Tuesday, September 25, 2018


I rented in this neighborhood for six months before I bought, and when a house I could afford came available I jumped. The thing I would not trade for anything—one of the most precious measures of home—is that my neighborhood is walkable.

Going out my door and strolling with the dogs is a great source of joy to me. From our door, we can walk down a quiet wooded lane, descend from the high bluff through a dappled forest, traverse a mile of secluded beach on the shore of the Salish Sea, and hike up a quiet country road to return home.

My other favorite place to walk is near X's home (below). There, I experience the feeling of spaciousness that I remember from my California childhood. The windswept hillsides, sun-soaked and dotted with trees. The golden grasses bent over and rattling. That sort of sprawling landscape feels, to me, like heaven.

I'm grateful to this land for holding me as lovingly as the California hills once did.  Whidbey, isle of view.

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