March Across The Marsh

Feeling like some adventure, it was suggested that we pick a path for bright summer morning walkabout. We thought that walking the beach at Cat Island, a prominent rock jutting above the mouth of the Skagit River would suit us well.

I suggested we check the tide tables. The last time we did this jaunt, the tide was high, the beach was completely covered and the trail through the tidal marsh to the beach was inundated by knee-high saltwater. Check. Our planned morning hike coincided with a max tide at 10:02 AM. We postponed our march across the marsh until around 4 PM.

Once we started across the saltgrass wetlands, we were rewarded by only moist walking through the reeds and weeds. The crowds on this Monday following the 4th of July (Saturday) weekend were larger than expected. Many people and their dogs know this isolated location. Plenty of room to enjoy the sea, sand and salt air breeze.

I especially enjoy the colors of the waters, grass, sky along this estuary of the Skagit. Here is a sample of what our eyes were treated to on our march across the marsh.

Marsh trail leading to Cat Island at the mouth of the Skagit River.
I love the gradation of greens from salt grasses to cattail reeds to conifers on the Delta Rock.

Bold violet wildflowers rise from the wetlands
before Cat Island

Turquoise and emerald waters surround the delta sandbars
below the solid ground of Delta Rock

The beach in front of Cat Island stretches to the horizon.
Whidbey Island rises above Puget Sound in the far distance.

Green grass, aquamarine water and dun sand under blue sky -
A day at Cat Island Beach

Outcropping conglomerate from an ancient beach forms Delta Rock

Wading through shallow water, feeling the sand squoosh between our toes

What a view! Mt. Baker in the background, a wide open beach before us
and a warm breeze behind us.

Driftwood Dude. Like a barnacle lump on a log.

After the beach, we stopped at Snow Goose Produce for a heapin' helpin' of an immodest sized waffle cone ice cream.

Nobody had a better day than us. Nobody.

Father's Day in the Park

 No sooner had we rolled into town, before we off to party a Priest Point park in Olympia, WA with my 95 year old Dad, my sisters, Nephew Brian, his wife Amy plus their two daughters and Amy's parents. Inga and Sean drove 100 miles up from Portland to also join us. It was a grand gathering and a celebration of several June birthdays thrown into the party mix for good measure.

Family Portrait
Front Row: Sue, Mark, Al (Dad) Suneson, X, Sister Sheri
Back Row: X, Nephew Brian, Ellie, Amy, Lena, Inga & Sean

Sue, Dad in conversation with Ray (Amy's father)

Lena enjoys the 'Upside-down Game' with her mother 

Brian visits with Grandpa Al at Father's Day Picnic

Sue & Inga Suneson with sister Sheri

One Small Step for Mark & Sue, One Giant Leap for the Future

One giant leap for the future...

With one small step we hopped into the Toyota 4Runner. We sat buckled into our seats, pressed the automatic switch on the windshield visor to close the garage door. 

3-2-1, Blast off! 

We backed down the driveway from our Texas home and headed northwest. This is the first in a series of iterations that will see us travel from Texas to Washington and back again in the process of moving permanently to The Pilchuck, our home in rural Washington.

We had booked a hotel room for two nights in Denver at the request of a friend of Sue's who wanted us to visit her and tour the town. Her friend stopped communicating with us via text as we approached Denver. Hmm. Mysterious radio silence. What could this mean?

Still no communication after we checked in. 

Eventually, Sue received an early morning cryptic text mentioning a mishap, a tentative rescheduling of our brunch date that morning (after being stood up and missing dinner with her). Later in the morning a brief statement that she was not going to be able to meet us for brunch. Then the story unfolded to include an ER hospital visit, "Sorry it didn't work out," she texts.

759 Claremont St., Denver CO
Our home when we got married
in 1986.

What to think? We had many scenarios, no real answers.

Plan B. We revisit our old Denver neighborhood where we lived when we got married in 1986. 

Sundial Park
Our old neighborhood

We called a friend from our Denver Days in the mid-1980's and had margaritas and great conversation with her. Enjoy the journey, we salvaged our time in Denver. It was a good day after all.

