The world at night here is very dark. Pitch black. Only stars delineate the horizon. The roar of the ocean envelops all sound.

We walk past glossy dark-green sword ferns that would dwarf those in our garden at home, thriving in their natural habitat at twice the size of their urban brethren. Pools of standing water shimmer inky black broken only by Skunk cabbage sprouts and by silver rings pulsating outward from tree drip raindrops. The forest is black and green, stark and gothic in the deep of winter.

The world is reduced to a simple palate.

There are no neon lights, signs, advertisements, wires, traffic, roads, buildings, signs, people (also no covid, wifi, cell reception, restaurants, cafes, mobs, riots, or news, fake or otherwise).

There are smooth rocks of all sizes.

The beach is empty, save us. The sky is empty, save a family of bald eagles, two with white heads and tails, two juveniles sporting mottled brown overall. The beach is seemingly devoid of life. What are the eagles looking for as they fly over and over along the coastline? The views are vast and repetative.

The sea roils with white grey swells crashing incessantly into the shore and each other. The sound created is like hundreds of waterfalls layed end to end. Tumbling and tumbling.

There is a thin line of craggy trees, a few crashing in yearly mudslides down the clay embankment.

The wild Washington coast is one of my favorite places to be in winter. It’s a yearly pilgrimage of mine, a birthday tradition to revisit the Pacific Ocean. Time here is suspended, and the passing of time is only relevant in relation to the tides or geological time-frames. It could as easily be any century, any millennium. I’ve often thought of time as spiral, and here is an affirmation of that hypothesis. As I walk along the beach here, as I have walked along the beach here for many winters prior, I am the same body, here is the same beach, trees, sky and waves. The coast here is my touchstone. Many changes over the past year, yet nothing has changed. There’s something humbling and comforting, rejuvenating and inspiring about celebrating my birthday annually in the presence of ancient trees, timeless winds and ceaseless waves.

It’s so wild out here on the Olympic coast that the beaches don’t even have names. Ocean Beaches, the signs all point westward, or northward, or northwestward. “Ocean Beaches: collectively, that-a-way. We followed the signs north and west and arrived at Kalaloch where we explored all the nearby beach access points to create a small listicle guide: Beach 1 (spruce burls), Beach 2 (bonsai beach), Beach 3 (cozy cove), Beach 4 (superlative).

BONUS, dear Reader, are a few recent of Lake’s quirky quotes:

“North of December” Is where we are now? Is that January?

“You’re boring my whiskers out” Ahhh, the ennui of the four year old.

Ironically, with all the open space, there’s no room room for boredom at the beach!

A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you

From November 28, 2020

It may sound grandiose, however, Storm King is a name befitting it’s station. This is the Pacific Northwest, a land that does majestic mountains. The people here do majestic mountains. So although the 4 mile round trip trail– which butresses Lake Crescent to the south– clocks a 2000′ elevation gain, we stormed that king. Our hosts (Lake’s good friend George’s family) took five little kids up that mountain like a walk to Rite-aid and back. Our German au pair had no choice but to huff up as well. How can you not, despite the despair of the switchbacks, when five children are racing ahead of you and the mossy adults are grimly striding it out PNW-style, forcing a smile whenever they catch a glance being sneaked at them?

Storm King thus invoked a romantic mood as the eleven of us leaned into the rocky trail, breathing heavily of the cold winter air. The woods were dripping with dampness, the cascading waterfall out of sight but sending whorls of mist up the mountainside. Our little hiking party was ebullient, having just ascended Storm King and viewed the great expanses of the Straight of Juan de Fuca and beyond. Lake was holding hands with George’s next oldest sister, Beatrice. They were gamboling down the trail together like puppies.

“My mama loves time out”, Lake said by way of a pick-up line. “Yes, she loves it when I put her in time out,” he tried again.

I was called into position as his wingman. “It’s true. Adults love time out”, I say. “We call it ‘me time.’”

Lake said to Beatrice, “maybe when we’re in college we could get married.”

“I’m too old for you,” said Beatrice, age seven.

Lake, not dissuaded, continued, “Maybe you can wait and decide when we’re in high school.”

