Wave of the Present: Do You? Don’t You? Why?

Posted on August 17, 2014 by gretchenwing

When I drive, I have twitchy fingers. Every time I pass another car, person or bike, I wave a couple of digits in their direction.

It’s not just me. All locals do it. Lopez Island is known as The Friendly Isle. Most of us use the one-or-two-finger approach; some go whole-hog and use all five. I even know a couple of folks who’ve installed a floppy glove on their dashboard, vertically, which takes care of all their waving needs.

It’s the Lopez Wave.

You can tell it’s summer by the low percentage of folks who wave back. Takes tourists a while to get the memo. But when they do, they join in enthusiastically–all five fingers.

Off-island, though, it can be a little embarrassing. When you wave at other drivers in Seattle, they tend to think you’re warning them about something. “What? What? Did I leave my latte on my roof again?”

And off-island on rural roads? It always takes me about three days to quit waving at folks. I guess they don’t mind. They even wave back sometimes.

So I’m wondering: is this a rural thing? No one waved on the dirt roads where I grew up in North Carolina. Maybe it’s Midwestern? There are a lot of Midwestern roots in the Pacific Northwest. Do folks wave at each other in Hawaii? Or just give the aloha sign?

I really am curious. Please weigh in with your thoughts. The only other thing I’ll ask of you is…when someone waves, wave back.

To Market, To Market: What’s a Nice Author Like You Doing in a Farmers’ Market Like This?

Posted on July 21, 2014 by gretchenwing

“You’re selling your book at the Farmers’ Market?”

I could try for a real metaphorical stretch here.

“See, my book, it, like, grew from my imagination, and I, uh, watered and tended it through several drafts, and, like, weeded the extra words out, and then, like, harvested it and cleaned it up all nice. So, yeah. It’s really fresh, and, oh! Totally organic. And local. And gluten free. Want to try a sample?”

But I really don’t have to go there. Let me refer you to the Lopez Island Farmers’ Market Vendor Guidelines: “…products must be produced, grown, gathered, created, hand crafted or prepared by the vendor.”

Produced–check. Created–check. Crafted–check, though not EXACTLY by hand. And…prepared? All those drafts, you kidding? Most definitely Check.

Gotta give credit where credit is due: I never would have thought of book-selling at our Market, much as I love it. My friends Ty and Nora, fellow garden fairies, gave me the idea.

What a blast!

The first time I went, over July Fourth Weekend, I sold 15 copies. Granted, seven of those were to people I knew, so that probably won’t happen again. And of course I bought some stuff: eggs. A bunch of lavender. Salmon-and-goat-cheese crepe. (Did I mention our Farmers’ Market ROCKS?)

But still, even with the Market dues, I came out ahead, financially. And socially? Off the charts.

I brought my guitar and sang away, quietly, as people strolled by. Pretty soon I realized the horrible acoustics of the Great Outdoors meant I could sing as loud as I wanted to. Bingo. People heard me, smiled, stopped. The songs provided a bridge between us: no uneasy eye contact (“Oh shoot, if I look at her she’s going to try to sell me something!”). Plenty of time for folks to peruse my display, reading the words from Amazon reviews which I’d enlarged and posted (on fluffy paper “clouds,” since my book’s about a flying girl 🙂 ).

Most of all, plenty of good feeling. They immediately liked this person, sitting there singing-not-“selling,” and felt good about talking to her. After we’d chatted a while, even if they had started out thinking, “What in the world would I want with a Young Adult book?”, they might then think, “Y’know, the neighbors’ kid likes to read…I’ll get this for her.”

Thanks, Ty and Nora! And thank you, Kristen Lamb, for the reminder: buying a book from someone you don’t know is a risk. These days, it’s an author’s job to reach out and take that risk away.

Who knew it would be so much fun?

I’ve met folks from Belgium, Japan, Mexico, and Australia. I’ve talked to random strangers about their flying dreams. (“In YOUR dreams, do you fly arms-out like on my book cover, or do you have wings, or…?”) I’ve sung harmony with other music friends who happen by. I’ve had my own, private Cute Dog Contest, watching the pooches stroll by (puppies win by default).

