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This column took me forever to write. I can feel your surprise; after all, it’s pretty short and I’m not exactly Steinbeck. I’ve been terribly… Continue reading
It’s Friday night, just past the dinner hour. Six of us are huddled around a slightly sticky table, our heads almost touching in concentration —… Continue reading
Just the other day, a friend called me “Granny.” I was taken aback. Although the recent birth of my first grandchild makes it technically correct,… Continue reading
At Harbor Healing Center in Kingston they call it going to acu-land. It’s the feeling of floating on a cloud that some clients experience while undergoing acupuncture. Though this ancient Chinese practice is often thought of as a treatment for pain or other disorders, many recipients also find the procedure extremely relaxing, according to Healing Center owner Nancy Knode.
An eagle glides low through old-growth forest, something ragged and bloody clutched in its talons. Two crows are in hot pursuit, screaming and dodging the trunks of ancient Douglas fir. It takes several minutes for the eagle to elude its pursuers. Then the big bird doubles back to land on a massive nest of sticks set at the top of a 100-foot tree. It’s a sight few modern humans will ever see. But at Camp Indianola, it’s just another moment in paradise.
Hunting snipe at summer camp
Ivy is invading the North End.
It’s not that I was such a girly-girl, but if you saw the photos of my Christmases past you’d be excused for thinking so.
Not only is Punxsutawney Phil so last month, he’s so “old coast.”Miss Snippy refuses to acknowledge the prophecies of any rodent who can’t tell Washington… Continue reading
KINGSTON — When the snack food explodes, it’s time to go. Just ask any of the firefighters who entered the inferno that was Kingston’s Olympic… Continue reading
Did you ever have to write one of those “giving thanks” essays when you were a kid? You know the kind I mean, one titled:… Continue reading
It’s time you knew the awful truth. Tippy’s not coming home. Neither are Snowball, Muffin, nor Pumpkin. Every year the sad little fliers go up on telephone poles all along my road: “Missing, cat/small dog, reward, please call.” The plea is invariably accompanied by a photo of a fluffy friend guaranteed to make my species revert to baby talk. Every year, it breaks my heart.
Adrenaline boosts such as this are just one reason why I love to take walks. I may claim it’s for exercise, but, really, I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t feed my soul. That sounds very corny, but sometimes the truth comes on a cob.
Do you, Mr. or Ms. Mature Reader, find yourself staring into the face of a new year craving new challenges? Do you miss the smell of textbooks and the trauma of finals week? Would you welcome the opportunity to meet new people and feel like a fossil?
Know what I hate about weeds? They live and grow and make it look easy.
Welcome to my garden. Open the gate and step in, but mind the brambles and thorns.
I don’t believe in angels. Really, I don’t. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe in much of anything. But there I was in the cups and glasses aisle of Goodwill, and I may have met one — an angel, that is.
They say Mozart composed his first symphony at age 8. Not bad, but ask him for the proper siting of Fritillaria meleagris and he was hopeless.
On Nov. 11, Kingston lost a little piece of itself with the passing of native daughter Lucille Weisenberger. If you grew up in the north end of Kitsap County in the 1940s through the early 1970s, chances are you knew her, though for many of us she was simply Mrs. Weisenberger.