Tea Time on the Deck

 The late light lingers on a Pacific Northwestern summer's day. 

Ladies in my life love to take their tea. No better place than in the shadows of the surrounding cedars out on the south deck of the Pilchuck Place.

Inga takes her summer's late afternoon tea

Sue brings her mug of tea to join her daughter on the south deck

I am busy in the kitchen marinating one of my dinner specialties, 'Startled Pig', a Thai recipe that I am preparing to grill and serve with artichokes on the deck. This is the life, ladies in my company while we enjoy food and conversation in the lasting twilight.

Inga takes a pensive pose before her Startled Pig is served

Unbearable Camano Island Picnic

 

Having just had Maurice the Black Bear amble through my field during breakfast, helping himself to the apples in my orchard; we turned our focus to our planned picnic lunch. We all know that Yogi Bear loves to steal picnic baskets, and thinking that Maurice Bear is also one of those 'smarter than the average bear' types, and Maurice would love nothing better than to not only take my orchard apples, but also our picnic lunch. Therefore, we made unbearable picnic plans.

We were not willing to bear the risk of a stolen picnic lunch, so we hightailed it away from The Pilchuck estate and its bear-infested apple orchard, west to the always enjoyable Camano Island State Park for an afternoon picnic on the graveled beach shore of Camano Island.

We set our box of comestibles on a weathered picnic table behind the driftwood and logs while enjoying the company and the July sunshine. 

We finished feeding, and then naturally took a familiar stroll along the edge of the surf at the  base of glacially deposited sediments forming a cliff. The great thing about strolling along a familiar beach is that many of the details change every time you set foot where the tide had brought new shells and stones in exchange for other seaborn trinkets carried away. 

The family strolls along Saratoga Passage of Puget Sound

Inga repeats a geology lesson to Sean, one she has heard often from her parents at this local

 No bears joined us on Camano Island for lunch, we had our picnic basket all to ourselves.

Look! Over there. It's a bear!

 

Look over there! It's a bear!

We were all preparing to have a leisurely late morning breakfast on July 21st when Inga exclaimed, "There's a bear out there!" 

A young black bear was loping through the fresh mown field in front of the house and was heading for the apple orchard on the south side of the house. We all ran to the viewing deck to watch a black bear coming to breakfast with us. I have been seeing deer eat the fallen apples, but this guy was unexpected and more prodigious than the deer, he could climb the apple tree and knock down fresh apples. Unlike the deer he didn't have to wait for the wind to blow and for the fruit to fall. A bear gets what a bear wants.

Maurice the Black Bear loping across my cut field

Maurice foraging for apples and climbing the trunk to bob and bop some low-hanging fruit

Everybody had their camera out for the photo safari. 

Now, I have apples and plums in my orchard, no peaches. But watching this young bear climb and shake the apples from my tree, the lyrics from the Steve Miller Band song, The Joker, came to mind: 

Some people call me the space cowboy yeah
Some call me the gangster of love
Some people call me Maurice
'Cause I speak of the pompitous of love...

Your the cutest thing that I ever did see
I really love your peaches, wanna shake your tree
Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time
Oee, baby, I'll sure show you a good time

I christened our breakfastmate right then and there, Maurice. He really loves my peaches [apples], wanna shake my tree...

Maurice had his fill of fruit after about 40 minutes and wandered off into the woods, as bears are want to do. We headed back inside to our breakfast table where we spoke of the pompitous of love -wooweee, (I'll sure show you a good time).

Family Gathers for Summertime on The Pilchuck

 The Western Washington weather is mild, the creek is gurgling through the evergreens and I am delighted to anticipate the gathering of family after months of solitude on The Pilchuck estate. My wife will fly into Seattle and Inga and Sean will drive up from Portland. The house is not quite finished, but it is furnished in a basic manner and livable for the four of us.

