Category: Whidbey Island Page 1 of 4

This is a quote I love from William Carlos Williams’s poem “The Botticellian Trees.”

And here is another quote I love written by my Tibetan friend, Shawo Choeten, after reading my memoir about traveling solo around the world.

“I hope all is well and your soul is swimming in an ocean of happiness.”

Seldom has anyone pinpointed so well the purpose of my travels, or the joy that still swims in my heart and soul as a result of these experiences. These words kept my spirits up last winter when unexpected illness came to my door, and they speak to me of new possibilities entering when old patterns have to be changed.

I do have sad news to relate about the death of a close friend and colleague many of you may have known from my days as Executive Director of MEH (Music Education for the Handicapped). Alf Gabrielsson, a professor of music psychology at Upssala University in Sweden, a member of our Board of Directors, and an outstanding presenter at several of our symposia, died of pneumonia on May 24th. He was a bright light wherever he went, a caring teacher of all ages, and a magnificent musician who could wow you with jazz on the piano or Bach on the organ. His books and his research into the effect of music on the human psyche and behavior were ground-breaking and their influence will remain immeasurable. Alf was also very interested in not only life in his community, but politics and opinion throughout the world as it affected our lives and the environment. You will not be forgotten, Alf.

The past three months of Whidbey Island sun and cool breezes have buoyed me up, and the summer peaked with new optimism for our country’s future. I start with a sample of our colorful plants and flowers that add zest to the endless year-round blanket of green that is surrounded by tall Douglas fir, hemlock, and cedar. We have dozens of succulents, orchids, fuchsias, and exotic plants nurtured by son, Tom, who I call the “plant whisperer,” as well as a plethora of blossoming trees gracing our walkways and forests. I am thoroughly enjoying the present and am deeply thankful. I particularly love the fortitude of the long-stemmed amaryllis.

One of my favorite activities is a daily walk through the beautifully landscaped Langley Woodmen Cemetery, conveniently located right across from Upper Langley, where I live. Halfway through my walk, I enjoy a sit on the bench built for the husband of a dear friend of mine. See if you can find me in the daisies, before I start pushing them up!

Daisies

The 4th of July was a hoot and unlike any other I’ve experienced on the island.

All over Cascade Avenue were onlookers spellbound by the continuous display of drones instead of the usual fireworks. Stories were told in sequence, flower and Orcas flew through the sky, and bright-colored flags rippled in the wind. See the YouTube videos I made of them HERE and HERE.

A walk on the Langley Beach

Tom has converted my sunporch into an extra bedroom, so we’ve been able to welcome several family members for short visits, and, at the same time, help them escape the broiling sun of the city. Martha was the first to grace the sunporch.

Grandson Thomas Bixler also visited. He lives in Austin, Texas, and was really glad to get away from the heat, and be in the forest.

Ebey’s Landing

The Shakespeare Festival was in full swing. Here we are during intermission at King Lear, not exactly my idea of a happy story, but a very satisfying performance.

In between all the visits, we enjoyed Deception Pass, helping Cary in the garden, and a beer at Double Bluff Brewery where… heads up… I’ll be celebrating my 97th birthday next June!

Robert, my youngest, turned 65, much to his surprise, in September. I was surprised, too. Give me a break, Father Time. I can absorb just so much aging in one calendar year. I was still getting used to Cary having turned 72 in July!

Then, we welcomed Martha back and were totally surprised when she arrived with her son Adam, who took a break to visit me just before launching a new enterprise in New Jersey. How about that for fun?

I’m back to my Nepali sticks

Ebey’s Landing fogged in. Disappointing!

Cary cuddling an enormous zucchini

A lot has been going on in the field of affordable housing. People are stepping up to the plate to help solve a very serious problem here on the island.

We know it’s pervasive throughout the rest of the country, but, like all problems, it works best if you start at home. When it comes to solving problems and making progress, Cary is the best example I know of citizen awareness and subsequent action. She’s done it with the environment, the cemetery, the food bank garden, the school farms, and many other projects since she moved to Whidbey. Check out this latest and one of the greatest!