So I feel just fine about busting into this new gig, selling my “produce.” And hey. Did I mention my book is also gluten free?

Want to weigh in on Farmers’ Markets? Do you think they should just be for farmers? Or do you like having craftspeople there? Ever sold anything at a market yourself? Or…if you could, what would you sell?

Happy “Independence” Day to All You Small Business Owners…Bless Your Hearts!

Posted on July 4, 2014 by gretchenwing

When I left teaching to become a baker, some of my former students were confused. “How’s your bakery?” I would sometimes see on Facebook.

Well, they were half right. I do feel like it’s MY bakery, especially when I unlock the doors at oh-dark-thirty and turn our oven on. But in truth, Holly B’s Bakery (“Holly’s Buns Are Best”) is not MINE…for which I thank my lucky stars. Especially at this time of year.

For a little bakery in a town with a tourist-dependent economy, July Fourth is Black Friday and the post-Christmas sales all wrapped up in one buttery croissant. Or make that 250 croissants.

Our kitchen is TINY. Three bakers have to squeeze past each other. We have only one oven. But the food must be baked! Here, I’ll try to give you some visuals:

Can you imagine the planning all this bounty requires? The ordering, the scheduling, the storage? What if you get it wrong? What if you run out of chocolate chips? What if you bake too many pesto baguettes and not enough of the olive tapenade? What if you make too much? What if you don’t make enough?

How does Holly ever sleep in late June (let alone continue to be the World’s Nicest Boss)???

Holly’s oldest son, Ty, is now co-owner (and the World’s Second Nicest Boss). Maybe it eases the stress to have someone to plan with. I sure hope so!

I LOVE my job. I love “my” bakery. But around Independence Day, I am extra-super grateful that I’m fairly “independent” of the stress of being in charge, and I take my hat off to all those brave souls who carry that load.

Happy Independence Day, business owners! Now go get some sleep.

How ’bout you? Do you own your own business? ARE you your own business? Or do you have that in your family? How do people COPE????

Paddling With Orcas: Why This Post Isn’t What You Think

Posted on June 2, 2014 by gretchenwing

If it sounds like bragging, I’m sorry; this is not my intention. But I’ve just checked something off my life list of hoped-for experiences: kayaking with orcas.

If you’re expecting a polemic about whale-watching or the Marine Mammals Act, this is not that post either. I have strong feelings about whale harassment, but as someone who has, in the past, paid to follow whales in a motorized boat, I’m no one to cast stones.

What else is this post not? A travel brochure for the San Juan Islands. A reverie on the joys of career-switching. A love poem.

Actually, that last one? It kind of is.

Here’s what happened. The Mate and I just spent the night camping on San Juan Island, the “Big Island” of the San Juans (compared to our little Lopez, which is more potluck than sushi restaurant in culture). Being Wings, we got up early to go paddling.

Our boys will tell you that the family mantra is, “If we get up early, we might see a moose!” (They will also tell you that said moose, if seen at all, was just as likely to be seen, after our return from our early-morning hike, in the parking lot hanging out with those tourists who had slept in.)

But my point is, we were out on the water before 7:30. So we had the Salish Sea all to ourselves. Heading toward Lime Kiln Point on San Juan’s western shore, we knew we were in the home waters of the resident pods, but we tried not to get our hopes up. After all, it was a gorgeous morning. The sun made the flat water sparkle. Giant madronas leaned over the dark rocks high above us. As if cued by a Nat Geo director, an eagle dived for a fish. All this arrayed before a backdrop of white-draped Olympic mountains, in the company of each other. As the Passover service says, “Dayenu”–it would have been sufficient.

And then the orcas came. Or rather, we came to them, or we came together, just as I’ve always dreamed about.

(Orig. image courtesy Wikimedia)

OK, not exactly. In those dreams, the orcas surface next to my kayak and look me in the eye. But, seriously? Those critters are HUGE!!! I was just as happy to view them from a safe distance of 75 yards. Plus I could feel smug about following the rules and trying to stay out of their way, or, ahem, at least not paddling toward them.

