I woke to a beautiful surprise – a gentle, soft, summer rain. Yesterday morning, a quiet Sunday morning, I heard a sound I haven’t heard in weeks. I sat up, listened closely (ignoring snores of spouse and cat), and heard rain! Summer rain is rare anymore, a July rain even more so. My response – jump out of bed, run to the livingroom, open the door, stand on the porch and watch rain fall gently on dry soil, dusty plants, and into empty rain barrels. A lovely sound. And of course, I felt the need for a walk.
A lovely Lacecap hydrangea.
Washing away a dusty month.
Raindrops beginning to collect on an Ash.
Miscanthus blades washed clean.
I’m not a hybrid rose fan, but this was too beautiful to pass up.
Raindrops collect on a spider’s web nestled in Juniper.
Ornamental Oregano, Kent Beauty, lives up to its name when covered with raindrops.
Not sure, but I believe this is Hypericum androsaemum. But whatever it is, it is lovely in the rain.
She’s in her element!
A beautiful morning, quiet and fleeting, made a lovely start to summer day.
A forest hike a few days ago – ferns nestled in moss, youth and elders share mycelial networks, soft fog from the Salish Sea floats through green and drips and drops on warm skin.
Birds narrate a forest almost empty of people but filled with sound – songs of time and space, birth and death – and food, always food.
We leave the forest and crest a hill to a beautiful view – Salish Sea.
Back into the woods as fog descends on the Salish Sea, seeps into the forest, covering trees.
Madrones leaves, salal, moss and ferns cover soil and drink in the mist.
Bent, contorted, aged and strong.
And beautiful to behold.
Time to leave the forest and head back to town for coffee, a treat, and the foggy drive home.
But first, a stop at the shore.
A beautiful break from summer’s work. More breaks ahead, I’m sure, but this day will do until then.
I wish you beautiful hikes and smooth-flowing work.
Our weather has been unusual, so far. Middle-spring into early summer has seen temperatures in the high 80’sF and one day of 91F (32.8C), then down to low 60’s the following days. This up and down cycle continues through today. Tough for people and pets, and especially difficult for our farmers. In addition to unpredictable temperatures, however, is how dry we are. Washington State Department of Ecology declared a state-wide drought in April of this year, and it is evident! In our garden at home, and in my area of Carkeek, the soil is dry inches down. In the not-too-distant-past, our soaking spring rains kept the soil damp through June. It appears, however, that those days are behind us. At home, we water often now in addition to supplementing with water from our rain barrels. Recently forecast rain totals of up to half an inch actually measured just one tenth of an inch. That’s better than nothing, I suppose. But we do need rain. Still, however, we garden. After all, it’s in the blood.
A few photos of our home garden:
Our Callistemon is such a joy, and I have not watered it since the first year I planted it (2008). A beloved gift from Walt Bubelis!
Our Astrantia major requires frequent watering, but it is worth it!
Few plants sweeter than Geum (and yes, I do deadhead).
Frothy blooms of sedum in the dry garden.
A second bloom on our Bear Grass (Xerophyllum tenax)!
Bumble bees in abundance this season!
And happily visiting Campanula.
Another gift from Walt, Leptospermum. Not sure of the species, but I think it is laevigatum. I absolutely love this tree. Common name: Wooly Tea Tree.
An oldy but a goody, Eustoma grandiflorum, Prairie Gentian.
I do love Dianthus. This one is D. superbus – and it is superb!
Seedheads developing on our Baptisia australis. Late in the season, the seedheads rattle when shaken.
And as you see, our skies are unsettled.
Over 700 wildfires have already developed here in the US to date – in Washington as well as California, Utah, Colorado, Montana, Alaska, on the east coast, Texas, and some southeast states. Many fires are human-caused, a few from lightening. But we garden on. Because as I said, it is in the blood. And the heart.
Spring glides into summer on a cool, gentle day. Warm days and nights ahead, threats of wildfires and drought loom, plants and animals attempt to cope with rapid-fire environmental changes, and humans try to ease into the season. But amid unpredictable weather and the resulting changes, there remains enough beauty to fill us with joy.
