Glossier

Summer Diaries | Tuesday, June 20

If you use these skin care and beauty items, you will embark upon magical adventures featuring funky flowers, technicolor toadstools and mossy boulders, apparently strewn here and there by some recent glacier activity. 

And yet, at the same time, your aforesaid skin care and beauty items will remain neat and impeccably tidy.

Labels will always face forward (sigh) 

Products will be placed in graduating rows and columns (swoon) 

All will be designed in coordinating shades of pink with pastel accents (shablaam.)

That's the sound me falling over and breaking into a million happy pieces.

Maybe it's a flashback to my college marketing courses where I learned way too much about the way companies induce people to buy, but I tend to be a bit put off by overt branding exercises. 

But by golly, Glossier (glossié/gloss-ee-yay), you do it right. You make me want to buy your stuff, even though I know I won't be getting an actual trip down the rabbit hole. But ya know, in some ways, I do.

Your store is a fantastical wonderland. 

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My 2023 Summer Diaries:

Olympic Sculpture Park

Glossier

Bainbridge Island

Fort Ebey State Park

Evergreen State Fair

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Deception Pass

Big White Balls

My new big white balls. 

The tall cedar stakes, in case you're wondering, prevent my big red dog from napping - and thereby crushing - my luxurious hosta leaves. Don't worry - she has her own private hosta garden that she is allowed to crush with impunity.

Oh look! A flock of big white balls has roosted on my backyard fence, and appears to be settling in for the long haul. 

But never fear. Before you call animal control and report this strange invasion, let me tell you the truth. 

I put them there.

On purpose.

And they are actually old friends of mine.

My big red balls circa 2012.

For many years, these harmless spheres lived in the far corner of my front yard in a shady little space where nothing much else cared to grow. So I fetched these fellows from Home Depot (get all the DIY details here) and invited them to nest here indefinitely.

Well, the times are always a'changing and as the years flashed by, this cozy spot grew smaller and smaller. Thanks in particular to an incredibly enthusiastic azalea bush, my band of big red balls found themselves unceremoniously squeezed out of their space and this June, I began the hunt for a new nest.

The newly transplanted hostas are looking a bit bedraggled but never fear. 

By next June, they will be lush. Gracie, on the other hand, is peak lush at all times.

Around the same time, I was overhauling a corner of the back yard. I'd just removed a path that wandered uselessly along the back fence by filling out my patch of hostas when my eyeballs informed me that the horizontal space along the fence between the top of the freshly expanded hostas and the lower line of the Japanese maple leaves would be an ideal spot to run a bit of eye candy.

And yes, I do consider my big white balls to be eye candy.

At first, I thought about leaving the balls their signature red, but I decided to live on the edge and paint them white. I mean, for twenty bucks worth of spray paint and an afternoon's time, I can flirt with danger. So by mid-August, out came my drop cloth and suddenly my big red balls, who'd been languishing in the wheelbarrow for at least a month, found a new lease on life as big white balls. 

These little babies aren't going anywhere. 

Next, I mulled hanging options. I considered a number of complicated contraptions but in the end, just drilled a hole in the lip of each ball and dropped them onto cup hooks screwed into the cedar fence. 

So easy. 

So effective.

So cute. 

Do you notice that the pattern roughly represents a sine curve? Mhmm. Math teacher.

My first inclination was just to throw the cup hooks up, willy nilly, but my more sensible self shook me silly till I agreed to plan things out a bit more formally. Why, yes, I did create paper templates for the balls and tape them to the fence, arranging them this way and that until I was properly pleased with the effect. 

Gracie quickly adapted to her new friends, and they apparently have a peaceful effect on her. 

Even the stone bunny who lives nearby seems to welcome the new and improved big white balls to the backyard fence. I think we are all going to be very happy together. 

Bainbridge Island

Summer Diaries | Tuesday, June 27

Hey, you know what's even more fun as hopping our local ferry for a day of island adventure?

Okay, well maybe not MORE fun. But definitely just as much fun is to drive down to the Seattle waterfront and hop a different ferry to another beautiful island in the twinkling waters of Puget Sound.

Off we go!

Our destination today is Bainbridge Island. Uh, that name used to describe the entire island which was home to four distinct towns. Then the biggest town, Winslow, annexed the other three so the entire island was called Winslow. But then, in very short order, Winslow changed its name to Bainbridge Island, and the whole island reverted back to being called Bainbridge Island.

