn you upside down. But most sadly for me is that I am afraid of the Ferris Wheel. Sad because I adore how they look and ever since reading Charlotte's Web and The Great Gastsby as a young girl, I find them terribly romantic too.  So on my birthday last year I allowed my sweetie to talk me into a romantic ride on the glittering Wheel at The Capitol Lakefair. As you can see by my weird grimace in the photograph below I was on the verge of having a heart attack as the carriage was being rocked by a now not-so-sweet sweetheart.

Having a heart attach on the Ferris Wheel.

I love the names of Ferris Wheels too: The Cosmo Clock, The London Eye, The Astro Wheel and The Singapore Flyer which stands 541 feet tall making it the largest Wheel in the world. It is even cooler by being the only Wheel that had its direction changed because of advice given by feng shui masters. And of course there is the subcategory of Wheels called "Eccentric Wheels" where the cars are not only affixed to the rim but slide up and down the spokes of wheel between the hub and the rim.  I feel a bit faint just thinking about that.

Another wheel-ish ride...

The history of the Ferris Wheel is a charming one and how could it not be?  The very first incarnation of the amusement wheel  may have happened in 17th century Bulgaria where they were called "Pleasure Wheels." But Pleasure Wheels were too much fun to be contained by any one country and they started popping up around the same century in India, Europe, Persia, Siberia and Romania. Pleasure Wheels didn't make it to America until 1848 when a wooden one was built to - guess what? Attract people to a fair. Things have not changed much or at all. The original Ferris Wheel was a mere 264 feet and started delighting the attendees of the World's Columbian Exposition in June of 1893.  After that it was just an evolution of who has the tallest and most glamorous...it doesn't matter to me - I see one, any size, twinkling against the night sky my feet are inextricably drawn to move closer to its hypnotic rotations.

Crows

Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Crows enjoying a dead tree.

One of the aspects I enjoy about Olympia is its vast crow population. I have always been a fan of the Corvid or Crow Family because of their aesthetic qualities and their savviness towards the world at large. Plus, they are just highly entertaining creatures to observe. We have been walking in what we call "Crow Park" which is really the newly developed southern 10 acres of Yauger Park.  This new area is the Stormwater Expansion that serves as a "Green Infrastructure" that includes a water quality treatment wetland, bio-retention ponds, a 5,000 square foot rain garden and bio-filtration swales. So not only is this place a really wonderful on an environmental level, it is a great place to hang out with crows.  The park has many dead trees that are a social gathering place for a tribe of about 50 plus crows. 

Pond reflections at Yauger Park.

 

Rocks to hop on at Yauger Park.

Sunset over Yauger Park.

My partner and I have taken to "crow feeding" as a Sunday afternoon activity. All week long we save up savory tidbits to entice our feathered friends. Crows are omnivores so they will eat just about anything but they can be picky.  This weekend they turned their beaks up at ham steak but went crazy for a chicken carcass and a bag of potato chips. Often, more excitement happens when some pushy seagulls appear out of nowhere and attempt to steal the crow treats.  Usually the crows are extremely cautious birds. When food is placed on the ground they spend a lot of time discussing it and eyeing it but not picking it up.  Everyone will wait for one brave soul to fly down and snatch a succulent morsel and then everybody else will follow (but only on that same spot). Its like the game of "hot lava" where you can only step in tested places. An untested place is dangerous and therefore to be avoided until someone desperate (or stupid) enough is willing to risk it.

This is not so when food must be defended from seagulls. Caution goes out the window and a precise, fearless and highly organized teamwork ensues. I watched a group of crows work together to collectively sit on the food to hide it from the gulls while another group body checked the gulls to knock them away from the food and yet another group worked to lure them away completely from the site. Unfortunately (for the crows) these tactics often fail. Seagulls are extremely single-minded and tenacious-- we watched the last battle turn into a struggle of strength and focus against cleverness and cooperation. This time our team did not win as the seagulls made off with a large share of the chicken. But I have faith in those sleek, inky birds and am going to lay bets that by next weekend they will have figured out a winning strategy.

