Yesterday I came to Concrete, south of Mt. Baker, for an overnight writing retreat along with my friend, Brenda Miller, of Bellingham Review, http://myweb.facstaff.wwu.edu/millerb/ Her friends are on vacation and were lovely enough to loan us their home for a writing retreat. Yesterday here was sunny here. I don't know if it was sunny in B'ham, but here, upriver in the Skagit valley, the weather was glorious. And this house is situated on a hill overlooking a meadow and then trees and mountains beyond. Bits of snow remain at the tips of the mountains, tiny patches so white against the black rock caps.
They have a garden here; several tiers soil secured with rows of boulders running the length of the hill between the house and the field--where another patch of garden: blueberries, raspberries, asparagus, rosemary, lavender and other plants grow next to a field of grass and clover. Sever fruit trees: peach, apple, and Asian pear, grow to the left, downhill from the house.
I thought that nothing much would grow in a garden so close to the mountains, but my friend says the owners put up tomatoes and jars of fruit and vegetables. I saw the little green apple starts and recalled how well peaches do in this climate--although I've never had success. Amazing--peaches so close to Sauk Mountain and the back side of Mt. Baker.
When I as in my twenties eons ago, my first husband and I would drive from Spokane, through Concrete on our way to Mt. Baker hot springs. We'd camp by the river and eat out side our tent on chilly days and sit in the hot springs with lots of hippies to warm up mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It was fun and also felt risky, so free, so subversive. Now the springs are closed, too much bacteria. But the memories remain.
Yesterday we took a hike through an old growth forest. The camping areas have been closed off so as to protect the forest, and it was obvious how the camp areas were less lush than the woods surround the trails. My mouth fell open, all the Old Man of the Woods moss, some call it Old Man's Beard. I took picture after picture along our hike through Rockport State Park. Trillium covered forest floor--wow, if I'd only seen it when it was blooming.
We returned after our walk to have a delicioius dinner: salmon and salad with artichoke hearts and fresh asparagus from the garden. At six, it was sunny in the field still, so we ate on the porch. It was a little cool, but wonderful to be outside. It's about time we had a warm day. I soaked up the sun, napping on the porch, writing on the porch, just sitting there and staring at the field with its mown paths edging the fenceline. Lovely.
Until last night, when I couldn't sleep; I thought it was the moon being close to full: Wednesday. I got up and came out to the living room. It was so bright, I could have sat here and read without a lamp, the moon shining across the valley like a fiend. Again, I was so taken by the beauty of the mountains, trees, and fields. I love living in Bellingham, but living in a town is noisy: trains, cars, people--getting to the country and hearing the wind in the trees, the Skagit River flowing past, and birds singing (starlings, robins, humming birds, eagles), feeds the soul.
For more about Concrete, see:http:://concrete-wa.com/community.php
Ciao!
They have a garden here; several tiers soil secured with rows of boulders running the length of the hill between the house and the field--where another patch of garden: blueberries, raspberries, asparagus, rosemary, lavender and other plants grow next to a field of grass and clover. Sever fruit trees: peach, apple, and Asian pear, grow to the left, downhill from the house.
I thought that nothing much would grow in a garden so close to the mountains, but my friend says the owners put up tomatoes and jars of fruit and vegetables. I saw the little green apple starts and recalled how well peaches do in this climate--although I've never had success. Amazing--peaches so close to Sauk Mountain and the back side of Mt. Baker.
When I as in my twenties eons ago, my first husband and I would drive from Spokane, through Concrete on our way to Mt. Baker hot springs. We'd camp by the river and eat out side our tent on chilly days and sit in the hot springs with lots of hippies to warm up mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It was fun and also felt risky, so free, so subversive. Now the springs are closed, too much bacteria. But the memories remain.
Yesterday we took a hike through an old growth forest. The camping areas have been closed off so as to protect the forest, and it was obvious how the camp areas were less lush than the woods surround the trails. My mouth fell open, all the Old Man of the Woods moss, some call it Old Man's Beard. I took picture after picture along our hike through Rockport State Park. Trillium covered forest floor--wow, if I'd only seen it when it was blooming.
We returned after our walk to have a delicioius dinner: salmon and salad with artichoke hearts and fresh asparagus from the garden. At six, it was sunny in the field still, so we ate on the porch. It was a little cool, but wonderful to be outside. It's about time we had a warm day. I soaked up the sun, napping on the porch, writing on the porch, just sitting there and staring at the field with its mown paths edging the fenceline. Lovely.
Until last night, when I couldn't sleep; I thought it was the moon being close to full: Wednesday. I got up and came out to the living room. It was so bright, I could have sat here and read without a lamp, the moon shining across the valley like a fiend. Again, I was so taken by the beauty of the mountains, trees, and fields. I love living in Bellingham, but living in a town is noisy: trains, cars, people--getting to the country and hearing the wind in the trees, the Skagit River flowing past, and birds singing (starlings, robins, humming birds, eagles), feeds the soul.
For more about Concrete, see:http:://concrete-wa.com/community.php
Ciao!
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