However horrifically confusing that little bit of local legend may be, our marching orders are simple. Drive off the ferry, turn left, and there you will find the main shopping and eating district on the island.

Now I'll be the first to admit: Bainbridge is real fancy compared to our dear Whidbey. So rather than our usual picnic fare, we indulge in a proper lunch.

My husband and second-born scout out a fish and chips restaurant while Gracie and I score an outdoor table in the plaza at the center of town. 

I am not mad about this feast. Gracie sits patiently by, lapping water from a communal bowl and people watching, until my daughter indulges her with a generous portion of that pea puree. 

Then it is my husband's turn to sit with Gracie as my daughter and I do a quick turn through a handful of antique shops nearby. I buy a red vintage Dansk Kobenstyle saucepan and a ceramic owl. 

What I did not buy was a miniature Lenox china tea set, resplendent in the most charming strawberries you ever did see, all smaller than a delicate silver spoon. Sadly, the asking price is two hundred smackeroonies, and I just can't quite wrap my head around that. 

Ah, well. That's enough shopping. Let's go to the beach!

For my money, the best bit about visiting an island is that no matter where you are on that island, you're guaranteed to be close to a beach. We find this little pocket of rocky shores and bleached driftwood up near the top of the island, and enjoy easterly views of the city and cool breezes across the water. Gracie, who enjoyed a quick dip in the salty waves, agrees that it is pure heaven.

From Fay Bainbridge Park, it's a hop, skip, and a jump to the Agate Pass Bridge, which slips us off the island and over to the Olympic Peninsula. We drive north for a half hour, and take yet another ferry - the Edmonds/Kingston run - to flit back across the water to the mainland and another half hour home. 

As I close my eyes this night, I remember the force of the massive ferry engines throttling up as our crossings began, vibrating through the deck and up my legs, into my chest. I recall the wind in my face, the seabirds dancing overhead, the chatter of tourists enjoying the thrill of the ride, and the warm summer sun against my face. I tingle all the way to my toes, and I wonder once again if I will always feel such a special thrill onboard. After thirty-seven years of riding the Washington State Ferries, I'm inclined to believe that my fascination is forever. 

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My 2023 Summer Diaries:

Olympic Sculpture Park

Glossier

Bainbridge Island

Fort Ebey State Park

Evergreen State Fair

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Deception Pass

Fort Ebey State Park

Summer Diaries | Monday, August 28

The original plan had been to spend the day winding through the steep peaks of North Cascades National Park. But active fires had shut down all of the viewpoint, trails, and exhibits within the park, and the highway was blocked in places by firefighting crews, so we decided to go with a Plan B.

Which, as it often does for us, meant hopping a ferry for Whidbey Island. 

The crossing was a foggy one but we welcomed the vibes. Anything short of a raging forest fire felt like a win. 

We wandered the streets of Coupeville, a small town halfway up the island, known for its Penn Cove mussels and quirky shopping district, which is a rare activity for us. Gracie waited patiently with my husband on the street as my second born and I drifted in and out of a few antique stores, and then, by golly, we all got down to business.

Our main event for the day: the beautiful cliffs of Fort Ebey State Park.

^ The bunker allows for a sheltered passage between the two gun mounts (one is just out of frame at the bottom right of this shot) and even though the dark underground passage is completely harmless, trust me. It's kinda spooky in there. 

One interesting tidbit about life up here on the Pacific coast is that after Pearl Harbor was attacked, our corner of the USA was considered the front lines of possible further attack by Japanese forces. Tucked here and there along cliffs about our beautiful beaches are armored bunkers and the gun batteries that formed a system of coastal defenses. The weapons themselves have long since been dismantled and destroyed, but the large concrete foundations that housed two six-inch guns still remain. I'm quite thankful that war never came to these peaceful shores.

^ This is Gracie's idea of heaven. If only I would snap off that leash.

With the history portion of our visit complete, we were off to the open fields above the cliff to fill our lungs with fresh air, romp in the tall grass, and bask in the sunshine.

Well, check and check to the first two. The cool air of Puget Sound was indeed bracing and the golden grasses of late summer are just exactly the kind of hunting environment Gracie was born for. I followed her lead down the path along the edge of the cliff, pulling her little daredevil self back from the edge when she got too close, both of us enjoying a fine stretching of our legs.

^ My daughter looking down the hill at Gracie and me.

