#Womensmarch Orcas Island

I started to write a post on spaghetti squash, feta and sausage but had a hard time wrapping my head around food after such a monumental weekend. #womensmarch

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I haven’t done any blog reading the last three days and haven’t taken a pulse of blogs and politics. At least with the food and garden bloggers I follow. I’m sure there are countless political blog posts and I will be honest in saying I don’t follow many… ok – any. I read NYTimes online and I try to stay informed. And a visit to my Dad, who lives in a cabin on our property where MSNBC runs virtually 24/7, provides a strong dose of information.

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Polar Bear Plunge 2013, Orcas Island WA

Cascade Lake, Moran State Park, Orcas Island WA 1-1-13
Polar plunge and egg basket-2-2Polar bear plunge. Three very descriptive words. I see a white polar bear in full throttle sinking into an exposed patch of the ice. It is an adrenaline rush that has yet to seduce me.
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Summer clips

Summer comes and goes quickly… As I mentioned we are back to school and ‘the routine’ while folks on Orcas are still enjoying the last scraps of summer till Labor Day. I’m enjoying our own last weeks of summer vicariously through our large roll of photo imports and the thankfully persisting warm days and evenings. So get comfy cause I got some highlights of summer photos to share!

Waking up at 4.30am at the Anacortes Inn, (it’s no Hilton but is clean and does the job) the day after landing in Seattle, patiently waiting for day break and letting my DOD (81yrs old) sleep till we can’t take it anymore… The first glimpse of summer from the Anacortes ferry landing.

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Goat Cheese, Lemon and Pea Pasta, Grilled Salmon and a peak at Frog Song Farm…

I’d like to introduce you to Frog Song Farm, our summer digs, with a couple of photos I snapped last night. This humble octagonal structure was built by a man child at the age of 24, so the story goes. And it miraculously still stands roughly 30 years later. My first introduction was a description of Frog Song Farm posted on a small blue lined 3×5 index card in the spring of 1993 at the Seattle Tilth office in Good Shepherd’s park. “15 Acre Organic Farm, cabin, mature fruit trees” it read.  I was just finishing my degree at Bastyr College. After my last class, we took a six week journey traveling up the inside passage with a VW bus on a boat, then drove back down through Alaska and the Yukon. It was the moment of our return that I found myself busting to get out of the city. Three weeks later I sat on the lawn outside of a then intact octagonal structure surrounded by a small picket fence smothered with trailing roses. Ripe fruits of mid August swooned me. Laying in the grass, cocked on one elbow twirling grass blades between my fingers, I, also ripe at 25, negotiated with the owner as to how I could make this work.

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