It’s easy to forget the large, enormous old-growth beauty that is the Pacific Northwest. Or, in the least, take it for granted. In the grey of late winter, what’s around me becomes the norm. It happens when I’m rushed, when I’m late, when I’m behind.
With a hurried heart I know I need to listen to the ones who call me Mama.
My daughters say it best, We live where fairies live. We make our home next to fairy homes, eagles and whales and salmon. Don’t forget crabs and ferns and driftwood and shrimp and harbor seals…
When I’m sick, it’s easy to see only the dashboard, the front door of the elementary and preschool my daughters bloom within. It’s easy to see the tissue box, the laundry bin and pillow.
When I’m sick, it’s easy to forget the island, the salty sea and the tall, tall trees that are the Pacific Northwest.
Some things are never forgotten, and no matter how congested I may be in a day I always remember:
I am a mama.
I am a poet.
I couldn’t believe the wind and the grey and the rain was g-o-n-e.
With warmer weather, blooming bulbs came on clouds.
The clouds look like so many things I don’t know where to begin, said Betty Rose.
Oh the clouds, said Lucy May.
Look, Mama. Puff, puff cloud, said Olive June.
And the blue. It’s as if I couldn’t remember it. All I could remember was how much I couldn’t take grey skies anymore.
Doe Bay Resort has cabins and campsites and yurts and a hostel. There’s yoga and a spa and and an incredible garden looking for volunteers.
Most of all, there are trails around the property, winding along the sea.
Yurts on the beach. Need I say more?
We moved slowly throughout the afternoon. Two-year-olds walk slowly, methodically independent in steps and stalls. It was all good.
I eavesdropped on sister conversations.
I watched Lucy climb the rocks along the waterfall that empties into Doe Bay.
As the light in the late afternoon changed, the salt air swept up a Popsicle breeze that froze fingers, mostly my own. We chased a bunny [Lucy’s favorite part of the day] and walked over a bridge to a playground.
I sat beside her in the swing that looked like a button on a giant piece of thread and noticed how her smile changes with each tooth, each week.
I sat beside her, the middle one, and could not wrap my cold fingers around the idea that in less than a week she’ll be five. Five. That’s half a decade. That’s incredible.
There was still so much light left, so we walked out to the point where we heard Damien Jurado, climbed a totem like a dog.
That night, we ate at the waterfront Cafe. Words like fresh and local and seasoned and harvest are used in honest personality. And just so you know, the kids’ mac-n-cheese is insane. I can only hope next time, my girls leave too much left so I can lick their plates clean again.
We ended our stay with a visit to a place with a heart all its own. Maybe it was the outdoor showers or the totally-awesome-rad-insanely-perfect view, but the clothing-optional soaking tubs were a great way to start the day.