Posts Tagged ‘Olympic Peninsula’

Giving Thanks

November 27, 2017

Last week, my classes were focused on gratitude.  And I have been especially filled with gratitude these past few days.  Thanksgiving and my birthday invite me to be thankful for the life I have, and for the people in my life: family, friends, students.  I have immense gratitude to be living in one of the most beautiful places in the continental USA, one filled with pristine forests, rivers, wildlife (we saw a herd of elk today!!), hiking and ski trails, and all the bounty that nature provides.  I am grateful for my own effort I put into maintaining my relatively good health.  Embracing yoga and making the yoga practice a part of my life, keeping stress levels low, eating a healthy, organic diet, keeping cardio-active, doing weight training, and getting enough sleep are disciplines woven into the fabric of my being.

I also have tremendous gratitude for my parents, who not only gave me life, but also gave me the best in education.  My parents grew up very poor in Sicily.  They both had to stop school in the 8th grade because of poverty and the need to work to help their parents make ends meet.  Instead of continuing on to the 9th grade, my father left school and did hard manual labor in the fields (no tractors or plows used) and my mother became a seamstress.  They worked hard their entire lives.  As far back as I can remember, they always told me that I’d go to college and, no matter how much my university tuition would cost them, they would cover it and give me the educational opportunities they never had.  And they held true to their dream.  They started this dream by sending me to private Catholic school from early on and supported me throughout my university years.

So thank you, mom and dad.  I am eternally grateful.

To celebrate my birthday and Thanksgiving, two great days of gratitude, Rick and I went to La Push on the Olympic Peninsula.  Rick’s Grandma Glenda went to La Push regularly and she always told us how very special it is.  It is remote, a long way from Seattle. The ocean is wild, and the beaches strewn with much enormous driftwood. We have been there four consecutive years in a row and we now understand why Grandma Glenda went there year after year!

Below you will see many photos from the weekend, along with descriptions of the place and of my experience there.

In gratitude, Fran

Below: Lake Crescent, the third deepest lake in the USA.  Our long drive to La Push passes this lake:

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Arrival at La Push: stormy skies, wind, frothy sea, sun setting early

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My new rain boots. Every year, I have seen these boots for sale at the resort reception.  I leave, later wondering with much regret why I didn’t buy them. This year, they were on clearance and I was lucky enough to get the last pair in my size!  They were meant to be mine:

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La Push is on the Quileute tribal lands and these boots are decorated with the tribe’s hummingbird design:

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I was obsessed by both my new boots and this RED driftwood that looks like red-hot burning coals:

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IMG_0857And had to include the photo below..a friendly dog jumped into my photo as I was taking yet another shot of the RED driftwood:

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Most of the time we were there, it was storming.  At some point, the sky opened up…briefly. IMG_0862

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We cooked most of our own meals, but went out for breakfast twice.  There is one place to get a meal and we found it on our first trip to La Push.  Every time we go, we see a charming Quileute elder named Bev.  She always sits in the same seat in the restaurant. This time, as soon as she saw me, she held her arms wide open and gave me the warmest hug! She did the same for Rick. When she found out it was my birthday, she promptly disappeared for a while. I thought she left without saying goodbye, but she came back with a gift for me.  She gave me this precious woven basket, a miniature with a rose motif on one side and a duck on the other side, woven from cedar and local grasses:

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I had my heart set on buying fresh crab while out there, but we found out it is not quite yet the season. We saw crab pots everywhere..the crabbers are ready and waiting for the right time set out their pots.

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Salmon! The quote below comes from a board educating people about the importance of saving the salmon as they dwindle in population:

Generation upon Generation, the salmon have returned to our waters offering of themselves so that the Quileute People might live. There was a time, not long ago, salmon were many. Now they are few.  Generation upon Generation the salmon have helped the Quileute People.  Now the Quileute People must help the salmon.

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You can see the small island offshore, beyond the boats. It is called James Island, but in ancient times, the island was called Aka’lat, Top of the Rock, in the language of the Quileute People.  Aka’lat was the burial ground for chiefs. It was also a fortress in times of defense.  The steep walls protected the Quileute People.  The island is unoccupied, but the Quileute People believe the spirit of their ancestors live there.

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Quileute Tribal Art: Salmon

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Rialto Beach is a nearby gem in the Olympic National Park:

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Dancer’s Pose on slick/wet driftwood:

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The sea brings in a sofa!