It’s called Whidbey Home-Raising, and the website is HERE.

They started with the foundation dig out in September, and are now working on the framing.

I apologize for the length of this blog, but you didn’t expect me to sit in the house during the summer and write when the sun was shining and the woods were beckoning…did  you? Ha ha. Remember, we island folk have to soak up our good weather when we get it. Fall is fast approaching and the winter winds are just around the corner knocking at our door. So bundle up, don’t mess with those Halloween witches, and have a spectacular Thanksgiving. And don’t forget to vote!

Ninety-six has finally come and I can shut the door on ninety-five, my worst nightmare! Blessed energy is returning and I’m ready to hit the road, if not running, walking with confidence. Who was it who said, “Slow and steady wins the race?” Well, I’m finished trying to win races…I just want to get to the end of the trail in one piece!

On June 3^rd I awoke to a bright sunny day. I did not expect a big birthday celebration this year, but could not ignore the occasional whisperings among well-wishers, “Don’t say anything…it’s a surprise.” Nor could I help noticing that the Common House here at Upper Langley was bustling and Jerene behaving as if she were preparing the minions for a viewing of the Holy Grail. I knew something was in the wind, so I grabbed my pen and pieced together a thank-you poem in advance. I was right on every count. The entire HOA membership had put together a party extraordinaire. Mully fitted a superb handmade headdress of flowers and herbs onto my head as I stepped into the dining room; stretched in front of me a table fit for a queen was suffused with lighted candles, decorations, and glittering silver; balloons and tinsel, ribbons and colorful tapestries adorned the walls; and a sumptuous meal, prepared by Anne Zontine, was served elegantly by Don Zontine and Lee Compton, dressed as Indian waiters à la New Delhi. After dinner we were treated to a superb rendition of the allegro from Bach’s A minor sonata #2, performed by Whidbey’s own virtuoso violinist, and my neighbor, Gloria Ferry-Brennan. The celebration ended with two scrumptious cakes baked by daughter, Martha, after which was candle blowing and a special circle where people shared words that captured their feelings and wishes for me. I was really moved! What a wonderful way to welcome my new year!

(Click on photos to enlarge)

TO MY WONDERFUL BUDDIES!

Big cheers to Jerene and her friends, hale and hearty,
Who, a-long with the Zontines, have fashioned this party;
They’ve cooked, helped by Martha, and fashioned décor
Superb and artistic, I couldn’t ask for more!

This menu’s a total surprise, even Cary
Denied any knowledge, ‘though I was quite wary,
For who would instruct me to not make my salad
A staple of potlucks that makes the meal valid?

But I am a lover of wild innovation,
And want you to know I am filled with elation
To see how my friends have stepped up to the plate,
And made this particular birthday first rate!

I could not ask for a more loving community to usher me into the coming year!

No matter how bad things seem to get on the world stage or in our own dramatic corner of the globe, when the New Year rolls around we see a chance for improvement. You know the litany: Things can’t get much worse…the only way to go is up. Life is lived in a resisting medium…the only way we coast is downhill. In other words, don’t coast, keep climbing, keep striving. Knock yourself out. You can always do better. But by now you know that life isn’t perfect. There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, yes, but it may turn out to be an oncoming train (for the jokers). So, try giving acceptance a chance. You may learn something…about yourself and about your life. Wake up or you’ll never know what’s just around the corner…

Yes, there’s something I truly love about January first of each year. I’ve given up on writing resolutions which I’m too old to complete, anyway, but I breathe the air of that chilly morn as I walk up and down the roads and woodland trails near my home…alone, except for the intermittent chirping of woodland creatures, and give thanks for all my blessings, putting the complaints and downers back in the box for another day. It’s a new start. That’s how I feel.

