Up from the mud it arises "I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it were called a skunk cabbage." — L.M. Montgomery No respect. It just gets no respect. Skunk cabbage is one of the earliest plants to announce that winter is nearly through. Along with osoberry flashing its white flags of flowers, skunk cabbage rises from the mud long before bees have returned

The Na Pali coast of Kaua’i Island is famous for its sheer razor-sharp ridges eroded over millions of years from the old volcano that created the island. Movies such as Jurassic Park, Avatar, Tropic Thunder (which my kids loved), King Kong, Pirates of the Caribbean, and many others have taken advantage of these cliffs as a tropical backdrop to their stories. An 11-mile hike along the Na Pali shoreline is famous as one of the more challenging and certainly more beautiful hikes

We're used to garden-variety frost and ice this time of year. Starry winter nights often lead to slippery winter mornings. Frost is familiar; it occurs on cold, clear nights, forming when water vapor freezes into ice crystals, coating plants and lawns with a sparkly sheen by sunrise. However, frost has nothing on the wondrous tendrils of delicate "hair ice," which requires even more specific conditions. What is hair ice, you ask? It's not just frozen water... This fragile and

“And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?" – Dr. Graham (Burt Lancaster), Field of Dreams Sixty years ago in Seattle, when the tide pulled back on a crisp, calm winter night, my dad would round up my two brothers and me to hunt crabs at the beach below our house near North Beach in Ballard. Sea pen (not my photo) In our hip waders and winter coats, armed with two large buckets, a fishing net, and a bright Coleman lantern hissin

It’s the big dark. Dark heavy clouds blanket our skies, our hills, our spirits; rain turns fields and trails to mud; trees hang brooding above us, dripping, dank and damp, shielding the sky from view. We had a chore to do near Oak Harbor, and it was low tide, so Kath said, “Let’s go to the beach!” The heart of Oak Harbor revolves around its waterfront, from Freund Marsh stretching all the way around the bay to the Oak Harbor Marina. We parked in the middle, near the modern se

December 30, 2025 I break tradition Sometimes my tries Are outside the lines We've been conditioned To not make mistakes But I can't live that way, no I'm just beginning The pen's in my hand Ending unplanned Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken L

The holly and the ivy, When they are both full-grown, Of all the trees that are in the wood, The holly bears the crown. Since medieval times in the Old Country, holly and ivy have reflected a Christian symbolism, expressed in the Christmas carol "The Holly and the Ivy", in which holly represents Jesus and ivy represents his mother Mary. If they only knew the negative implications both represent on our side of the pond.   What’s Wrong with Holly? Yes, the winter berries are re

Rain poured down as I walked Murphy around the block in the predawn dark, a southeast wind tossing the treetops above us and tugging at our coats. Then the sun rose, the clouds parted, and Fidalgo Bay shimmered with whitecaps against the deep blue water. In the afternoon, the game changed. As predicted, the winds strengthened as they veered to the southwest. Fidalgo Bay flattened out, protected by the hills of Fidalgo. Blue skies still stretched above us to the Cascade foothi

Winds rattled our windows; rain pounded the roof. Perfect conditions, I thought to myself. An hour before sunrise, I rose and drove toward Bowman Bay. Limbs, branches, and even a tree trunk littered Rosario Road. Monstrous Doug firs still danced drunkenly above. Entering Bowman Bay’s roadway, I could hear the surf crashing on the beach long before I got there. Clouds were scudding wildly out of the west. Waves rolled and smashed into the logs lining the shoreline, pulling sev

November 30, 2025 As our moon brightens into fullness this week, it becomes the Samish “Moon of the Elders,” the S7elálexw Moon [S--el-AL-uhh], a time to gather indoors with friends and family during these short days and long nights, to sing, tell stories, exchange gifts, and celebrate the close of the year. S7elálexw Moon (Samish Moon of the Elders) One of those elders, another dear friend, passed away unexpectedly this week. He had lived a full life, full of gentleness, ful

The doctor told me when I was a child that I had a heart murmur. I had no idea what that meant, other than that it made a quiet whooshing sound along with the steady beating. Murmurs are like spreading rumors or pleading prayers, done in whispers, except by lots of people at the same time. But not just people; animals spread rumors too, and not one by one but seven by seven, a thousand by a thousand. And not with a whisper, but with the beating of a wing or a fin, a change of

A dear friend passed away a few days ago. He was a force for good wherever he went. He grew up near Oregon’s ocean beaches, and salt water was in his blood. I guess that’s true of us all, literally. Our blood still carries the memory of primordial waters, whispering ancient knowledge that connects us to the depths of the sea and our earliest origins.  “The water in our cells is the same as the water at the bottom of the ocean. I love the kinship that chemistry implies.”   - R

ICU It was a typical kids’ cold: runny nose, sore throat, a little pale, a little lethargic. My three-year-old son and his best friend shared the germs. His friend got better in a couple of days. My son did not. And he continued to lose energy, languishing on the couch all day. And he looked so pale. We took him to our family doctor, who did not like what he saw. He told us to drive the two hours to Children’s Hospital in Seattle the next day. There, another doctor did hours

Do you seek the light? Here we are, entering the Big Dark. The months with the shortest, cloudiest, coldest, and rainiest days. But there is a tree that reminds us of the coming return of the sun. This tree brightens dark days with its glowing bark of bright orange and shimmering evergreen leaves. Right now, its Christmas-red berries stand out against autumn hillsides, feeding wildlife at a time they need it most. And come spring, it will awaken our hillsides with bouquets of

1976 I was a backcountry ranger at Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado in 1975 and 1976. Another ranger and I were at the little...

Cumberland Creek October 1, 2025 Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlN38xsa9_s A river runs through it, travels down the valley like...