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Christmas Growing Up: Indiana 1960s

December 27, 2016

When I was growing up in Indiana in the 1960s, Christmas meant time off school, time to play in the snow and make a snowman. I always received Perfect Attendance Awards in school, mostly because I was healthy, but also because, even if I had a tummy ache, my mom ignored my complaints and sent me off to catch the bus. Unfortunately, as soon as Christmas vacation came around, I usually got sick and spent the first day or two in bed with the flu.

Christmas time meant a family drive to Chicago to see the Christmas decorations in the shop windows along the Magnificent Mile, a one-mile stretch of shops on North Michigan Avenue between Oak Street and the Chicago River. I loved my Dad fiercely as he fearlessly drove alongside big trucks and thick traffic to get us safely into the heart of the big city. We splurged on paid parking, but we saved on meals: mom packed her homemade impinialata (olive onion bread) and had prepared plenty of hardboiled eggs. In our family, there was no driving adventure without at least a dozen hardboiled eggs in tow. (Years later, the first time Rick went on a road trip with my family, when offered a second hard boiled egg, he asked me, “What’s with the eggs?”) In the big city, bundled up as I was, my little feet always got painfully cold and my dad had to give me horseback rides up on his shoulders! The Christmas decorations looked especially beautiful from up high.

Christmas meant having the whole family together. It meant dad coming home early from work at the Indiana Toll Road on Christmas Eve. He entered the house, bringing in snowflakes and a gust of freezing wind, holding a gigantic basket filled with jam, cured meats, mustards, nuts, various types of cheese, crackers, fresh pears, dried fruits, and deluxe chocolates. He proudly handed the basket over to us as we unwrapped it and inspected its rich contents. He won a gift basket year after year for being one of Indiana Toll Road’s best and hardest working employees.

We loved Christmas because it meant my dad had a few days off work and we got to spend every waking moment in his lovely company, all of us! We played his favorite opera and Sicilian folk music records on the turntable. He told us stories of the old country, he sang for us, and he smiled his beautiful contagious smile as he and mom made homemade sausage. The sausage meat mix was ground pork, flavored with salt, cracked pepper, oregano, aniseed, and red pepper flakes. I begged for bits of raw seasoned meat before it made its way into the sausage casings via the hand-crank machine. Again and again, mom and dad patiently swatted my little hands away. Those were the happiest of times.

Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve at St. Stephen’s was packed with other large Catholic families. Some families were so big, they took up a whole pew. My family -seven of us always arriving late- took the back row. Why were we late? Because mom always had one more chore to do, one more dish to prepare, one more item to put away, one more daughter to dress, one more door to lock. Dad waited patiently in the car. He sat rubbing his gloved frigid hands together and kept the engine running, the car warming up, the windows frost-free.

No one saw our new outfits at Midnight Mass. We kept our heavy coats on during mass because it was so cold. I felt like an Italian-American Eskimo, but at least I could snuggle deep into my coat and doze on and off, unnoticed, during the long late-night mass. The priest, rather than celebrating the many people attending midnight mass, scolded those who only showed up for the holiday masses. I counted the seconds for mass to end. Mom stood at her full height, which was not very tall at all, proud of her well-dressed, bundled up daughters and her handsome husband, proud of the fact that my family never missed a single Sunday mass throughout the year. We were not the ones being scolded. Dad had a smirk on his face as he remembered Midnight Mass of his boyhood at Santo Rocco back in Grotte, where he, the cute blond prankster, tied all the widows’ black shawls together so when they made to leave, their shawls fell off their shoulders in one big tangle! What a commotion! He dared repeat his prank every year and no one ever figured out who the prankster was!

After mass, we came back home and opened gifts under the artificial silver Christmas tree that we, as a family, had proudly assembled and decorated with tinsel and mom’s ancient Christmas ornaments from Grotte, Sicily. The ornaments were hand-painted, made of delicate glass. How carefully we handled them, knowing they were mom’s treasures. She’d certainly kill us if we broke one.

The other treasure was the nativity set my family had brought over from Sicily. On the days leading up to Christmas and for days after the holiday, I loved to say goodnight to baby Jesus before going to bed. I could stare at the tiny figures for a long time and study the faces of Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the three kings, the sheep and the cows. The figures of the nativity cast a spell over me. Their faces held magic, a mystery that was too profound for me, a mere child, to understand. The nativity set, I knew, represented the rock that held my family in a steadfast knot of faith.