A few scenes from a lovely spring:
Nice to see the moon on a sunny March day.
A Sunday morning in Kruckeberg.
Catherine Creek visit in March.
And the wild Klickitat River.
April in Kruckeberg – Trilliums!
Betula nigra leafing out at Green Lake.
Wild in Llandover Wood.
Erythronium grandiflorum looked wonderful this spring.
My Bear grass, Xerophyllum tenax, bloomed in May and again in early June.
Early June at Green Lake. The babies are growing up.
Low tide at Carkeek Beach.
This has been a lovely spring, filled with good hikes, two very welcomed and enjoyable vacations, and for me, one enormous and life-affirming change. On the last day of May, I reached one of the most important milestones in my life – 10 years in the making (see post A Good Choice). And the highlight of that change was deleting over 1,700 (!!) emails I had retained since 2011 in a folder titled Family Emails. I had retained all correspondence between myself and a few family members during those years because of the incessant need to defend myself against accusations. And a few years ago something related happened – during an unpleasant exchange with a sister, I received one more long, angry, accusing email in which, among other things, she claimed I had invited her to join me and my son on his high school graduation trip to England. In fact, I had kept her email asking me if she could join us on the trip. Her original email request was in the Family Email folder on our computer. But this time, I just let it go. I didn’t counter, didn’t forward her original email back to her, didn’t respond. And when I finally deleted that folder and watched all those emails fly away – and saw that particular email deleted – the relief I felt was almost overwhelming. I started laughing. And I laughed all day at the absurdity of having felt the need to retain stuff just to defend myself. Over 1,700 emails! Now our computer is faster, my life is lighter, and I am ready for the summer ahead.
Wishing you all the beauty, lightness, and joy summer offers.
Bill and I have found a new (to us) area for some fantastic hikes – Coal Creek, outside of Bellevue, Washington. We read about the area in a recent Sunday newspaper magazine article and it looked interesting enough to try it. What an outstanding experience! We hiked 4 miles through dense forest, down into a deep ravine carved by the Creek, among the remnants of coal mining, and one of the small towns created from that activity. During our three hours of hiking, I took 43 photos which I reluctantly edited down to 39. Here is some of the beauty we saw:
Our starting point.
Massive second-growth trees covered with moss and Polypodiums.
Something beautiful around every curve.
Entrance to one of the air shafts, below.
And into the forest:
As we hiked deep into the forest, we were enclosed in the cathedral-like structure of Acer macrophyllum.
Charming native plants dot the forest floor.
At the bottom of the ravine Adiantum pedatum, Maidenhair Fern, completely covered a cliff. One of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen on any hike.
I tried to get a good shot of what remains of the flume but the area was too shady for a phone photo.
Remains of the turntable below.
We made it down to the bottom of the ravine via the Primrose Trail.
A cool, lovely experience.
As lush as a jungle – reminded me of my Costa Rica hike, though more quiet (no monkeys here).
Creek bed.
From one of the many bridges as the trail headed up, down, then up again. It was a workout!!
Heading up out of the Primrose Trail – a long loop trail – and back into the sun.
We encountered a large piece of petrified wood near the trail.
This tree may someday enclose these “wheels”.
Sambucus racemosa
Coal Creek – a truly beautiful and surprising place to hike. Although the size of this area is listed as only 4.5 miles total, it contains other trails that appear to expand the area considerably, and Bill and I plan to explore it all.
Some gardeners can grow anything. Put a plant in front of them that is 99.9% dead and they can revive it to the point of perfection within two seasons. Some people can shove a stick in the ground and – what do you know! – it’s a shrub by the following spring! I’m not one of those gardeners (except dogwoods – they grow well here). I continue to strive towards such a success rate, but to date, there is one plant that has resisted all my loving, kind-hearted attempts to grow it. No matter how perfectly I meet the plant’s needs, it dies – sometimes within one season! That hurts. And that plant is the hardy fuchsia, Fuchsia magellanica and its hybrids. Hardy fuchsias are, for me, absolutely unkind. Cruel, in fact. And not only does it hurt but it’s expensive in time and money. Tough not to take it personally, you know? I’ve followed the helpful advice given by the Northwest Fuchsia Society, but still they die. I’ve asked friends who successfully grow the plant – dead in no time. I received very good advice from a woman who worked at the same nursery I worked at, and she said “Well, you could try this one but you’ll probably kill it, too.” She was correct. Anyway, to date, I have tried to grow the following: DebRon’s Black Cherry (lasted two years), Dying Embers (quickly lived up to it’s name), the straight species (red/purple flower) lasted 18 months, and the stunningly beautiful but very cold-hearted Queen Esther (she died within a month).