Day 4 out of Texas we landed in Lava Hot Springs, a small hamlet in southeast Idaho that perches on the Port Neuf River and above a thermal hot springs. Our hotel had an outdoor pool fed by thermal, scent-free, waters which we used to rejuvenate our traveling muscles after following the Oregon Trail across all of Wyoming earlier that day.

In the morning I suggested a spontaneous reroute; "What if we detoured to Craters of the Moon National Monument today? We have this fascinating volcanic wasteland on our sightseeing list, so maybe we cross it off the list right now since we're already in Idaho. So close, what d'ya think?"

"I'm not opposed," say Sue - her strange way of saying I like the idea. 

CRATERS OF THE MOON

National Volcanic Monument

Sue crosses a 2 million year old basalt flow
on the boardwalk

A passionate explanation of 
magma chambers and violent volcanism -
from a girl who knows

We spent all morning and late into the afternoon, exploring, discussing and debating calderas while imagining what this landscape looked like when it was glowing with molten rock. We were thrilled to immerse ourselves into this fantastic landscape which some pioneers termed, "black vomit" as they tried to get around it with their horse drawn wagons.

Lava rolled into rope-like structures called pahoehoe - fascinating rocks!
 

"Blue Dragon" sheen and other weathered colors
displayed by these geologically recent volcanics

Sue stands ready to ascend a prominent black cinder cone

View from the top of the cinder cone

Mark scans the distant horizon from the crest of the cinder cone

Strong wind gusts and backing UV rays leave tangle hair and 
crispy skin for Sue to remember her day at high elevation atop the cinder cone

Glorious day to climb a towering pile of once molten ash!

Sue peers deep into the fiery belly of the earth 
from the rim of a spatter cone 

Spatter cone rim

An expansive explanation of volcanism from a 
gal who has a master's degree in Volcanos

Ready to descend into a large lava tube cave
created by a river of flowing molten lava

High sky from underground

Mark rests on a rubble pile inside the lava tube cave

Sue looks for a way out of the subterranean chamber.
We found a way to scrabble up a pile of collapsed roof rock
and out onto the desolate lava field and back to our 4Runner.
 

We stopped at the Visitor's Center to reread about what we had seen and the ages of the eruptions surrounding us. We were headed across Idaho, cut across the NE corner of Oregon and into Eastern Washington, crossing over Snoqualmie Pass and into the Pacific temperate forest. I opened the gate to our house a 2 AM.

What a day.

What an adventure.

Enjoy the Journey!

A New Outlook

 Builder Grade. That's the term for the quality of material used to build our house and thousands of other tract homes around the solid middle class neighborhoods that sprang up in the cotton fields surrounding Dallas, Texas in the 1980's.

After 38 years; actually, well before our house was 38 years old, our builder grade windows received a failing grade. The seals had been compromised, moisture between the panes had occluded the visibility. Our outlook on the world was hazy. The old house had severe cataracts. From the inside looking out, we had long suffered a dystopian mirage of the world beyond.

The worst of the worst. 
Our scabby master bathroom window (always hidden by a lowered shade).
Other windows were leaking air and had severe cataracts.

We needed a clear view and the allied clear mind.

After getting three bids, we went with Home Depot, not the cheapest, but they had good financing options. We got the call; the crew would be out early on January 2. The first working day of 2026. I told 'em, "Back up the truck, this will be a great way to start the new year."

With a pop, rip, snap and the sound of breaking glass, all 19 cruddy windows were removed and replaced with crystal clear, high grade energy efficient pre-measured new glass.

Master Bedroom windows gone.

Taking out the nasty bathroom pane

Upstairs, Downstairs.
Everything must go.

Installation of living room window

 We were told to expect energy savings of around 30%. Definitely something to hope for, but we also got a $2,000 credit from our utility for installing high efficiency insulating windows. This credit will keep us from paying our utility bill for 6-7 months.

We also replaced a leaky door that was letting cold winter air in and A/C air out in the summer due to a warped frame from a foundation shift. All is fixed.

We have a great outlook onto our world. New glass is high class.