She let go of his hand and continued skipping sweetly down the trail. Old man’s beard waved at her bouncing curls as she passed. The crinkly strands of algae-imbued fungus danced on the misty updraft, quite at home on the craggy ravine, ageless and impervious to the passing of time.

In her decicive refusal, Beatrice was intuiting the The Ayres Age-Appropriate Dating ToolTM (aka “The Gap App”TM). The fictitious Gap AppTM is a formula developed by Michael Ayres VanLaanen to test the maximum age difference a potential dating pair can withstand. The Older may exceed The Younger’s age by 125%, without it being “weird”. (So,at age 11, you might have the best chance Lake, when Beatrice is 14.)

In his persistance, Lake was also channelling the Gap AppTM, in graciously offering she could wait and re-evaluate his marriage proposal in ten years time. He had a wise notion that their relative age difference would diminish over time, and that by the time they were “in high school” she might feel differently.

Nonplussed, Lake moved along, continuing his inspired romantic musings. “I could also marry a boy. But I think I’ll probably marry a gwirl,” Lake said.

Piper’s name came up. At just 3 months younger than Lake, his babyhood friend Piper does handily pass the Gap App test. “Yeah, I’ll probably marry Piper,” he concluded, satisfied. Sure-footed as a mountain goat he scampered on down the trail after George and Beatrice, ahead of the rest of us.

In spite of the travel restrictions of the past year, I worked to show Madeline as many of the local PNW attractions as possible. If nothing else, it’s part of our duty as an au pair host family to provide a culture exchange experience. One crucial part of this cultural education is sharing the zeitgeist of our major American towns and cities. I described our slightly quirky twin city to the south Portland, sharing about the phenomenon and show Portlandia (and insisted she watch the chicken episode).

Back in January the kids and I seized the opportunity to travel to Portland for a long weekend with our best friends. Madeline joined us for giggles and after doing her homework submitted to me her itinerary of Portland sightseeing musts: Voodoo Donuts and the Cullen House.

One morning while the kids were all playing harmoniously, Madeline and I set out for downtown Portland amidst reports of infamous New Years rioting. (Because, obviously). We felt like dystopian voyagers, resolutely braving the unknown, willing to risk our lives (or join the cause) for donuts. On this dark gray rainy late morning in the dead of winter, the Downtown Core was essentially deserted save our (and others’) destination: Voodoo Donuts.

We joined the snaking crowd of peaceful donut hopefuls, kept in physically distanced line by the Voodoo Donut bouncer. Once admitted, we shook the rain off and allowed ourselves to be enveloped in the warmth, noise and hot sugar perfume. We were overwhelmed and momentarily paralyzed by our good fortune. The choices were so outlandish and decadent, how were we ever to decide? Feeling pressure to move expeditiously through the shop, we capitulated and threw 20 bucks at the Voodoo Dozen.

The riches of Voodoo goodness did not disappoint.

Next stop was 3333 Quimby—The Cullen House. The Cullen House is home to fictional vampire family in “Forks, Washington” from the famous film trilogy Twilight. We found the culdesac address at the top of a tiny sliver of Queen Anne style neighborhood, parked, and got out to take in the experience. We lurked shyly at the bottom of the long gravel driveway while the apparent homeowner snapped dirt off his running shoes with a proprietary air. We halfheartedly waved and quickly turned to go after not receiving a warm welcome. Our brief glimpse of the Cullen House remains a highlight. It is truly breathtaking the way the Frank Lloyd Wright style home is situated on a ravine and invites your fantasy into the world of the vampire family created by author Stephenie Meyer.

The best part of the Portland getaway is, of course the Lakacisms:

Lake: Lady Kitty is staring at me like she’s hungry for milkies. Lady Kitty, your milkies is driving!!

Mama: you have a hot chocolate mustache. It’s making you look old. [Sad face]

Lake retorts helpfully: Look at my legs. Not long.

Lake regarding Madeline: It’s always nice to have an au pair to help you. They do so much work that you don’t even notice. And sometimes they can even read your mind.

The least we can do in return is to brave riots to get her a Voodoo Donut… or a dozen.

We here at A Perfect Day wish you, dear Reader, a wonderful, cozy and joyful New Year’s Eve and a very Happy New Year!