^ Me looking up the hill at Grace. "What's taking so long, Mom?"

But bask in the sunshine we did not. 

In fact, as we wandered along in our happy reverie, I barely noticed the build-up of dark clouds over the water to the north. I wasn't alarmed to see the rain pouring from the clouds. But when the lightning began to flash, and the thunder to rumble, my attention was rapt.

"Sorry, Gracie. We gotta go."

 

Across the fields, I noticed my husband and daughter moving quickly toward the car; Gracie and I agreed that it was time to high tail it in the same direction.

We arrived at the car none too soon. As we clambered in, lightning flashed directly overhead and thunder almost instantly followed. In a matter of very few minutes, that far off storm had materialized right on top of us, and I'm quite thankful that we were paying close attention. 

^ Another happy ending to a day spent on Whidbey.

Back down the soggy island we drove, and splish-splashed onto the ferry for the last leg of the trip. Mother Nature seemed bound and determined to throw some danger into our path for the day, and I'm quite thankful to say we arrived home safe and sound, and none the worse for wear

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My 2023 Summer Diaries:

Olympic Sculpture Park

Glossier

Bainbridge Island

Fort Ebey State Park

Evergreen State Fair

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Deception Pass

Evergreen State Fair

Summer Diaries | Friday, September 1, 2023

Growing up, I never went to the fair.

My six-year-old self would have adored this. 

Oh, I fantasized about it plenty. My well-versed imagination, stoked with countless storybook visits to idyllic county fairs, filled me with visions of prize-winning pigs, views from the top of Ferris wheels, and sticky sweet cotton candy to lick off my fingers. But never once did I kick through dusty piles of hay in the corner of a cattle shed, ride a magical carousel, or rub the nose of a contented Clydesdale.

So as soon as my daughters began to toddle, I decided to correct this oversight. And our annual visits to the Evergreen State Fair began.

^ Lord help me, how I do love a plain brown bunny. 

^ Or even better, a pile of plain brown bunnies.

For years, we patrolled the animal barns, introducing our girls to the real-life versions of their farmyard storybook heroes. Every neigh, moo, and oink thrilled us all. When we'd completely worn ourselves out in the barns, ice cream cones were in order and the blackberry ice cream at the Purple Cow quickly became our tried and true. After our snack and perhaps a bit of livestock judging - which we all found surprisingly entertaining - we might head to the rides for a zip down the super slide on a burlap bag, or if we were feeling super courageous, a spin on the merry-go-round. As a last hurrah, we'd grab plastic bags of cotton candy, which the girls would eat in the car till they fell asleep in their car seats, completely worn out. 

And I felt so happy that we had gone to the fair.

^ The ladies of the club.

^ I was not planning to take their picture, but who could say no to a pose like this?

^ My favorite horses are the Clydesdales. I love to talk to them and rub their necks. 

Now, as all good things eventually do come to an end, this particular rite of childhood eventually wore thin. And though many years have passed since we made a family outing to the fair, this year felt like the right time to give it a whirl. So off we went, my husband and me, and daughters two and four. 

As the big day rolled up, I realized that this was our first adults-only fair fiesta, and I wondered just how it would go. By no means were we tethered to the old agenda, and as one does when re-enacting old childhood rituals, I took a deep breath, let go of my expectations, and let the day play itself out.

^ This litter of 16 day old pigs - seven girls and one boy - ran at top speed in circles for at least ten minutes straight. Absolutely bonkers. 

^ Then their mom, Lucy, came back from her mental health break in the outside ring, and the kids all lined up to eat. 

Well. Surprise, surprise. The group consensus was that we should do everything just as we did in the good old days. 

The animals held all the same magic; the newborn piglets are still our very most favorite. 

^ Forget the scones, funnel cakes, and elephant ears. For my money, the Purple Cow is Ground Zero for delicious fair food. 

Blackberry ice cream is as ridiculously delicious as ever, and while no one spilled anything, we still had to wash our sticky hands after eating.

We didn't ride the giant slide but only because we couldn't find it. Later we discovered it had been moved to a different part of the fairgrounds. Next time for sure. 

^ Next time, I'll ride the Ferris wheel too. 

And on our way out, we bought a bag of cotton candy and ate it on the way home. 

No one fell asleep in their car seat, but I still felt so happy that we had gone to the fair. 