You Deserve a Camano Sunset Supper

Camano Beach Sunset, Aug. 25, 2025

 The day had been pleasantly warm. My physical chores had been accomplished around the house. I was not exhausted, but filled with a well-worn feeling of satisfaction with my day's work.

I chose not to eat leftover spaghetti from the fridge. No. Heated up leftovers was not what I wanted. I deserved a shot at optimizing the end of my fine day. I had a simple plan, I would stop and buy a Subway sandwich as I motored through Stanwood on my way out for an evening picnic supper at Camano Beach State Park.

While I was driving to my favorite 'table with a view', my wife called me from Texas, earlier that usual. 

I answered via my SUVs bluetooth, "Are you driving somewhere?" was her question.

"Yes. Yes I am." I think she could hear me smiling.

"Where?"

"I'm going for a simple supper on Camano Beach. You wanna come along? I have reserved a table with a view."

It was nice to share supper conversation as she listened to me crunch on sea salt & vinegar potato chips as I watched the boats return to the ramp as the sky turned to warm, evening hues.

The sun dipped into the tree tops on Whidbey Island across Saratoga Strait. I gave her a play-by-play of the setting sun. 

The marine air chilled into the upper 60s and I was on my way off the island in the late August dusk.

This is a nice place. 

You should come hangout with me. You deserve a Camano Island sunset supper.

Salamander

I needed a bucket. I was working on a trenching project to pipe the back-flushed water from my well water filtration system away from my foundation, where it was currently configured to empty every night. Not good for my foundation to have so much water dumped at its base.

I needed a bucket. There happened to be a bucket under the blue spruce north of the house. I picked up the bucket that had been resting for a least a year on the forest floor and discovered a very cool friend securely hiding beneath the orange plastic container. 

Long-toed Salamander
Ambystoma macrodactylum

Reptiles and amphibians have been a keen interest of mine since maybe first grade. I was delighted to meet its acquaintance. Sharing a habitat with frogs, salamanders and plenty of garter snakes is one of the delights of this place. 

Long-toed Salamander with Nasturtiums 

I marveled at this creature, spoke comforting words to the small amphibian and then placed him among the moist grasses and ferns below the ramp to my front door. It is good luck to have a salamander as your gatekeeper.

Just be cautious of those garter snakes my fine friend.

Lions and Tigers and Bears! Oh, My!

As Dorothy and I well know, when you are this close to Emerald City, you could encounter lions, and tigers and bears. Oh, my!

Maurice returns to my (or is it his?) apple orchard to check on this year's apple crop

I'll be back - Maurice (July 8, 2025)

Well, so far, it is 2 out of 3 for lurking dangers on The Pilchuck.

Maurice, the black bear, has been seem three times in the first half of 2025 [as far as I know, maybe more]. He first stopped by the place on April 30th. He and I exchanged surprised looks a few weeks later as I was heading down the driveway to throw away a spoiled piece of ham into the trash can before the trash was to be picked up later that Wednesday afternoon. Maurice was coming down the road that joins the driveway at the 'Y'. Maurice's chosen path that morning splits off the driveway and leads into the back 40. 

I saw him and I stopped in my tracks. 

He saw me and he stopped in his tracks.

Maurice beat it into the forest brush and I tossed the piece of meat in his direction and returned to the house. Win - win.

Maurice was back on July 8th to shake my tree. The apples are not yet ripe, so I expect him to be back later in the month. He really loves my apples and wants to shake my tree. [Ref. The Joker, Steve Miller Band

***

What I did not expect was to meet a lion on The Pilchuck. I'm not making this up - yes! A lion.

I was looking out my dining room window in the late dusk July 11th and noticed two does back grazing in my field, as they often do in the evening. I was on the phone with Sue and made mention that my deer friends were back this evening. I pointed the phone out the window at her request in hopes she could also see the does. They were about 300' away and not easily seen on the phone's screen.

The two does were walking in the knee-high green grass and yellow flowers with stiff-legged, dainty and cautious steps. Unusual gait, I thought to myself.

I returned to my chair and turned to watch the deer, but they were suddenly gone. Often they will slowly graze and move across the field in a casual nonchalance. I looked harder to see where or why they had disappeared from my view so abruptly.

