Bouncy Biscuit Islands

What a weekend!













Sunday came with sunshine and mild temps. Feeling emboldened by the shift in weather, we ventured a little farther from home, heading north toward Fildalgo and Whidbey Islands for a picnic and hike. "Deception Pass" is one of many spots in the region that retains the name assigned by Captain George Vancouver when he explored the Strait of Juan de Fuca in 1792. Aparently, he was fooled by the swift outward current, thinking he had discovered a major eastward passage. Feeling deceived when he discovered otherwise, he scrawled its name on his map and it's stuck ever since.

Deception Pass is an awfully disgruntled name for such a breathtaking area. None of the history gets at the incredible place we found. A pristine state park runs along the coast and sandbars link mounded islands with the main land. Because this area is in the rain shadow of the Olympics, it was noticeably drier than the soggy, green forests and fields we've gotten used to. Best of all, the sun was steady and determined. We perched on top of each bald island, just to absorb the heat from the sun.













When we got home, we made a cozy dinner. I have to show you a picture of our dinner, because the quirkiest thing happened.













The biscuits atop our pot pies bore a strange, but very striking resemblance to the domed islands that popped unexpectedly out of the Sound near Deception Pass. Bouncy little things just bobbing on the surface!

























How often can you say there was a dominant sculptural form in both your landscape and your dinner? I might have to make a goal of that more often, just for the sheer satisfaction in it.

In the Arb

It's been raining in Washington. A lot. We were lucky to have weekend that was merely damp, which gave us the chance to get outside for a walk today. We explored the UW Arboretum near Lake Union. Our favorite part was the "Winter Garden", which showcases the shrubs and trees that look and smell more interesting than their summer-oriented friends.













As we entered the Winter Garden, we were nearly knocked out by a perfume that smelled of jasmine or magnolia... or some tender sweetheart we assumed wouldn't dare send out blossoms during this cold, dark season. The tender yellow petals of the Witch Hazel flowers dripped with moisture. And curled inward toward the branch, a trick this tree has for keeping its precious flowers warm even on cold days. We also learned that the horticultural name, Hamamelis virginiana, means "together with fruit": the tree's fruit, flowers, and next year's leaf buds all appear simultaneously on the branch.