Culinary Disappointments

I love so many aspects of Olympia: the lushness, the clean air, nature everywhere, charming neighborhoods to walk through, an interesting college, distinct seasons...but there is something I have consistently missed about California - the food.  I hate to make this statement but the food in Olympia is mediocre at best. When I arrived here my hopes were high. My partner and I love funky little diners and this seemed like a place that would have one on every corner. Unfortunately, this is not the case.  The few that we have found have not been good enough to spend money there twice. Sometimes, even, one is tempted to demand money back. Not too long ago, at a downtown diner that shall remain nameless, I was served soup that tasted like a tire fire and L was treated to a tasteless tower of water-infused glop that was hailed as the "house special." We still have nightmares...

South Bay BBQ

 Then there are the places that have food that you might want to eat but are ridiculously pricey.  South Bay BBQ is a good example. They have a nice atmosphere: cool old pictures on the walls, outside seating, plenty of room inside, super nice waitress...all lovely. They have zingy barbecue sauce, nice cornbread, decent ribs and brisket. Not wonderful, decent. The compliments stop there. The rest of it is a downhill slide into never going back again. The portions were tiny (especially the "special"), the potato salad weirdly sour, the peach cobbler was made with canned peaches and the worst part of it was having to pay over  fifteen dollars per person for lunch.

My peach cake.

One of the benefits to a land with sub par food is that it forces you to cook new things - or at least things that you didn't think you needed to cook. Burritos and chicken enchiladas ( good Mexican food is rare here and I pine for 2am Mission-style burritos) and sushi. Sushi is something that we haven't mastered yet but our forays into Japanese cuisine in the area are compelling motivators. I have also been inspired to bake more.  This summer I used succulent local peaches and fresh lavender grown on our patio to make Martha Stewart's Peach and Cornmeal Upside Down Cake.  It is now an official favorite dessert. 

                                                                                                                     There are a few exceptions to the cavalcade of culinary disappointments on the Olympic Peninsula. One of the places where I actually enjoy the food is Little Da Nang in downtown Olympia.  They have delicious Pho with a complex broth that rivals the Pho houses of San Francisco. We always order the well done beef and the chicken pho (ask for extra garlic on the side and add it to both soups. They also dish up yummy egg rolls and a refreshing glass of young coconut juice. The inside isn't much to look at but the service is friendly and it is a welcome site after a brisk and chilly walk around Capitol Lake.

Delicious mole sauce from our kitchen.

 So the search goes on...and on. We aren't giving up just yet. The perfect restaurant maybe lurking down some side street (at least in my imagination). In the meantime I plan on trying my hand at making the perfect tempura, savory Vietnamese Imperial Rolls, Moo Shu Pork, the creamiest Kheer (Indian milk pudding), carbonara sauce...are you getting hungry yet?

Halloween

A ferocious ocelot, circa 1973.

Traditionally, Halloween has been my favorite holiday - forget Christmas and definitely forget Easter if you are doing a childhood thrills comparison. Halloween had it all in my young mind. It had the creativity of coming up with the best costume idea ever (I never had nor wanted a store bought one). Then there was the task of talking my mother into some much despised sewing and/or creative gluing. After it was completed there came the ultimate joy of disguising yourself to run, transformed, through the darkening neighborhood; the crunch of leaves at my sneakers and the tang of fireplace smoke in the air. The amazing fragrance of carved pumpkin and the delicious smell of it's seeds roasting in the oven. Then, the best part - at least from the perspective of someone with a chocolate covered heart : The Grand Finale...free candy! And wondrously, the free candy came from threatening people to trick them (pumpkin stomping and TP-ing were popular in our neighborhood) if they didn't hand over their treats with a smile. Ah, publicly sanctioned juvenile delinquency. This is the children's holiday of holidays.

The soundtrack to my Halloweens - I sitll have the record.

In spite of having an open door to creativity, usually my Halloween costumes were decidedly feline in nature. I tended to fancy the big cats, ocelots mainly. But I also got a little out there with a robot cat and "the cat from outer space" complete with antennae. Once in a while I broke out of the mold and was a hobo. Then back into the mold with "Hobo Cat." My mother dressed up as a witch every year - her make-up becoming more and more gruesome as the years passed -would turn our front porch into some sort of horror house tableau where she would hunch over a big cast iron pot filled with dry ice and cow bones. (Can you guess who else's favorite holiday was Halloween?) She'd offer brown paper lunch sacks filled with icky things for the more adventurous trick or treaters to feel:  glycerin covered grapes (monster eye balls), oily spaghetti (monster guts)...you get the picture. The kids that could stand putting their hand in each sack got a bigger piece of candy. The sound track to all of this fun was Walt Disney's The Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of The Haunted House. This was a special effects LP put out for "older children, teenagers, and adults."  When I listen to it now it seems pretty tame with the exception of the racist bits. That is scary but just in a different way. What the album does have is some spectacular screams - one in particular that I can still do a fair copy of.