As I’ve written before, I’ve had a few downers since my birthday, which have caused me to cancel a much-looked-forward-to trip to the East to visit old friends and relatives in Jersey and New York over the holidays, returning by way of Manitou Springs to visit Martha, Doug, and grand and great grandchildren in the Denver area. Here’s where acceptance comes in. Had a recap of my earlier ear problems so flying was out of the question. But now, Buddha be praised, it looks as if the Colorado trip may be possible. Stay tuned and when Cary returns from China, Nepal, and S. Korea she’ll put up all my photos and stories. In the meantime, she is going on her fantastic trip to Asia from Nov. 26 to January 18…the first time in years that I’m not accompanying her (acceptance, again)…and hopes to write about her adventures, putting them up on MY blog…hot off the griddle…for all of you to enjoy. How great is that? Cary is a master blogger and will have you on the edge of your seat!

Leaving…

…arriving in Kathmandu, and being greeted by Tashi, Shechen Guest House manager.

I end this holiday greeting with the announcement that I have started putting up my most recent book on my website/blog, delayed for several years due to my most skillful non-virtue, procrastination. It’s a work-in-progress and tells the story of the Peterson family escapades over the years, more in essay form than as a linear memoir. Title: I Love You To Death, But… It will be under the Family Memoir tab on my blog, and next to the Essays tab. They are now posted in a more clearly readable form than previously. Enjoy! And blessings on you all.

THE TRAVAILS OF A PREHISTORIC VALENTINE….

No, my friends, I haven’t died
I have just turned ninety-five;
It’s a sign that I am woke
And it’s better than a stroke!

If I tell you what’s transpired
You will think that I am mired
In a fantasy phantasm
An illusionary spasm.

Nepali guava juice

Ninety-four was quite a ball,
I went trav’ling in Nepal.
Soldiered through our winter weather,
Kept my weary brain together.

But the world is too chaotic
And the populace neurotic;
I can stand just so much stress
How to cope with such a mess?

One dark day I started wheezing
As I climbed a woodland hill
Want a life that’s wild and bold,
But, let’s face it, Meg, you’re OLD!

Then the Docs began exploring
Which, to me, was more than boring,
I was always in good health
I preferred it more than wealth!

Soon they’re checking blood and pressure
Pills for every kind of measure;
Side effects that make you crazy,
Dizzy, tired, depressed, and lazy!

Next they try a diuretic
And I’m feeling so pathetic
Used to be a pill-less wonder
Now my dreams are put asunder.

Well, for now the problem’s solved
Only one pill is involved;
But, there’s one last note, draconian,
Yeah, my diet is low sodium.

Winter fades, for spring we’re pining…
Things look up, the sun is shining!
Soon my birthday loomed ahead
I got nervous…what’s to dread?

June the third, a noble date,
Friends and fam’ly…will be great! ….from
Jersey, Texas, New York, too.
Perfect weather, dream come true!

But the day before the fest
As I welcomed one more guest
Suddenly one ear drum burst,
Sending pain that was the worst….

Dare I mention something simple
Also, there had formed a pimple
Underneath my nose, a sight
Like a headlight in the night.

So, I sat with one ear, hearing
Lovely songs and poems endearing,
Put my vanity in check
Take heart, you’re not a total wreck!

There’s no reason for complaint;
Now I know I’m not a saint,
And for all that day who gathered
Gratitude is all that mattered….and love.

THANK YOU, WORLD!

What a blast!

This may be the last of my doggerel-style, Ogden Nashian creations, except, of course, for birthday salvos. During the long winter months I began experimenting with different types of poetry, such as some modern-day stream-of-consciousness bloviation that can be serious as well as very funny. It seems that anything goes, today, and I will have to move beyond favorites like Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, and William Wordsworth to reach and understand poetry buffs of the 21st century.

I was overjoyed to discover, while re-reading the above poem, that its 7-beat rhythm perfectly coincided with a Tibetan chant I had heard at the Yeshe Long Buddhist Temple nearby in Clinton. Try reading the poem, slowly, and see how much fun it is to superimpose the words over the chant melody HERE.

Like many of you I have been ecstatic during this lovely spring and summer, and photographing the plethora of trees, shrubs, and exotic house plants that greet us each year. On past blogs I have posted photos of the spectacular landscape of the Langley Cemetery opposite Upper Langley, and it flourished as usual this year. But the house plants were especially striking, thanks to the care of son Tom, my plant whisperer. The orchids bloomed for four months, the geraniums flourished throughout the winter on the upstairs porch next to the cedar trees, and the succulents and hanging fuchsia had a heyday!