So, because some people never learn (including me), I will try again. I have decided to purchase one last hardy fuchsia this week, toss it in the ground with indifference while feigning boredom, water and tend to it as if I don’t care if it lives or bites the dust, and try not to take it personally when it dies.
And if any gardeners reading this can successfully grow this mean-spirited but beautiful plant with success, I’d sincerely appreciate your advice!
Odd weather, lots of projects, some good hikes, and time out with our son have made for a lovely spring so far. And while all that has been happening, I have managed some gardening, as well. Here are a few of the highlights from home:
Kalmia latifolia against a backdrop of Cotinus coggygria.
In the same bed as Kalmia, this stand of bulbs I planted over 30 years ago. Back then, I didn’t record names of plants I purchased, nor did this have a name tag as I recall. I have never seen it offered since so I don’t know what it is, but I love it! Tall, grass-like foliage with multiple flowers on one stem.
Bletilla striata, Hardy Orchid
Looking down into the garden through Cornus kousa, Kousa Dogwood.
The frothy blooms of Saxifraga x arendsii.
Iris douglasiana
I love this Calycanthus – Sinocalycanthus raulstonii, Hartledge Wine
I keep this golden Cotinus small and shrubby to keep it at eye-level.
The little rhododendron is R. dendrocharis.
This massive fern is Woodwardia unigemmata, Jeweled Chain fern. It’s a beast with fronds 4-6 feet in length.
And this beauty is Athyrium niponicum, Ghost fern
Spring comes on slowly but leaves us quickly. Some plants we wait all year for – just a week or two of a beautiful bloom. But the wait is so very worth it!
I hope your spring is going well and treating you with kindness.
Today, May 31, is an important anniversary for me. Ten years ago on this date, I made the most difficult and painful decision of my life. After a lifetime of trying, failing, trying again, failing again, and being trapped in that cycle throughout my life, I decided to walk away. That decision was the most difficult decision I have made – nothing since has compared to that pain and struggle. But, once I made the decision, it was a gift. After years of thinking that the only way out was suicide and finding that path to be abhorrent (I saw what my brother’s suicide did to my parents and I knew I could not do that to my spouse and son), I did the only thing left to me – walk away.
Over the decade since that decision, I have relived in my mind a few incidents, looked back a few times, thought about what I could have, should have, or might have done, but always come back to the decision to walk away. It was the only solution to escape the incessant cycle of criticism, accusations, defending myself, insults, fights, and exclusion. It was the only choice left to me. And it has been good – not just for me, but for my spouse and my son.
Difficult decisions are often life-changing. But if pain, fear, aloneness, and sense of futility become too much to live with, remember – your life is your responsibility. And this life we have been given is not just a gift, it is our duty to live it to the best of our abilities. Live with love, forgive, put away hard and angry thoughts, and be kind to yourself and others. And remember – forgiving does not necessitate contact with those who have harmed you. Forgiving is, simply put, a gift we give ourselves. If we find we can return to one person but not to others involved, accept it. After all, it is a gift.
Bill and I have found a new (to us) trail to walk, to explore, and to enjoy for this year. Part of the Washington Trails Association, the scenic Snoqualmie Valley Trail follows an old railroad corridor through farm lands, wetlands, agricultural areas, and beautiful natural areas. It begins in the small town of Duvall as it runs south along the Snoqualmie River and the Stillwater Natural Area, through many more small towns and the beautiful Snoqualmie Falls, and eventually connecting with the Palouse to Cascades Trail at Iron Horse State Park. The trail will eventually take you east across the rest of Washington State. Because it is such a long trail, how much we will be able to walk will be this year’s challenge.