It is on a hopeful note that we ring in 2021. Maybe the roaring twenties will begin to simmer down to a contented purr. Michael just got his first dose of covid vaccine yesterday and we are sheltering together on this rainy weekend with the best of friends. We are so grateful to our friends, family and neighbors who made all the difference in 2020. The year that felt the seismic impact of covid-19. And gave the world several vaccines at the close. The year that gave us Lady Kitty. And yielded the fruits of new friendships.

And today, as every day, I can earnestly say if I pause to consider it with gratitude: A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you!

Everything was a little upside down this year; a tad off kilter; a bit kattywampus; “unprecedented” was the descriptive refrain.

This year’s holidays, being no exception, progressed thusly encumbered. A little less festive, a lot less large gatherings (aka “parties”), and we must’ve forgone our Nutcracker ballet tradition.

Nonetheless, merrymakers we managed to be. In the stead of large gatherings we enjoyed a few of our traditions as well as a smattering of new whimsical and creative fêtes: a private symphony concert al Fresca, front yard bonfire etcetera. Holidays are often the highlights of childhood. It was Lady Kitty’s first Christmas after all! We commenced to withhold no efforts in introducing her to our very best version. And for Lake, at four years old, truly nothing can dampen the thrill of the advent, Santa, and Christmas coming. Lake was focused on the holiday like never before, his emotions running high. He was by turns devastated that Christmas wasn’t tomorrow yet, and devastated that Christmas would soon be over, and ecstatic that Christmas was coming and ecstatic that Christmas was finally here. (What joy!)

Here and gone, like the gift of a white glazing of wet snow leading up to the final days before Christmas. The memories of time spent together, however, are not ephemeral. When the ribbons settle, and the wrapping paper is recycled, the friendships are the true gifts that remain.

We are grateful we were able to see so many dear ones this holiday season whose friendships sustain us. We carried on, calmly I hope. Respectfully and prudently I trust. In shifts. Not all at once. Sometimes at a distance. Sometimes together. Some virtually. Some not at all. We kept up some play dates. We kept up the cheer. We spread love, not fear of Covid, this year.

My son, who used to think a bulb of garlic made a suitable snack, is now enthusiastic about sweets. Lake could open his mouth and point out to you his sweet tooth, except it’s hard to choose just one.

“They’re all a sweet teeth,” he proclaims.

The sweetest thing though, is not the cakes, of course. It’s the moments the cakes support. The memories the moments make. A visit with a neighbor. Lingering over dinner, the anticipation of dessert. Coffee with a friend. Sweetness appears in many forms.

Recently during an impromptu Friday night out at the neighborhood open-air fruit and vegetable stand, Lake surprised me by doing the shopping. In rapid success he procured two bags of whole carrots, two bags of baby carrots, a handsome bunch of celery, a fractalicious head of Romanesco broccoli, a tender fluffy head of lettuce, a gigantic ginger tuber, and three Bosc pears which he took care not to bruise. My heart swelled with joy and pride to see this confident, capable, well-adjusted kid leading the shop for veggies. I ask the young woman who is helping us check out to please add to our bill the two avacodos and a dozen eggs from the guy standing behind us in line.

I don’t want to rush this sweet experience with my son.

The after-work guy stops dancing from foot to foot, looks minorly surprised, then relieved as he peels off clutching his avacados and eggs in either hand, badge trailing behind him. Lake continued loading the items onto the counter one by one, oblivious to the cold, talking in between with the cute checker who was also wearing a huge puffy coat.

In this moment, my thirst for high adventure is sated by a Friday evening walk to Rising Sun with my children, where my son has a chance to do some shopping and flirt with the checker. What could be sweeter?

Maybe just afterwards coming home to a warm kitchen and a cake in the oven.

…

Try my recipes and let me know what you think!

Six-Minute Mocha Cake
375 ~35 min

1 1/2 c GF flour
1 t baking soda
1/3 c cocoa powder
1/2 t salt
1 c sugar

1/2 c vegetable oil
1 c cold coffee
2 t vanilla
2 T apple cider vinegar

Almond Vanilla Donut Cake

350 ~1 hour

2 c almond flour
2 c GF flour
1-1/2 c sugar
2 T baking powder
1 t salt

2 c soymilk
1 T apple cider vinegar
1 T vanilla

Vegan Vanilla Icing
cream together
2 T sofened vegan buttery spread
3 C powdered sugar
2-3 T almond/soy milk
1 t vanilla
sprinkles!