I saw my answer prowling up the edge of that field along my driveway. I saw a large mountain lion coming toward my house. I stayed on the phone with Sue describing the incredible sight of seeing a cougar hunting out in the open just outside my dining room window. I flipped my cell phone into camera mode while still doing play-by-play on the lion hunt happening before my eyes.

The deer must have sensed the predator in their midst and bounded for safety somewhere out of sight. I tracked the mountain lion moving closer to the house, holding my camera on this amazing animal. I moved from the dining room to the living room window to get a better angle on the stalking wildcat. I watched as it came up to my SUV and slipped behind the far side. Anticipating that the lion would pass along the north side of the house, I walked briskly to the window in the door for my back porch. Still calling the play-by-play, I said to my wife; "He's heading for my back porch, I'm going to make sure that door is locked." I don't have door knobs, I have lever handles on my doors, the kind of shiny silver things that just might attract the attention of any kitty cat to swipe at - and then find that in swiping at it, it opens into my mudroom. 

Expecting the cougar to walk past my house, I was surprised to look out my porch door window to see that it had silently climbed the steps and was standing two feet on the other side of my door. I pointed my video camera, the wildcat unaware of my nearby presence as I was recording it at a little more than whisker-length away from its fangs. I threw the bolt on my door lock as the cat paused, looked into the woods, its whole, long, sleek, golden body taking up the length of my porch before it make a quick move, turned around and walked into my backyard and disappeared into the thimble berry thicket.

Sue was begging for me to send her my pictures of the mountain lion. I checked my photo gallery only to face great and sincere heartbreak. I had not realized that I had not activated my video on my phone. Such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to record a lion on my back porch from two feet away was gone. Dreadful sorry to have messed up this amazing opportunity. I try to live a life of few regrets, but this failure has to count for a huge regret in my life.

Who knows? I may get to see this mountain lion again - but I am not so sure that I want to encounter a prowling lion in the forest on my 50 acres. It was exciting to see it come up to my porch while I was safe inside. Not as eager to meet him on his turf, even if I technically have title to this plot of land.

I googled 'Mountain Lion deaths in US', finding the AI answer that mountain lions attacks and deaths in the US are rare, [about 32 human deaths in the last century] but do happen. 

***

I've enjoyed having numerous guests come to The Pilchuck this summer. Sue flew up to Seattle in mid-June. A few days later we two were joined by our son Grant, his wife Kaileen from New York City and her parents from the Houston area for several days. Later, Inga and Sean came up from Portland for a visit. While the family was here, the major wildlife sightings were absent.

Once all of my guests left, I have seen deer, bear and a mountain lion. The apex predators have come to pay me a visit. Lions and tigers and bears! Oh, my!

Well - two out of three.

I let you know if I catch a tiger by the tail. But right now I've got a mountain lion by the 'tale'.

A Cake to Bake. A Birthday to Break.

Yes, we have all the eggs.

Yes, we have the powdered sugar and vanilla.

And Yes, we have the berries.

Mother and daughter get to mixing and making and baking an angel food birthday cake.

This is perfect.

The oven is preheated. 

The timer is set. 

The batter is poured into the appropriate pan. 

The plea goes out, "We need a bottle with a long, thin neck to hold the angel food cake pan upside down when it comes out of the oven. I head through the pantry door toward the basement to find a suitable long, thin-necked wine bottle for the job. A Chateau Ste. Michelle chardonnay bottle is selected and placed on the counter top, ready to let the culinary confection cool when it comes out of the oven.

The timer goes off. The cake pan is removed and place upside down on the neck of the wine bottle. A job well down. It's all over but the shouting.

Then a soft one-hump whump. And then the shouting. Whump just happened?

Half of the baked cake flopped out of the upside down pan. This wasn't supposed to happen. Yikes. Check your setting. Aw, it was supposed to bake at 375 F - but the oven was set to the default and only baked at 350 F. 

It's edible. A little gooey. But edible. Just dump a boat load of fresh berries on it, light it up with some candles and it will be fine.

***

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Dad is tasked with cooking the requested steak dinner out on the grill on the south deck. Make them steaks red, bloody, juicy and rare are my instructions (except for mom, ruin hers by cooking real thorough). 