Putrinella

Last year I found myself in a dispirited frame of mind regarding Halloween.  The thrills of my youth were gone (45 is a tad old for trick or treating). I was living in a part of the country where I barely knew any body (so no party invitations) and I missed my mother's Halloween enthusiasm. Then, a much needed shot in the arm of the Halloween celebratory spirit came my way at the last minute. During one of our weekly trips to Grocery Outlet, we discovered her:  Putrinella - one of the most disturbing Halloween decorations ever. A true Halloween mascot. She is a nightmare kitty with an evil red, gluey mouth and slimy matted hair that off-gassed plastic fumes for weeks. My partner and I were immediately struck by a vision of thousands of these things piled up on conveyor belts in a factory in China. Did the workers wonder about our culture's strange needs as the terrible cats were constructed on their assembly line? Did the workers have respiratory problems from breathing the horrible fumes? Did they have bad dreams? Those are questions too disturbing for Halloween, perhaps.

The family (and a couple of neighbors) circa 1976.

So, Putrinella-inspired, we decorated our postage stamp-sized front porch. We carved up three lovely pumpkins (seed roasting ensued shortly thereafter), put on the beloved haunted house record, placed candy in a large bowl, threw up a few fake spider webs and lit some votive candles to show off Putrinella's macabre glory....and no one came. Not one child. The worst part of it was that we don't live way out in the country - we live in an apartment complex filled with children. Occasionally we would see a group of children go by, laughing - taunting, it felt like as they spurned our Halloween offerings. We asked ourselves: is Putrinella too scary? Did her fumes drive the children away? Is Halloween something that you need to give up and grow out of? Maybe...but I sometimes I really wish I was 10 years old again.

Vintage Trailers

An ideal trailer for my needs and aesthetics.

 One of my goals while living in the lush land of the Pacific Northwest is to acquire a vintage travel trailer. I would actually like to get my hands on two of them, but I digress- the reason for that statement will be made clear further down the post. I promise that this will not be another post about Roslyn but attending the 1st Annual Vintage Trailer Rally of Roslyn really fueled my desire to own one of these sweet, sweet contraptions. I have had a love of trailers since I saw The Long, Long Trailer as a child. It seems to have made an indelible mark upon my psyche that causes me to gawk at them in people's yards or swerve towards them on the highway. Both occupations are dangerous while driving, insists my long-suffering mate. I agree with him but sometimes there is a force working that's beyond my control.

It helps to have the car to go with it.

Much like Lucy and Desi's characters in the movie, we both have the desire to strike out across the country pulling our fashionable home behind us. It goes with out saying that I would like to avoid the comic disasters that befell the movie couple at all costs. I will not be trying to cook dinner in a frilly apron while the trailer is being pulled at top speed down Route 66 (highly illegal, anyways) nor will I allow my rock collection to stampede back and forth across the pristine linoleum of my fabulous trailer.

The history of travel trailers is as interesting and as varied as the trailers themselves. Houses on wheels came about with the culture and domestic needs of European Gypsies (or Romani people). I have always greatly admired the beauty of Gypsy carts and hope one day to own one or at least take a little vacation in one.

A canned ham!

The birth of the modern "leisure" trailer was in 1880 when the 18 foot long "Wanderer" was built by the Bristol Carriage Company.  America did not get it's first manufactured trailer until the early 1920's and the folks that enjoyed them were dubbed "tin can tourists." Continuing with the tin theme, vintage trailer buffs today affectionately refer to their trailers as "canned hams."  Here is a good photo archive  by Life Magazine that is dedicated to The Golden Age of Caravanning.

The beautiful birch wood interior of the Spartanette.

   So now we come to the fantasy acquisition of trailer number two: a 1952  Royal Spartanette. At an overall length of 35 feet, this is no caravanning trailer. This is a "living in for some time trailer."  This is 7,000 pounds of trailer that you carefully haul to some lovely location and leave it there for a long, long time. I keep having a vision of this trailer on some property with a big deck built all around it. This baby is really big enough to live in for a whole summer with its full- sized bathroom with a tub and a regular-sized refrigerator! I would love to spend months at a time surrounded in the warm gleam of curved and polished birch wood.