We started in Duvall, at the charming, historic Depot.
A more welcoming start to a new trail would be difficult to find.
With perfect hiking weather, we set off to enjoy a beautiful walk.
The trail is lined with native plants, many either in full bloom or just beginning their show.
Rosa nutkana, Nootka Rose, is always a joy to see.
We passed through a marsh/wetlands area filled with Redwing Blackbirds and dragon flies.
Barns, pastures, and fields filled the distant views.
Native plants – shrubs, ferns, flowering perennials and even a few “weeds” line the trail.
The charming Fringecup, Tellima grandiflora.
I love this shrub – Pacific Ninebark, Physocarpus capitatus.
We passed what looked like Poison Hemlock along the way, although I’m not sure if this is Conium maculatum or Western Water Hemlock (Cicuta douglasii). Dried seedheads from last season.
This will be a fun adventure for 2026 and I am looking forward to the challenge. While we won’t be able to walk across the state (maybe in the next life!), we will at least walk to Snoqualmie Pass. We plan to take our time, enjoy the landscapes, and as always, find a good café or bakery to close out each adventure. After all, what’s a good, long walk without a scrumptious treat and coffee as a reward?
Wishing you smooth walks, beautiful scenery, and good coffee for the road.
Apologies for my previous post. My son and I had enjoyed such a fun time away that coming back to the bad news of shootings, corruption and politics, and murder hit hard. So hard, in fact, that I neglected to finish posting about our short and sweet time away. So, here’s the rest of our trip. Better late than never!
We had a beautiful day for travel. Leaving the Ellensburg area, these huge windmills provide clean power to a very large region.
A blurry photo of the terrain between the Ellensburg region and Wenatchee/Leavenworth area (north-central Washington).
The view from the balcony of my Inn room. I slept with the window open each night to hear the Wenatchee River as I drifted off to sleep.
My son and I took a gorgeous walk along the river – huge, beautiful homes on one side and the lovely gifts of the native environment on the other side. Ponderosa pine needles were inches thick on the ground. Lupines were everywhere.
Our last, and very fun, activity of the trip was to visit the Leavenworth Reindeer Farm. This family farm, run by three generations of the Anderson family, opened to the public in 2016. These small, beautiful animals are actually a domesticated version of caribou. Tame, enthusiastic, very curious and friendly, these animals were a joy to interact with. We hand-fed them willow leaves and branches – their favorite food. We watched a new-born reindeer get to her feet and begin walking as her mother dealt with the after-birth. There is a saying about these animals that I will paraphrase – 5 minutes to standing, 5 minutes to walking, 5 minutes to swimming. In their natural environment, a newborn must be able to stand very soon after birth, move with the herd almost immediately after standing, and to swim soon after. The newborn we watched was up and moving on shaky legs almost immediately after being born. It didn’t take her long to develop sturdy legs, even in the comfort and safety of a partially enclosed pen. The Farm states the following: “Leavenworth Reindeer Farm is committed to the conservation and recovery of caribou through our partnership with the Caribou Conservation Alliance.” And in seeing how healthy, happy, and engaged these animals are, I would say that they are very successful.
Molting season, and one of the youngsters.
Once they eat all the willow leaves, they munch on the branches.
And last but by no means least, my son and I saw these little critters most every place we went.
A blurry picture taken from our drive up to Ohme Gardens – this little guy is a Rock Chuck, also known as a yellow-bellied marmot – Marmota flaviventris. In actuality, he is a large and very social ground squirrel. We saw them in town, along the roads popping up as we drove by, as we walked into town – they are everywhere. And they are very vocal, as we discovered while at Ohme Gardens. They have a wide, slightly flat tail and the look of a fussy, nervous, hungry critter waiting impatiently for a handout. I think my son and I were a major disappointment to them as we had nothing to offer.
Waiting impatiently to drive up to the Gardens. This little guy had the right-of-way.
Our time away, though brief and busy, was a lovely and very fun break. Much needed and thoroughly enjoyed – time away is a blessing, even if it is short in duration.
While I Was Gardening 