I'm delighted to take a break from house construction chores and flip into Summer Host mode. I pick Sue up at the airport and we have a day or two to ourselves before the kids arrive, the kids being daughter Inga and boyfriend Sean. 

Never being constrained by calendar dates, we Sunesons have our own sense of time and our own feeling for what fits the circumstances. It is several weeks past Inga's birthday, and mom knows her daughter is a fool for angel food cake. Let's make sure the girl has an angel food cake for her birthday celebration, even if her birthday was in June and it's now July. We will make this work.

Mom bakes an Angel Food Cake for Inga's birthday - celebrated a few weeks after the fact.  

Sue gets used to the new kitchen that I build for her, asking where I have stored the bowls, ingredients and kitchen implements? I point to cupboards, drawers and pantry shelves. There is so much space that I secretly hope she loves it here on The Pilchuck so much that she decides to never leave and go back to Texas. Yes, I am a dreamer.

Inga and Sean fight the traffic north on I-5, rolling up the freshly mown driveway into the estate. We welcome the kids and offer refreshment after their 200 mile journey. Great to have a family around (still trying to get Grant and Kaileen to visit as well).

The plan over the next few days is to not have much of a plan. The consensus is that it is always commendable to have a trip or picnic at Camano Beach. A bit of hanging around and hanging out seems fitting in the long summer days of these northern latitudes. 

Mother and daughter do think about a little back to nature fun and doing some gardening around the place. They will need some seeds and some tools. They will need to go to Arlington Hardware, which is a destination in itself, with century old creaky hardwood floors and Big Foot swag and all kinds of needful things for ambitious or slightly ambitious folks around these parts.

Sean checks his apps to see the reviews on tool brands; he tells me what is rated highly and I then pick out another machete and some lopping shears. We are in business on the Pilchuck.

Sean ready for action after a trip to Arlington Hardware and acquiring tools

One fine evening, I send a pair of Blackberry Ninjas out into the forest primeval to whack a trail through the thicket and hopefully reach the creek from our property on the back 40. A daunting task. They are gloved, armored and powerful with sharpened steel. Onward and farewell with victory in your black berry battle!

The two warriors return for dinner, but report a tough battle, some egress through the dense lines of thick and thorny canes. But, alas, they had not broken through to the shores of Pilchuck Creek. Live to fight another day I say. Have a seat and lets enjoy this day and our supper together.

Taming The Wild

It is the growing season.

I am whelmed and soon to be overwhelmed. I need reinforcements. Who better to call than Bob. Bob has been a tractor guy all of his life. My single blade machete is no match for the 6-foot tall weeds, verdant and robust grasses and most dastardly of all - the black berry infested ground with brambles of vicious thorns.

Bob arrives from 32 miles away in La Conner with his tractor and brush hog implement to do battle over my 50 acres. His arrival in the second week of July in as welcome of a sight as that of the US Calvary coming over the hill to rescue the settler's wagon train in an old Hollywood Western movie.

The 'calvary' rides to rescue. Bob & tractor to battle my overgrown estate

Bob, his trusty Ford tractor and its weed chewing implements are unloaded. I discuss my priorities with Bob and he fires up the beast and gets to mowing. We start with the easy stuff, the tall, but easily dispatched weeds on the 10 acre parcel in front of the house. This will beat back the encroaching and obscuring growth that threatens to overrun my house.

Trimming begins along the driveway supply line

As all military strategist know, it is of supreme importance to maintain open supply lines. In my case, keeping the driveway clear and free from the tendrils of the black berry vines is my vital supply line that must be maintained.

Efforts are made in subsequent days to cut a route to Pilchuck Creek from my back 40 acres. However, not even 50 HP Ford is able to make a complete break through the thicket of blackberry brambles. Creek access from my own property remains unattainable for me, yet I rejoice in any and all progress against the undergrowth.

The thick foliage surrounding the house is cut down to size. A clean, fresh view is welcomed.