After midnight mass, we were each handed a wrapped gift from under the tree, while an electric light-gadget facing the silver decorated tree went round and round, magically casting colors and turning the silver tree and tinsel into a spectrum of red, blue, green, gold, and orange.

When I was little, my big sisters told me that Santa was a hoax and that the gifts from Santa actually came from mom and dad. I cried because what they told me was dreadful. How could they have come up with such a cruel story? I told my mom what I had heard. My mom sternly told me that if I continued to believe in Santa, I’d keep getting gifts from him, but that if I chose to believe that he did not exist, Santa would then stop bringing me gifts. It didn’t take genius-brains to figure out what I was supposed to do. I continued to receive gifts from Santa until I was 12.

I received dolls and toys until I lost interest in them. Most of the dolls came from Aunt Lily. Aunt Lily did not have children, so she splurged when it came to gift giving for her brother’s children. She was my godmother and adored me! She brought gifts for all my sisters, but I thought my gifts from her were always super special. I secretly believed she loved me more than anyone else in the world. When I lost interest in dolls, I started receiving practical gifts: underwear, socks, a winter coat, boots, a sweater, scarf, hat, mittens, flannel pajamas, slippers, and long underwear. We children received clothing items to keep us warm during long Indiana winters.

Mom cooked and baked for days before Christmas. We children were given the difficult jobs, like cutting onions and peeling garlic. Can’t believe I am divulging this embarrassing detail, but she made us girls wear hairnets in the kitchen! Serious eating began for my family on December 24 and continued for the next 24 hours. On Christmas day, Mom put a sea of fold-up tables together in the basement and then came the tablecloths, one tablecloth overlapping another. Out came her finest plates, the best glassware, and polished silverware. The concept of potluck did not exist in my family. If my mom was hosting Christmas, she made the entire meal. My dad’s sisters came over and helped with the finishing touches.

The gathering was no fewer than 20 people. We began with a pasta dish, usually lasagna or spaghetti with meatballs, followed by Italian Sausage with roasted peppers and onions. There was always a potato salad with hard-boiled eggs, a baked ham, salad, homemade bread, olives, and dad’s homemade wine. The meal went on and on. I will never forget those Christmas meals!

We ate with gusto and we all drank wine, including the children. Everyone talked and laughed at the same time. The noise level kept going up. My boy cousins could really tuck the food away into their bellies. Watching them eat pleased my mom to no end! The adults and the children all sat at the same table and we all interacted with one another.

At some point, eventually, my mom and the other adult ladies would clear the table, quickly do the dishes, and pull out the baked cookies! Someone started a pot of coffee. Even though I was allowed to drink wine, I was not allowed to drink coffee. A well-kept secret was that Aunt Lily let me drink coffee when I spent the night at her house. I kept my word to Aunt Lily and I never told my mother. I loved how the coffee made my heart pound! I always loved the smell of coffee. It smelled of comfort, warmth, of happiness. It smelled of home. My home.

And out came the desserts! Mom’s Sicilian Fig Cookies were the best. Mom called them cucciddrati. I think she made them from memory because I never found her recipe for them (recipes are below, just before the photos). The best part of cucciddrati is that they are topped with a frosting made of butter, confectioner’s sugar, and milk, and topped with colorful nonpareil sprinkles. Mom also made Anisette Cookies. Nonna Licata used to send a box of baked cookies for Christmas. The treasure in Nonna’s box sent to us from Grotte was the cobaita, a pure-goodness-almond-brittle that my grandmother made with sun-roasted almonds from her orchard. They tasted of Sicily!

Mom also made Sesame Seed Cookies, which are called giugiuleni in Sicilian. These hard cookies were delicious dipped in coffee. When in my mother’s house, I dipped them in milk. At Aunt Lily’s house, I dipped them in coffee!

Don’t forget we lived in Indiana, so a bit of the Midwest came into the dessert scene. Alongside the almond cobaita, the dried fig filled cucciddrati, and the sesame studded giugiuleni, mom presented her freshly made Hoosier delicacies such as potato chip cookies, or jello embedded with either cottage cheese or miniature marshmallows.

And NUTS! Christmas was not Christmas without a huge bag of roasted nuts. By the end of the evening, there were piles of nutshells on the table. My dad would crack nuts for me because I didn’t have the strength to crack a single nut. I couldn’t even crack open my favorite almonds and hazelnuts! As my dad cracked the nuts for me, he’d tell his stories!