The interior glory of the Spartanette.

The Spartan Aircraft Company started manufacturing these wonderful trailers in 1946. The Imperial Spartan was almost 40 feet long and because all of their trailers were made out of lightweight airplane aluminum it weighed a mere 7830 pounds! That is actually too much trailer for even me...plus the Royal Spartanette has exquisite curvy lines.

So I dream on, occasionally haunting Craigslist for the perfect trailer, and wait for the day that I look in my rear view mirror and see our own "canned ham" bobbing cheerily along behind us.

Old Cemeteries

I love them, I do. I have been wandering through them, playing in them, making out in them, imagining in them and just generally having a good time in them for many decades. I feel lucky that they have never made me uncomfortable or frightened. Strangely, I have no desire to be buried in one...planted under a cherry tree or perhaps burned up and my remains tossed off the eternally windy cliffs at Big Sur is the way for me.

Top of the Old Town Cemetery in Roslyn, WA.

In my previous post I promised to spend more time on the old cemeteries in Roslyn, WA. This is because Roslyn has 26 separate but adjacent cemeteries and all of them have something to offer even to the casual visitor. Most of them tumble down forested hills outside of town. The cemeteries are organized according to ethnicity and Lodge Orders. Half the fun is reading the names and descriptions of each cemetery. Some of my favorites are:  The Independent Order of Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias Lodge, Wanapum Tribe 28, Improved Order of Redmen, and the exotic sounding Cacciatori d’Africa which was really an Italian club.

Old boots on a grave site -- miner's boots, perhaps?

One of the most poignant cemeteries is the one that consists of the dead killed in the explosion of Mine No. 4. With 45 dead and over 200 fires caused by the explosion, this is considered the worst mining accident in Washington's history. While perusing some of the photo achives of Roslyn I found this picture taken of 16 of the widows of that explosion. The blast left 29 women widowed and 91 children fatherless. Investigations led to a ruling that the miners died from an explosion of gas caused by deficient ventilation. More information can be found in several books that can be found at the Roslyn Museum Store (in person and online). 

A montage of Masonic Ladies.

Another interesting thing about the cemeteries, particularly the Masonic one, is the old ceramic photographs found on some of the graves. I find these pictures slightly creepy but they do stir up the imagination. I find it fascinating to look into the eyes of these women and try to discern if they were happy or fulfilled in their lives. 

One of the elements I love about the cemeteries, especially the Old Town Cemetery, is some of the decorative metal work and mossy wood work around the graves themselves. I have developed an eye for attractive, moss-covered artifacts since I moved to this rain drenched state and was delighted to find the mossy wood present in the cemeteries. 

Mossy posts

I was surprised and pleased to see that many graves had flowers or memento recently placed upon them. Even graves that had been lying there for at least 100 years often had some flowers (sometimes even real ones) or a photograph or toy. I think if I lived there I would adopt a grave or two to have a special bond with --I often did that as a child and placed flowers on "my graves". Grave adoption and cemetery maintenance seems to be a big thing in Roslyn. I found out there is an active Cemetery Commission  that seems to be doing a pretty good job.  Of course, there is some vandalism- nothing is sacrosanct in this world - but most likely its just out and out theft. 

A romantic resting place

 

I was taken by this grave site.  The metal work seemed rather romantic to me. A husband and wife lying side by side for eternity. I stood there and searched for clues of a happy or loveless marriage. There was nothing much to go on. Just a couple of scant dates. A plain "husband of" and "wife of" coupled with the hopeful "rest in peace" was all there was to be made out on the worn down marble. But as I stood there I was given a distinct mental picture of me and my sweetheart lying down hand and hand.  It has made me rethink the cherry tree or the fire--maybe being laid to rest in an old cemetery, especially an old cemetery in Roslyn, just may be the way to go after all .

Roslyn

I noticed, shortly after arriving, that Washington has a plethora of towns with personal names. Some of my favorites are: Daisy, Adelaide, Mack, Sam, Doris, Elmer, Flora, Roy...the list goes on and on-- all of them sweetly amusing names for a town. I have not visited all of these hamlets but I plan to make it a priority to do so during my stay in Washington. One of my favorite “name towns” I have visited and want to keep visiting is the wonderful, old mining town of Roslyn, Washington. I will have to say that I was smitten with Roslyn the moment I laid eyes on her. Snuggled high up in the Cascade Mountains, Roslyn is an old fashioned girl at heart. Half the town seems to be on the historical register; I felt like had stepped back in time the moment I came into town.