Sean cuts up the Champaign mangoes he has brought to the party table

A birthday steak dinner is served

And now... it's time for the birthday cake.

Umm, maybe if we all sing real loud and dad is exceptionally off-key as usual, maybe nobody will care if the fallen angel food cake is a bit lopsided.

Make a wish!

Happy Birthday Inga!

Bushel Basket of Biringer Berries

 A day of transition was scheduled for Thursday, June26; we would wave goodbye to Greg and Glenda in the bright morning after several marvelous days as they departed for their overnight stay booked at the scenic Snoqualmie Falls before they flew back to Texas. Just after Greg and Glenda drove off down my driveway, I folded down the backseats in the 4Runner and loaded up with Sue, Kaileen and Grant for a 100 mile trip south to pay a lunchtime visit to Grandpa Al, my 94 year old father. Grant's idea and request.

Once we got to Tumwater, I ordered pizza for 11; the four of us down from The Pilchuck, we would rendezvous with Inga and Sean up from Portland, and we were expecting my nephew Brian, his wife Amy and their two young girls to join us all for a pizza party at Grandpa Al's senior residence. We enjoyed our pizza party in the Green Room reserved for Grandpa's guests that afternoon, catching up on everyone's goings-ons. 

Brian had to get back to work, Grandpa had a dental appointment and my sister Sheri came to get him at 3, drawing the party to an end. Inga and Sean continued on north to The Pilchuck for a complete Suneson gathering of us elder folks, our kids and their partners. This is what I had long dreamed of having happen at our place on The Pilchuck. I was thrilled to have the whole family under my green gabled roof.     

Berry Pickers
Sean, Inga, Sue, Grant & Kaileen

We actually had a plan in the morning. 

We would venture out under pewter skies and light mist to hunt red berries. Just south of Arlington is Biringer Farms, a U-Pick berry place that offered all the strawberries and raspberries you could want - and more.

Our ride into the berry fields

We grabbed our picking baskets lined with a shallow cardboard box and stepped up to find a seat on the trailer and said to the tractor driver, "Start your engine and bring me to your best, ripest berry patch!" 

With a putter of the diesel engine and shift of the gears, we were on our way to fresh sweetness. Oh what a glorious ride.

The excitement builds
Sue points out the area of sweetest strawberries to Inga

Our tractor driver came to a stop at the edge of the farm, letting us know some of the best ones were right here, hiding underneath those green, mist-moistened leaves, low to the ground. 

We knew what to do.

Sean leans into his task
lending his expert eye to selection of only the finest strawberries

Of course, nobody knew better than Sean. Sean with years of berry and produce expertise from years in the produce department at Fred Meyer's flagship grocery store in Portland, Oregon, would not stoop to pick just any red strawberry, it had to be up to his high standards. Sean picked us some dang good strawberries that morning.

Inga and Sean working the raspberry rows after loading up on strawberries 

Grant displays one of those 'berry eatin' grins' that one gets as one constantly tastes from the vine to be certain that this is a nice and sweet berry maker of a plant. We all did a lot of sampling on our way through the berry patch that cool morning.

Sue with a handful of juicy sweets - one for the basket & two for the tummy

A peck of rootin' tootin' red raspberries

Back at the Biringer Barn, we weighed our harvest, at least the boxes full of berries. It's a good little 'gimme thing' that the farm doesn't weigh us before and after our trip into their fields.

Our total for a quick morning's work:

    Strawberries 6.17 lbs @ $4.75 per lb

    Raspberries  4.77 lbs @ $6.50 per lb.

Now, what would we choose to do with our 11pounds of fresh berries?

Like I said at the top, we had a plan.

Inga was having a birthday celebration tomorrow, and there was not even any discussion of options as to how that birthday celebration would happen. For Inga it is always an angel food cake. And what should one put atop an angel food cake?

    Candles!

    Yes, of course. But what else besides candles?

    Berries!

    Yes, of course. Lots and lots of fresh berries.

And we now have some nice birthday berries to complement the homemade angel food cake ready to be baked.

Thus, it was a fruitful morning among the berry patch at Biringer Farms.