Double Chocolate Cupcakes
350 ~20 minutes

1 1/2 c GF flour
1/2 c cocoa powder
1 c sugar
1 t baking soda
1/2 t salt

1/3 c coconut oil melted
2/3 c soymilk
1 t vanilla
1 t apple cider vinegar
3 T vanilla coconut milk yogurt

Chocolate Frosting
cream together
1/2 c vegan buttery spread
3 c powdered sugar
1/2 c cocoa powder
2 1/2 T soy milk

Lake and Madeline woke up on December 6th to chocolates and oranges in their shoes. Lake said, “St. Nikolaus came in the night, and I didn’t hear him come!”

Nana also came, and there was not a chance she could be missed. A freshly cut 9’ Noble fir tree accompanied her—announcing her arrival. What a gorgeous tree and what delightful fun to have Nana visiting for the weekend. Nana had premade and brought along a beautiful gingerbread barn and gingerbread cookies to decorate.

Hot chocolate was enjoyed, the tree was trimmed, and ornaments were broken. To assuage some of the pain, I told Lake that this was our tradition. We break a few ornaments decorating the tree and then we have a lovely Christmas season. It’s like “break a leg” for good luck on the stage. Break a glass ball (or two) for a lucky Christmas this year.

We enjoyed a few of the daylight hours out on the Salish Sea before Nana retuned to Aberdeen with Lake in tow for a visit with Baba.

With Lake away it gets very quiet at home. And all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. We love this spot of restfulness and linger over our decadent fresh smelling tree on these long winter evenings.

Thank you, Nana! Thank you for bringing the Christmas cheer! You’re our favorite St. Nick, year after year!

Amidst the backdrop of the constraints of covid culture, we are so thankful to nonetheless have cobbled together a memorable Thanksgiving celebration for 2020. This is especially important because we are sharing American Thanksgiving with our German au pair and creating lasting impressions for Lake. Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday growing up. This year there was no game of sardines with the cousins, but we did enjoy some new traditions in addition to Nana’s turkey, trimmings, and pumpkin pie—Madeline’s cake, a Greenlake run and a touch of hygge around the front yard campfire. Happy thanksgiving to you all! Love and connection brings the meaning to life.

Lake was excited to share his dream from the night before this day with me. “Madeline already knows,” he said. “I was coming back from Africa on a cruise and a cheetah was so fast it snuck on board in Africa and came back with me all the way to Seattle.”

Dumbfounded, I said after a pause, “Was it a boy or a girl cheetah?“

Lake hastened to inform me, “That’s not the important part. The amazing part is that there was a cheetah with me on the cruise at all.”

We set out for “Brainbridge” on foot, and once we were underway, I vacillated between going and not going. We had been planning on driving downtown to the ferry terminal to get a jump start on our adventure. Just as we were all ready to get all buckled in, we discovered our car had vaporized —stolen in the night. In a mild state of shock and comical farce, we ended up taking the bus and the light rail. Perhaps exploring the trendy Capital Hill neighborhood would suffice, after all I was thinking, so we got off the link after one stop; it was predicted to rain beginning at 1pm. Once we were walking around Capital Hill, though, it felt too anticlimactic. Our goal was to have an adventure and show Madeline some of the beauty of our region, beyond the comfortable but familiar shelter of our home.

Lake was the decision maker. He said, “there will be no more discussion, or Lady Kitty will have a time out when we get home. Let’s go to Brainbridge.” The Olympic Mountains shone like snowy beacons just beneath the overhead blanket of grey. That ferry ride was in order after all.

The trip over on the ferry was breathtaking. Not just the cold wind, but the ethereal beauty of Seattle surrounded by grey water below and grey sky above, with a rim of snow capped mountains encircling the city on the thin strand of horizon, like a diamond necklace. It was cold, but not too cold as to preclude Lake’s enthusiasm for getting ice cream (strawberry sorbet) at Mora. A light freezing rain began to rain on us while we were on the island and kept up the whole way home.

We will all sleep well tonight! A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you.