* * * * *

My 2023 Summer Diaries:

Olympic Sculpture Park

Glossier

Bainbridge Island

Fort Ebey State Park

Evergreen State Fair

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Deception Pass

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Summer Diaries | Sunday, September 3

I'm a lonely lighthouse, not a ship out in the night.

I'm watching the sea.

She's come halfway round the world to see the light

And to stay away from me.

A lovely place to visit - though I wouldn't want to live there - is our hometown lighthouse, open for visits on summer weekends. Fully operational and self-automated, the old girl flashes on and off as we, her guests, clamber up the stairs and gaze out to sea, drawing deep at the mystery and magic of this dreamy and timeless place. 

^ What was once the engine room is now the ground floor gathering place for a steady stream of enthusiastic guests who wait their turn to journey to the top. The interior walls are jammed with ancient photos of the lighthouse's previous glory days, but really, my mind is focused only on going up.

^ The stairs are tight and twisting, but with glorious light spilling down from the open cupola at the top, and a handful of well-placed windows, the trip up fills me with excitement and wonder.

^ From the top, the first thing to command my attention is the ferry. Two ferries, actually. The Suquamish and the Tokitae sail back and forth, back and forth, criss-crossing Possession Sound between Whidbey Island and the mainland. Their endless devotion to duty reminds me of the lighthouse, and I never tire of them.

^ On the one hand, she's not much more than an oversize, super shiny porch light. But then again, she is an icon of a time gone by, a gentle reminder of how humans once looked out for one another. I think of the days when this place was a lonely outpost, rather than a picturesque piece of suburbia, and I wonder how it is that the world changes so quickly.

^ At the foot of the lighthouse lies a well-grounded garden. They are almost exact opposites, aren't they, the place where roots grown deep into the soil, juxtaposed at the foot of a tower designed to look out only over the dark, rolling waters, with only a narrow seawall keeping each in its proper place. 

^ South of the lighthouse sits the original residence, where lighthouse keepers and their families once maintained this lonely outpost. Young families are still called to this spot; on this day, a bride and groom document their wedding on the rocky, windswept beach.

^ There goes another ferry. Back and forth, back and forth.

^ Back on the ground, I take in the luxuriant fullness of the late summer hydrangea. Like our dear lighthouse, she's an elegant lady whose richness has only deepened with time. How fortunate I am to have both of them in my life.

I'm rolling all my golden moments into one

Want to shine like the sun for one more summer day

Shine like a lighthouse for one last summer night

See me flashing on, flashing, fading away.

* * * * *

Lyrics to Lighthouse by James Taylor

* * * * *

My 2023 Summer Diaries:

Olympic Sculpture Park

Glossier

Bainbridge Island

Fort Ebey State Park

Evergreen State Fair

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Deception Pass

Deception Pass

Summer Diaries | Saturday, September 9

Yesterday, in honor of it being the last day of my summer break, I went to Deception Pass. 

To be fair, yesterday was also the last day of my second-born's long, luxurious summer stay in the Pacific Northwest before heading back to Ohio, and the trip was as much her idea as it was mine.

But off we both went, with my husband playing chauffeur, to this particular patch of heaven.

Deception Pass, if you haven't been, is many things.

^ It's a ferry ride across the deep blue waters of Puget Sound, a short skip from our little town on mainland to Whidbey Island.

It's a wink and a smile to the Mukilteo Lighthouse, tiny against the huge blue sky and sea, holding fast to her sandy edge of the continent.

^ It's my dog, Gracie, full of enthusiasm and ready for high adventure, who knows that any day that starts with a face full of wind on the open deck of the ferry is going to be a good one. 

^ It's a bridge. Tucked into rocky cliffs, overlooking turbulent turquoise waters and glistening green in the late summer sun, she's an engineering marvel and a straight stunner.

^ It's a viewpoint, sharing vistas of headlands, bluffs, islands, promontories, and endless water rolling all the way out the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the open Pacific.

^ It's boats and bridges and docks and people, people, people, all enjoying the rugged beauty of the Pacific Northwest and the singular delight of this incomparable corner of the world.

^ And in the end, a trip to Deception Pass is a return back across the sunlit waves to our hometown native-styled ferry landing, feeling fresh and free and ready for whatever the new season may offer. 

* * * * *

My 2023 Summer Diaries:

Olympic Sculpture Park

Glossier

Bainbridge Island

Fort Ebey State Park

Evergreen State Fair

Mukilteo Lighthouse

Deception Pass