Noticeable improvement; Before and After of the 10 ac field

A swath is cut to the water well in what was once the barnyard

Clearing a path into the Back 40 through dense forest.

Bob perseveres for 3 days of man and machine against nature. Much is accomplished, but not without casualties; sheared bolts had to be improvised and replaced, broken welds, a leaking hydraulic line and the time-consuming effort to disentangle the rusty springs and wires from an old mattress left in the grass by previous trashy renters that gummed up the bush hog's blades. It seems, nothing is ever easy out on The Pilchuck.

The place looks far better after Bob's generous time and onerous efforts. There was some doubt as whether the hitch on his truck would hold long enough to get tractor and trailer back from whence they came. The good news is that the hitch, though warped and damaged, did hold and there was no runaway trailer running off the county road careening across Highway 20 on his return to La Conner.

My heartfelt thanks to my sister-in-law Ann, for letting her husband take care of my place at the neglect of her and the numerous chores back on the home front.

A well-mowed field is a welcome sight. My weeds and cortisol level are reduce proportionate to the reduced size of the once overgrown estate.

Summertime, and the living is easy - after a lot of hard work.

 

Return to the Wild - Video Addendum

 The black berry canes encroach from the beneath the alder grove, creeping across my driveway. They seek to block my access to my house and takeover the place by persistent pressure, making it all a big briar patch.

I survey the battlefield. The calvary will arrive next week, the calvary being brother-in-law Bob and his tractor and his efficiently cutting brush hog implement. 

I walk up my country driveway, a 0.15 mile gravel lane, and video as I approach the "Y", the place where my drive branches; to the left is the house, to the right is the back 40. Mr. Redtail, the circling hawk vociferously cries for his mate. They nest in the fir tree halfway toward the house. 

Return to the Wild

 

Standing 6' tall, I'm over topped by an overgrown malicious black berry cane

Return to the wild.

I left my home on the 50 acres along Pilchuck Creek, with construction work still in progress. I have another home and my first wife back in Texas. It is difficult to handle the home duties of two disparate places that are 2,472 miles apart. I can not be in two places at once, so I split my time.

My Texas time, a pleasant three months and a few days with my beloved down south, spanning from St. Patrick's Day through the Summer Solstice had come to an end. I was a called to return and attend to the completion of the house and all the wild wood that encroaches upon it. 

The vegetation surrounding the Washington house had grown vigorously and verdant in the lengthening days of spring and early summer. The place had grown wild in my absence. I fear that the encroaching scenery will cover and consume all of the hard work to carve out a new home on The Pilchuck. Driving through the gate on this late June afternoon, I was stunned by the intensity of the greenery and somewhat demoralized by the savage and aggressive dominance of the cursed black berry sticker vines.

I imagine I can hear the creeping stickers extending their domain at night, pushing their tentacles ever closer to my house, threatening to swallow me up by morning. I look around in the daylight and consider my odds; it seems I am one against a million stickers. My machete blade will never be enough to staunch the green menace. I call for reinforcements.

I survey the view from my deck, I need a mechanical advantage to battle the berries. I call brother-in-law Bob, 35 miles up the road in La Connor, he has a tractor with a brush hog.

The Pilchuck has grown wild. The view from the driveway

Weeds and grass march boldly to my front door

The field daisies are pretty, but I truly need a clear, neatly trimmed field around my house. The forest and field are aggressive and do not welcome my home built in their midst.

Bob, as always, is helpful and is willing to haul his tractor over and spend his time mowing my acreage. I'm very thankful for his willingness to help out. I will need to rent a trailer for him to move his tractor over to the Pilchuck. Some of the best money ever spent I think to myself. Unfortunately, we were coming up on the July 4th holiday, there are no trailers to be had for hire. The mighty mow will be postponed until the following weekend.

I am overwhelmed by the 'before' look of the place. I am looking with great anticipation to the 'after' look once Bob and his tractor work are finished.