After the gargantuan meal, the adults played card games. Sounds of coins, banter, laughter still fills my ears. It feels like yesterday when I watched the adults become as playful as we children were. Sometimes we all formed a circle or a train and did Sicilian folk dancing. We’d move the tables so mom and dad could dance the tarantella. They were so light on their feet. Sometimes we children played “chase” and if you got caught, you nearly got tickled to death. The adults told jokes not meant for children’s ears. We were sent off to play, but we hid nearby and listened. We had a hard time understanding the play on words and the various puns in their slurred fast-clipped wine-dipped Sicilian dialect. The jokes went over our heads.

My mom would tell her animated played-out funny stories for all of us to hear. Every year, her bawdy stories grew more embellished, more dramatic, more comical!  She told her entertaining stories about flatulence happening at the most inopportune moments.  One of her stories, which took place at the Italian-American picnic grounds, was about an unfortunate elderly Sicilian immigrant lady, about to sit on a toilet seat, surprising a bird that was taking a dip in the very toilet she was about to sit on.  Mom also had a pocketful of stories about the many colorful characters back in Grotte.  Her stories filled every corner of our humble home with resounding laughter. Every Christmas, our house became a palace, complete with a banquet hall, a ballroom, and a court jester!

My Christmases as an adult are now quiet, the way I have grown to love them. This year, Rick and I spent three exquisite days at La Push, Washington on the Olympic Peninsula. The weather treated us well. We enjoyed cold crisp frost-and-sun-filled days, took long walks, enjoyed each others’ company, caught up on sleep, read books, watched the sunrises and sunsets, and savored life as it is today. I find I do not yearn for the Christmases of my childhood, but every Christmas I do say a silent prayer of thanks to my parents and my aunties for giving me the gift of Christmas memories I will carry in my heart for as long as I live.

And below are photos from our fabulous Christmas this year at La Push, Washington on the Olympic Peninsula.

Haystacks in the sea

Haystacks in the sea

Looks unreal. Color untouched, clear skies, cold day at La Push

Looks unreal. Color untouched, clear skies, cold day at La Push

My Winter Long Shadow against the frosted grass

My Winter Long Shadow against the frosted grass

Rays of sunlight spill into the forest trail on our hike

Rays of sunlight spill into the forest trail on our hike

Another long shadow selfie: shadow against unblemished sand

Another long shadow selfie: shadow against unblemished sand

Long Shadows Across Grass (color untouched, just as I saw it!)

Long Shadows Across Grass (color untouched, just as I saw it!)

The author of this blog (Fran) and Rick

Selfie: The author of this blog (Fran) and Rick at La Push

Ice Puddle I

Ice Puddle I

Ice Puddle II

Ice Puddle II

Eye: Quileute Nation Totem Detail

Eye: Quileute Nation Totem Detail

Mist and Sea

Mist and Sea

Pink Sand makes for beautiful art

Pink Sand makes for beautiful art

Rich Red Drift Wood Against Sand

Rich Red Drift Wood Against Sand (unbelievable naturally occurring colors!)

Reminds me of my family's "steadfast knot of faith".

Kelp Strand: Reminds me of my family’s “steadfast knot of faith”.

The road leading to La Push

The frosted curvy road leading to La Push

Sunset at La Push

Sunset at La Push

Coasting the Olympic Coast

August 8, 2015

My eldest sister Nora and her eldest grandson, Jesse, visited last week.  It was Jesse’s first trip to Washington state.

Among the many Seattle activities were the visit to the Space Needle, seeing Pike Place Market, having them take my yoga classes:  Continental Place Yoga and the Tuesday outdoor Yoga in the Park class, taking the water taxi from Pier 50 over to West Seattle where we had dinner and enjoyed Alki Beach, and an outdoor dinner  garden party at our Capitol Hill apartment.  Perhaps the biggest Seattle highlight was touring the USS Dewey, a US naval ship on the waterfront in Seattle for Seattle’s Seafair Fleet Week!  We waited in line for over an hour for the tour and it was quite worth the wait, even in the 96 degree heat wave.  Sailors in their Navy Whites were handing out ice cold water and talking to all of us.  On the ship, Jesse got to sit in the Captain’s Chair located at the bridge of the ship!

