Hello and happy Sunday!
We are writing to you from the couch on our favorite deserted island in the San Juans. It’s a family rendezvous, with Walker coming from LA, our dad coming from Las Vegas, Campbell and Savannah flying in from SV, and my mom, the dogs, and me roadtrippin’ from Idaho. It’s always an inordinate amount of work, getting here—between the planning and the grocery shopping and the schlepping, but it’s more than worth it. Being in the Pacific Northwest always feels familiar—the home kind of familiar. It's the truest form of relaxation for us, and lord knows our family needs it.
February is always a weird time—still deep in winter, but on the breeze is the promise of spring. Below the ground, roots are stretching deeper and absorbing and storing nutrients. Seeds are starting to break from their pods. The animals in hibernation are slowly beginning to wake from their winter slumbers. Some birds are starting to follow their migratory paths North. While the movements toward spring may be invisible to us, they are happening all the same. Lots of little happenings, slow and steady, that will compound into the beautiful burst of spring in March, April, and May. But, not without the invisible, underground happenings of February.
With this, we’re reminded that things take time—things like our puppy growing, Savannah healing, Rompy succeeding, and winter turning into spring. Invisible roots and small seeds to make for a magnificent spring and a fruitful summer. Nature works this way, and so we do, too.
While overnighting at our grandparent’s farm, we stocked up on Nana’s summer-picked raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Blueberry coffee cake, raspberry-compote crepes, and blackberry scones are on the list so far. Perfect summer berries, also made possible by the dark, late winter days. 🌱
I love this. June is my favorite month, and I always want to rush toward it. Yall put some good reminders here. Always good to hear from you. <3