Lastly, a farewell to our sweet, but destructive, Langley rabbits, who perished this summer, cut down by a virulent virus, rabbit hemorrhagic disease. Many people, especially gardeners, were happy, but children were definitely sad! And it was, indeed, a terrible way to go. R.I.P.

It is with sadness that I see the end of summer approaching, but I have some exciting plans on the horizon which help the transition. First, I have another few weeks of recovering from a corneal membrane transplant. This is happy news and I couldn’t believe the good fortune of being able to correct an eye problem that has been with me for many decades. Modern medicine is amazing! I am also incredibly grateful to the person who donated the corneal membrane that I received.

Daughter Martha and I had planned to take a few weeks in Ireland in late October, but think it’s a bit too early for me to fly, so we’ll schedule that for another time. I will probably visit friends and relatives in Colorado around Thanksgiving and Christmas and hope to go to Spain (the Basque Country where our friend, Itzy, whom I wrote about in Nepal, lives) with my two daughters around February or March.

Planning is not easy these days, with plane fares through the roof and the global weather patterns unpredictable. But the desire to explore new places and keep in contact with friends and family is something that not even Covid could eliminate. It sure made it hard and has been a challenge for all of us to try to return to normal. However, there are certain positive effects I notice about living during this chaotic time. The attributes of gratitude and acceptance have taken on new meaning, at least in my life, and are closely tied to compassion, a virtue sorely needed that motivates us to help those who are suffering, however we can.

In spite of all that seems wrong with the world, I choose to be optimistic. There’s a lot of work to be done and Godspeed to all of us as we take up the challenge in our own way!

As I sit on my upstairs deck in mid-October, reveling in the glorious sun, loving the patterns made by the lacy cedar trees, listening to the squawk of the tree frogs and the chirping of the birds, and, later on, the owls as they teach their little ones to hoot, I wonder if I’ve died and gone to heaven. This can’t be! Whidbey Island in the Fall and no rain? And we’re still having potlucks outdoors at Cary’s house every Sunday evening.

Well, that will change when November rolls around. Two days after the traditional All Soul’s Eve at the Langley Woodmen Cemetery, Cary and I will leave for a week in South Korea, to visit our Tibetan friend, Shawo, then on to Nepal, returning on December 27th. We’ll be writing posts of our travels as we explore places where we haven’t been before…an organic farm resort in the Himalayan foothills, Buddha’s birthplace in Lumbini, our first Nepali Air BnB near Swayambhunath…and still two more weeks to figure out. It will be a different kind of exploration, unlike the previous treks in the Himalayas.

In the meantime, let me catch you up on a few special events that took place this summer. The Island Shakespeare Festival is always a treat, which occurs every summer and now has returned after Covid. This year included excellent productions of Love’s Labour’s Lost, Titus Andronicus, and a new version of Cyrano de Bergerac.

In August we were treated to a superb concert by Don Slepian at the Ambient Church in Seattle. Don is a dear friend, and former neighbor when our family was growing up in Summit, NJ. At a young age he played the electric piano and synthesizer, for which he has written remarkable music, and continues to be a pioneer in electronic and ambient music. He is a consummate musician and performer, and a devotee of a new kind of musical expression. His harmonies are lyrical, ethereal, imaginative. romantic, and moving. Check out his performances of the following titles: Sea of Bliss, Sonic Perfume, Rhythm of Life, the delightful and whimsical Duel at Sunrise, plus a plethora of magnificent pieces for electronic orchestra.

One other highlight of the summer was the stage reading at Langley’s Outcast Theater of the play I wrote with Lynne Warrin, Thank You, Dear. The director, Patricia Duff, and the cast were first class and the reception was over the top (all shows sold out!). Thank you, producer Ned Farley!