The old downtown of Roslyn, WA.

There are no fast food joints, no Walmarts or their ilk, no strip malls, no planned community housing developments, no mega mansions, no prefab housing, very little cinder block...it was a breath of fresh air for me. I was enchanted, driving down the main drag of Roslyn, to see unique homes and buildings that all looked like they had tales to tell. A great first stop when you get into town is the Roslyn Museum.

A description of the museum says:

"The museum is a reflection of Roslyn, it's tenacity, love of life and the richly seasoned ethnic mix that once represented more than 20 nationalities, and still does in the genealogy of it's inhabitants and former residents." 

I adore this mini frigidaire clock.

This a good place to get your bearings, talk to the ultra-friendly staff, pick up a map or two and develop a plan to get the most out of your day in Roslyn. The museum is small but it is crammed to the ceilings with all sorts of random Roslyn memorabilia from top hats to mining equipment to year books and old photograph albums. Speaking of old photographs there is a wonderful photo archive of Roslyn (and some other great-looking old Washington towns) put up by Washington Rural Heritage.

The best sign in all of Roslyn.

One of the most fascinating things about Roslyn is they have 28 cemeteries! If you are an affectionado of the towns of the dead then plan on several hours if you want to take the grand tour. I found them so interesting and photoworthy that I am devoting the next blog post to them-- so stay tuned!

One of the best things to do in Roslyn is to just walk around the neighborhoods. Almost every home is worthy of a second look and often a long pause and some speculation about what it must be like to live there. I also enjoyed the plant life interwoven through the town. There were great big old cherry trees in many people's yards. We found this beauty in the front of a vacant house and picked a bowlful. I encourage everyone to spend a day in this tranquil, evocative place that is steeped in history and charm.

The Journey So Far

Welcome to my blog and my introductory post! These photos and writings are an investigation of the experiences of a Californis transplant exploring nature, culture, academics and traveling in Olympia, WA and the greater state of Washington.

One of the first places I went (we call it “The Duck Pond”) was the McLane Creek Nature Trail. This wondrous place is actually an old clear cut that was experimentally replanted in the 1970's. The place consists of a series of beaver ponds with trails that meander through a mossy coniferous forest, deciduous woods, marshes with waving reeds, and swamps. The walk around the pond is an easy mile complete with wooden walkways through a green filtered forest. There is even a shorter trail option that skirts the lake proper good for folks with limited mobility or stamina. The place has two great little piers projecting out into the lilly-strewn pond. A great place to gaze down at the newts and admire the baby ducks in the Spring. The longest pier is one of my favorite places to sit in the early evening. Sit on the bench, lean back, close your eyes and your senses are filled with bird song and the sound of the wind talking to millions of leaves, fronds and needles.

An ridiculously cute duckling.

Bird watchers rejoice! There are a myriad of birds to be watched at this lovely spot: Common Flicker, Ruffed Grouse, Wrens; Downy, Hairy, and Pileated Woodpeckers; Red-breasted Nuthatch, Brown Creeper, Chickadees, Western Tanager, Dark-eyed Junco, Ruby and Golden-crowned Kinglets, Swainson's Thrush, Steller's Jay, Pacific Slope Flycatcher, Vamed Thrush, Red-breasted Sapsucker; Yellow, Orange-crowned, Yellow-rumped, and Wilson's Warblers; Bushtit, and the Spotted Towhee to name a few! I also suspect that a few eagles stop by once and a while.  One of my very favorite birds (the Redwing Blackbird) makes use of the lilly pads on this lovely pond. 

A gorgeous redwing blackbird.

It felt like stepping through the looking glass  the first time I experienced this place. The abundance of lushness, the endless variations of green, the tantalizing textures the moss promised me...it was almost too much for a person who had just moved from a house located three houses from a large freeway. The broken glass, the crumbling sidewalks, the stench of exhaust and oil, the littered streets of West Oakland all faded like a bad dream as I stepped into a world of sweet greenness. Ahhh...an amazing beginning.