We then took Nora and Jesse to our house at Ocean Shores and enjoyed “our” beach, Protection Point.  We also bought fishing licenses and fished for trout and lake perch at Duck Lake.  Jesse caught a trout and I kept catching lake perch.  Rick suggested we throw the lake perch back into the lake as soon as he helped me unhook it.  I was shocked when I saw him throw the fairly unharmed fish back in.  Rick explained that lake perch are hard to clean and tasteless.  On my next catch, he helped me unhook (I have the heart to catch them, but not the heart to unhook them) and he promptly gave my plump lake perch to the woman who was fishing next to us on the same pier.  He did this again and again. Later, the recipient of my fish, an excellent fisherwoman with plenty of lake perch in her bucket,  gave my perch back to me, saying that lake perch are actually quite tasty and worth the time it takes to clean.  Jesse offered to clean and cook them.  He breaded and pan fried the perch and they were as delicious as the trout.  Even Rick agreed to that!

We also took Nora and Jesse on a long drive along the Olympic Peninsula.  You will see from the photos below what a gem we have right here at our fingertips on the Olympic Coast!    Enjoy the photos below. There are lots of them!

Jesse at the Space Needle.  He is 18 and has his whole life ahead of him.  I am so excited for him!  I am proud to say he is an extraordinary 18 year old!

Jesse at the Space Needle. He is 18 and has his whole life ahead of him. I am proud to say he is an extraordinary 18 year old!

Waiting in line for the USS Dewey Naval Ship tour, we watched the blue angels doing their sky stunts!  Amazing!

Waiting in line for the USS Dewey Naval Ship tour, we watched the blue angels doing their sky stunts! Amazing!

Nora Tyson

Admiral Nora Tyson, Commander of the US Third Fleet  (read her story below!)

Jesse was the motivating force behind going on the tour of the US naval ship, the USS Dewey.  But when I heard that the Admiral and Commander of the U.S. Third Fleet was a woman, I was thrilled, proud, and excited to tour the ship!  I never imagined I would actually meet Admiral Nora Tyson, the first female commander of a Navy ship fleet.  You can imagine how excited I was to see her!  I recognized her because of all the decorations on her uniform.  She looked so dignified, so accomplished!  Call me strange, but tears sprang to my eyes when I saw her.  I mean, I was not even six feet away from the top dog, the Fleet Commander, the number one person in command!

Sometimes when filled with excitement, I get giddy and say silly unrehearsed words that come to mind.  I stepped out of the long line and went right up to the admiral and blurted out, “Hello Admiral Tyson.  I am so honored to meet you and I am so proud of you!”  As I said this and shook her hand, the ugly fearful judgmental little voice inside of me criticized. “Are you kidding?  Did you say “proud”?  Who are you?  Do you realize who this is? Don’t you realize how silly you sound?” 

Well American Naval Admiral, number one in command, Nora Wingfield Tyson, looked at me and hugged me!  Her hug silenced the little voice inside of me.  Then she said, in her lovely Memphis accent, “Thank you!  And I am honored and proud to be here!”  She asked me for my name.  She told me a little about herself.  I turned around and saw my sister Nora timidly looking on.  I introduced Nora to Nora!  Nora Tyson asked my sister Nora Brown, “Do you spell your name with an “h” or without an “h”?”  Once they figured out they spelled their names the same way and that they were namefellows, a heart-pact was made between the two Noras.

In a recent interview, here is what Tyson said about the role of the Seafair Navy Fleet presence:

Tyson said it is important that the relationship between the people of Seattle and the Navy is understood.

“It’s all about partnership and all about the support we get from the Navy League and from the community,” she said. “The Navy is all over the place here, and we are a part of the community.”

There are several thousand sailors in Seattle right now for Fleet Week, aside from the ones who are based here.

“It is important that the sailors get out and about and get to know the community,” she said. “It’s important that Seattle sees that what we do is important around the world, providing safety and security on the maritime commons. Seattle’s economy is so dependent on that.”

Nora and Nora!

And here they are: Nora and Nora!

USS Dewey, the ship we toured, in the background.

USS Dewey, the ship we toured, in the background.

Just had to include this photo!  Jesse's dad has a horror of chewing gum!  He finds it disgusting, so Jesse had to find the Gum Wall and get this photo.  I think Jesse now shares his father's disgust of gum!  The look on his face is priceless.  I had to urge and coax him closer to the wall, against his will, to get this shot!  While getting closer to the wall, he stepped on some gooey gum.  The wall was literally melting because of Seattle's heat wave.  I never knew that gum melts at 96 degrees F.