Three sisters meet at the family’s summer cottage to be together with their mother, Alice, for the 4th of July weekend, and, unbeknownst to her, to decide what course of action should be taken to ensure her wellbeing. With years of family emotional baggage in tow, each assumes her role in the family weekend. The complexities of family life come to the surface, and old tensions erupt. Alice, meanwhile, in enough mental control to make decisions, has her own ideas about her future.

Rachel Carey, Shelley Hartle, David Ossman, Joan Rosenblum, Jane Bothel, Christina Boom, Patricia Duff, Director, and me.

We’ll be thinking of you as Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around, and hope for all of us a more peaceful world as we move into winter. We’ll be back to wish you a Happy New Year!

A few weeks ago, I saw my final sunset of the season at Maxwelton Beach. A sunset is inspiring wherever you see it…on the Iberian Peninsula, in the Himalayas, or on Puget Sound…and makes you grateful for the never-ending beauty of nature, and for your own good fortune.

“What shall I do today?” This was the urgent question my friend, Claudia, told me was her morning mantra during the twelve days she was in voluntary lockdown at her snow-captured home the last week of December. The gods allowed Whidbey Island a glorious Christmas, but couldn’t resist topping it off with something only skiers and snowboarders would relish.

I don’t live alone, and have a joyful cohousing community to make me feel alive, so my isolation was less draconian. But not Claudia’s. She found that she was chatting to herself, as if waiting for the men in the white coats to pay her a visit, and when she finally made it to the Goose Grocer for a quart of milk, she all but grabbed every stranger in sight, like a masked bandit frantically looking to share the spoken word. Then she circled around town and after a couple of days drinking coffee at the nearest bistro, went back home. I’m glad to report that all indicators point to a speedy recovery.

As for me, for the first two days I was in heaven! Back in Jersey, again, grooving on snowdrifts. But when I decided to venture out and visit with a friend a few miles away, who challenged me to rescue him after his car refused to tackle the roads, I realized that my car was a flop on hills as well, and I knew that I had no hope of getting help from Langley’s solitary snowplow. I, too, resigned myself to isolation for the duration.

Sunset on Al Anderson Ave.

Forest walk

A loop through the cemetery

Love the snowy ferns!

Yew in the cemetery

So, it is with a great deal of awareness and compassion that I view my fellow-citizens. Whether you are suffering from an unspeakable natural disaster or an uptick in the endless Covid catastrophe, you are not alone. Keep your phone charged, plenty of reading material handy, and, finally, take this opportunity to cull through your storage locker or garage full of memorabilia, face what you have postponed for years, and make those hard decisions. Before you know it 2023 will be here.

Which brings me to the next subject. For those of you who read my December 30, 2020 blog post, you know that New Year’s Resolutions have been a longstanding obligation, if not an unpleasant thorn in my side. I can’t let another year go by without tending to them, agonizing about them, and telling them to get off my back and leave me the hell alone. Even after determining never to go near them again, here I am back on the old hamster wheel. Must I join New Year’s Resolutions Anonymous to kick the habit? How can I turn this liability into an asset once and for all, and die in the knowledge that my Karma will not be damaged if I don’t reach perfection? Haven’t I fulfilled my Protestant struggle of living life to the fullest in a resisting medium, knowing that the only way you coast is downhill? Have I forgotten that the year has only 365 days and you can fill them with only so much? Your thoughts and prayers will be gratefully accepted, and any suggestions to help me overcome this bothersome addiction will be seriously considered and wholeheartedly appreciated.

We celebrated Twelfth Night by walking a star made of luminaries, a tradition my daughter, Cary, and her friends have been doing since 1990. This year it was accompanied by a gentle snow. We do a star walk which for me is a walking meditation where you silently pass your fellow participants on your way to the next glowing star point, repeating the walk as many times as you wish. It is a fitting end to the Christmas season that also celebrates the return of the light. At the end we all gather to eat pieces of “bean cake”, which Cary has baked from a family recipe called Hobo Bread. It’s delicious, full of dried fruits and one bean, which some lucky participant will come upon, making him or her the king or queen for the year. Cary got the bean this year!