We spent the first 3 days moving into our new place, introducing Carolyn & the boys to their new home and their new, upper-middle class demographic. Matt helped us settle in and the Kwongs came over to see Carolyn and the boys, after a full year.
This column functions (besides holding the electrical) to define the otherwise minimalist dining and living room space, opened further by almost two walls of solid windows and French doors.
Then on to Whidbey Island which connects to the mainland via ferries and a bridge at the northern point of Deception Pass.
Pier at Coupeville - a tourist trap near our rental with great ice cream (no hot dog stand this year), park, Japanese antique store, and a very good toy store. Missed not being able to go in a bar with minors (as in Lausanne).
There was an endless supply of driftwood for fires. I was surprised to discover that a roasted marshmallow is the one food Jack seems to eat slowly, savoring each morsel.
Aunt Suzanne's backyard was a natural play area, searching for raspberries and photo ops.
Introduced Michael and Jack to Mr Potatohead (the pipe has been discontinued) and Gumby. Did you know that the 1950s version was an actual spud?
Michael and Jack yucking it up at a Port Townsend cafe, where we had "not bad" as compared to "real bad" Mexican food in Switzerland. Europe doesn't know what to do with Mexican food - it's an idea with no authentic link in their populations, like small towns in Minnesota used to be.
This is why we come to Whidbey: the boys can PLAY, survive injuries, throw stones, be pirates, etc. Ocean liners (see background), freights, tug & naval boats, and the occasional Trident submarine pass through the inlet, heading for open water and - given the periodic ferry crossings - add an element of seafaring life occurring between us and the Olympic Mountains. Worth the price of admission.
Jack and Leoni - friends from Switzerland - happened to be attending a wedding on Vancouver Island, so came over for a visit, as did Aunt Suzanne. We attended the same church in Vevey.
On the ferry, dancing to a banjo.
Michael and I watched someone pull a 20" Coho salmon out of the water, then kill, filet, and feed the carcass to seagulls. Fish were jumping out of the water. I'll never forget the time I saw the resident eagle dive and catch a salmon in front of me - my one hunting/fishing yarn.We also stumbled upon rather tasty American fare at a local hotel - the Alabaman waitress was stand-up material - and the Red Apple grocer was announcing the soon arrival of rotisserie chickens. Greenbank Farms (thanks, Suzanne!) had the yummiest loganberry (cross between blackberry and raspberry) pie, loganberry port, loganberry wine, etc. We also found out about children's theater going on weekly in Langley.
Taking time to be somewhere - enjoying company, vacationing with others - is not the book out of which my childhood was written. (Planning is, however).
I may learn to fish. And we may be back. Next year.
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