Portland:
Is like an extension of home. Familiar. Full of friends. We even run into Lali and Goat unexpectedly after a late lunch downtown.
It is gray and wet, and everyone is talking about the weather. When will it decide to be summer?
I quietly hope that I am not dragging Sean north into an even colder, wetter season.
ORCAS ISLAND
We were welcomed with budding roses, thick patches of nettles, and the start of a garden that promised a rich and rewarding harvest. Al’s house is “The Coop.” It isn’t what you would expect from an old hen house. In fact, it has morphed quite successfully into a comfortable home. It is the caterpillar post-cocoon.
Al is learning about home-ferments. We help him fill bottles with a strong ginger brew. Three bottles are loaded into the van with strict instructions to drink them in three to five days.
Al is invited to a party, and we tag along. We soak in a wood fired hot-tub. There is a mushroom hunting party, and we cook their bounty in a cast iron pan on the wood stove. Home-made kombucha is shared. We are consuming this island: Its energy in the plants we eat and the people we meet.
For Sean’s birthday we walk into the clouds on
area on the island. We plan a scrumptious birthday dinner. We return to The Coop with groceries. I leave to pick nettles for lasagna, and when I get back people are showing up for a “Booty Shaking Drill Team” rehearsal. Learner, who we had met the night before, brings oyster mushr
ooms, and I pick Kale, spinach and chard from Al’s garden. The lasagna is layers of mushrooms, nettles, greens, and cheese. I also bake two pies, but use crusts that we bought from t
he restaurant Al bakes for. Sean practices the bass while I cook, and I can hear drums from outside. If I look out the window I have a lovely view of some real booty-shakers practicing their moves. Learner, Al, Sean and I sit down to a fresh, Orcas grown salad, and my first ever nettle lasagna. And the pies were perfect.
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