Part of what has gripped me about the garden is the combination of permanence and change. The sumac tree may be here in twenty years, but it will have changed constantly in that time. Every day, I can inspect it and notice the little things. I can see it in different colors as the seasons change.
Small and isolated places like Orcas Island need hardware stores and I’m so thankful that Island Hardware not only exists but does so in such a family-like style. More than just about any other place, it is Orcas Island and I hope it never changes.
Small and isolated places like Orcas Island need hardware stores and I’m so thankful that Island Hardware not only exists but does so in such a family-like style. More than just about any other place, it is Orcas Island and I hope it never changes.
I’m a little torn about this new reality. On one hand, I never have to think about where to put bowls. On the other, there is nothing left to optimize. The problem has been solved and I take comfort in that. My brain can move on. The question is: to what?
We feed it, but not too much. We allow it to breathe but in only one direction. We benefit from thousands of years of practice and experiments. Yet, each fire still feels like a challenge. The perfect fire is not something you ever achieve. It is only an aspiration.
On an uncharacteristically sunny fall day, about 40 witches boarded their vessels and paddled out across the cold waters of the Salish Sea.
As one of the traps came to the surface, I heard Sachi say, “Whoa!” in a tone that was part surprise and part anxiety. It looked as though an alien had entered the trap. It was a bright orange sunflower sea star with 19 arms and we weren’t sure what to do.
That evening the rain arrived on time and I heard the now-familiar pitter-patter of it on our skylights and metal roof. I had been anticipating it all summer and wondered how the rain would sound, especially at night when it’s time to sleep. Listening that night, I thought about permanence and entropy. Try as we might to establish wetlands, gardens, and homes to be permanent, the universe eventually has its way with human projects.
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain. A few weeks back, I shared a story called Lee Night that was, in part, about spending an evening watching boats go by our house. I wrote: As boats float by the house, I can’t help but feel like...
I’m sure that my first reaction was a subtle roll of my eyes or at least an imagined one. Two twin-size box springs had sat in our garage for a while and Sachi was formulating a plan. She asked around and no one needed them and she didn't want to just take them to the...
A hemorrhagic virus that is currently killing untold numbers of deer where I live.
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain. Our part of Orcas Island is called Deer Harbor and in the harbor, you’ll find Fawn Island. On the other side of Orcas is Doe Bay and in between, there is Buck Mountain. These names are well...
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain. I clearly remember watching my father in his tunnel-shaped greenhouse on the hill behind our house in Kernersville, NC. On my frequent visits, I’d wander around in the humidity as I inspected his...
The best we can do is hope for summer rain and keep our little corner of Orcas Island cleared and ready so there’s little fuel for a truly big fire to burn.
I recently added a new data point to my weather watching that has transformed how I think about summer days. It’s called the UV Index and I encourage you to track it, too.
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain. As I write this from my home office, I can see Canada’s Gulf Islands, which are like sister islands to the San Juan Islands. This view is one I don’t take for granted because living on the...
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain. On Friday of last week, a dump truck arrived at our house and dropped off two loads of dirt, which is about twenty cubic yards, or about the size of a 70s station wagon. In construction, it’s...
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain. In the evenings this time of year, we often hear a deep growling sound coming from across the water that sounds like a call-and-response conversation. We soon learned that the growls come from...
Starting then, the idea of eventually building a new house on the island started to dominate our thoughts. What would we build? What could we build?
Sometime in the middle of the house project, I learned a lesson about chimneys that has fascinated me ever since. We were talking about the metal tubes, or “flues” that would eventually stick out of our roof and vent our two wood-burning fireplaces. According to the fireplace company, the size of the fireplaces meant the flues needed to be eighteen feet high to work. This explains why.