There are two ways to get on the island. Deception Pass bridge and the Mukilteo Ferry. I always liked that name, Mukilteo. And I'm not sure what's so deceptive about that pass, but I trust it has good reason for it's name. And getting on the island -Whidbey Island, that is- is very important to this here girl. It's where my mom's parents retired and I began spending yearly visits since the age of 6. So for the last 28 years (look, Mom, I did math with no hands!) this has been a place of peace, comfort and endless beach combing. It was on my list of top highlights for our Washington visit, having my children look for shells on my grandparents' neighborhood beach where I collected gallons upon gallons myself over the years.
As we drove the last stretch to their house, Grandma's passing hit me freshly, though it's been over 10 years ago. A peppy Kansas farm girl with more gumption than most men, more creativity than most women and a talent for making the best pies on earth -and playing endless hands of cards with her grandkids. Her sewing room that was always cool on bare feet, the apple trees where she'd collect a fresh crop for her legendary apple pies, her boxes of jewelry she'd let us girls go through and be dazzled by, never tired of their sparkles. All reminders of what an amazing woman I was blessed to have as a grandmother. Lora Lee Swetnam. What a woman.
Shells were scarce that day, so we garnered quite a collection of "special" rocks. 100 times from Wilder, "This is the MOST SPECIAL rock EVER!" 100 rocks plus Waverley's contribution, which was, thankfully, a more discerning assortment.
My mama took the camera and snapped a few of the motley crew.
And no trip to the Island would be complete without a ride on the Mukilteo Ferry. Wilder was always prepared for the horn to blow (which it unfortunately did upon departure right after I assured him he could uncover his ears. He wasn't taking any chances after that.)
1 comment:
Beatiful place
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