Just had to include this photo! Jesse’s dad has a horror of chewing gum! He finds it disgusting, so Jesse had to find the Gum Wall and get this photo for his dad. I think Jesse now shares his father’s disgust of gum! The look on his face is priceless. I had to urge and coax him closer to the wall, against his will, to get this shot! While getting closer to the wall, he stepped on some gooey gum. Ugh! The wall was literally melting because of Seattle’s heat wave. I never knew that gum melts at 96 degrees F.

Adorable!  Twin Bambis at Ocean Shores

Adorable! Twin Bambis at Ocean Shores

Driftwood at Protection Point, Ocean Shores

Driftwood at Protection Point, Ocean Shores

Good time!  Was at least 20 degrees cooler than in Seattle at the coast.

Good time! Was at least 20 degrees cooler than in Seattle.

Jump!

Jump!

Lake Quinault, Olympic National Park

Lake Quinault, Olympic National Park

Kalaloch Beach

Misty Kalaloch Beach, Olympic National Park

Trees and more trees, Hoh River Valley, Olympic National Park

Trees and more trees, Hoh River Valley, Olympic National Park

Among Giant Trees

Among Giant Trees

Feel the energy: my 53 year old hand on live ancient cedar tree

Feel the energy: my 53 year old hand on live ancient cedar tree

Dancer dwarfed by ancient forest, Hoh National Forest

Dancer Pose dwarfed by ancient forest, Hoh National Forest

Sunset at Ruby Beach, Washington

Sunset at Ruby Beach, Washington

Jesse and Sunset at Ruby Beach

Jesse and Sunset at Ruby Beach

Ruby Beach Arch at Sunset

Ruby Beach Arch at Sunset

This Magical Place I call HOME

May 8, 2014
Kalaloch Beach, Olympic Peninsula, Washington

Kalaloch Beach, Olympic Peninsula, Washington

We have a house guest, Joon Joonwong, visiting from Thailand.  It is so refreshing to see this magical place we call HOME through his eyes.  Joon is an accomplished photographer and avid birder, so we have been taking him to various beautiful places in the area.  He was super excited to see a robin the other day, “Look, a THRUSH!”  Suddenly, the common little robin became an orange-red breasted delightful thrush.  “We rarely see this bird in Thailand!”  And Joon was in super-birder mode when he saw a blue jay yesterday.  I have always thought blue jays are gorgeous, but this blue jay went from a crafty bird to a gorgeously ornate-blue feathered and black-tufted winged creature.

I have lived here for 23 years and I never take the beauty of Washington state for granted, but everything these past few days during Joon’s visit, seems to appear more beautiful because I am seeing life here through Joon’s eyes.  Yesterday, we took a long drive along our Olympic Peninsula.  Our drive included a visit to the Sol Duc hot springs where we soaked for two hours in the 106 degree sulphur water. The first photo I took is the featured photo above of Kalaloch beach.  We were blessed with a fine day and beautiful light for taking photos.

Below is the rest of the photographic journey seen through my Leica lens.

I know this will crack you up, but we had to stop in Forks so Joon could get a photo for his Twilight loving friends back home! Here is Joon "hamming" it up.

I know this will crack you up, but we had to stop in Forks so Joon could get a photo for his Twilight loving friends back home! Here is Joon “hamming” it up.  I met Joon 23 years ago when he was just a 13 year old student studying English at Washington Academy of Languages in Pioneer Square.  We have kept in touch over the years and have visited each other. He was an outstanding teenager at 13 years of age and he is continues to be an accomplished and well-traveled  man today!

Waterfalls and Mossy Rocks

Sol Duc: Waterfalls and Mossy Rocks

Olympic National Park: the rain forest

Olympic National Park: the rain forest

Sol Duc waterfalls.  I cannot even imagine how beautiful Joon's photos will be.  He has a great camera and tripod.

Sol Duc waterfalls.

True Beauty: Ruby Beach arrived just at sunset

True Beauty: Ruby Beach …we arrived just before sunset

Seastacks at Ruby Beach

Seastacks at Ruby Beach

Joon captures the sunset at Ruby Beach

Joon captures the sunset at Ruby Beach

Ruby Beach

Ruby Beach

Heading towards the car.  End of a great day!

Going home.  End of a great day!

Cooking: Joon takes over our kitchen and makes our house smell of Thailand! He is a great cook.  Rick said he practically bought out the entire local fish store in preparation for tonight's dinner

Cooking: Joon takes over our kitchen and makes our house smell of Thailand! He is a great cook. Rick said Joon practically bought out the entire local fish store in preparation for tonight’s dinner


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