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.
There is an unwritten rule about home building projects on Orcas Island: well-behaved dogs are welcome. One any given day there is at least one dog one site and we’ve grown to love them all.
The winter of 2020-21 was no regular winter. A range of factors all converged to make it like a hibernation that could only end in the spring.
What do you do when the power goes out? You see it as a challenge and a game to be played. We asked: how comfortable can we be without electricity?
This was my 2020.
Our final decisions on smart home lighting and home automation options for our house on Orcas Island.
After 16 months in our tiny guesthouse, we’ve gotten used to it. But as the house project nears completion, the small things are becoming a bit more grating.