We paddled in slow circles for a while, resisting the attempts of the current to sweep us past the pod, whose vigorous leaps and splashes spoke of breakfast, or happiness, or both. Three? Five? Four! Oh my, the SIZE of that dorsal fin!! And when the pod–oh look, a BABY!!–headed north, we turned around and kept pace with them for the next twenty minutes, marveling over every shining curve of black and white, every blast of breath.

(Orig. image courtesy Wikimedia)

(Of course as soon as we got home, we called up our kids and reminded them that, if you get up early, you can see a moose. Or the marine equivalent.)

So what is this post about? Blessings. Gifts. From Nature, God, the gods–pick your word. It’s about feeling overwhelmed by beauty and power and plain old good fortune. It’s about being completely humbled by what happens when one of your dreams comes true.

Have you had a moment like this? Can you express it? Please, please share!

Sorry, Dolly Parton: Wildflowers DO Care Where They Grow…And That’s Cool

Posted on May 7, 2014 by gretchenwing

Dolly Parton’s lovely song notwithstanding, wildflowers can be very picky about their habitat. But when they find a home, oh wow, do they show their appreciation. This week I’m giving special thanks for that. Since my sweet dog left us last weekend, I’ve been going for walks without a dog for the first time in ten years, and the flowers act like comforting hugs.

The Mate and I are especially blessed to live not only on a beautiful island, but adjacent to a piece of land that has recently been declared part of a National Monument (thanks, President Obama!). We walk out into the meadow to be greeted by a riot of flowers.

Sometimes it’s enough just to appreciate them in a blanket. But usually I’m drawn down to my knees to inspect their delicacy up close. These flowers deserve a better photographer than me, but in my mind’s eye they’re captured exactly as they should be.

But it’s the picky ones that are my favorites. The Calypso Orchid only grows in patches of woods where it can find a particular fungus it likes. Spotting one, so perfect in its intricate fleshiness, feels like a special gift.

Then there’s the chocolate lily. I don’t think I love it just for its name, but that doesn’t hurt. Nearly brown (although with the sun shining through their petals, they are actually a gorgeous burgundy), they camouflage themselves among the buttercups and field chickweed. Then you spot one. Oh. There’s another. Oh, my. Suddenly you realize you are looking at an entire sweep of these tiny creatures that look like something from a very expensive bouquet.

I was thinking about writing about the question, “Why do I care so much about knowing the ‘names’ of these flowers?” Or, “What is it about IDing something in nature that makes me feel so good?” But I’m really not feeling that philosophical right now. I am content to feel comforted.

Thanks, flowers. I needed that.

Favorite flower experiences? What do wildflowers do for you? Please share your special ones.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle…on the Catwalk

Posted on August 29, 2013 by gretchenwing

High Fashion made a grand entrance to Lopez Island last week, and got dumped.

Literally. The Second Annual Trashion-Fashion event is a fundraiser for our beloved Dump, and all outfits must be made from materials gleaned either there or at the Thrift Shop. And boy, were they ever.

I didn’t get to go last year, but I had seen some of the winning entries displayed at our library, so I couldn’t wait. And I was NOT disappointed. I knew we had some amazingly creative folks around here, but this blew me away.

The decor alone, featuring chandeliers of found objects, was jaw-dropping. Here’s a taste:

Bike tire rims, lamp shades, neckties…you name it, they chandeliered ’em. (All photos courtesy Anne Whirledge-Karp)

As for the outfits…I think I’ll give the ol’ adjectives a rest and let the visuals do the work for once:

Ever wonder what to do with that old Twister game in your closet?

Isn’t she ADORABLE? Those are CDs on her head. She could belly-dance, too. Definitely a prize-winner.

Not even a broken leg could keep Sheila off the catwalk. She ditched the wheelchair and used crutches to model her bead-curtain Cleopatra ensemble.

Isn’t this outfit the last straw? Seriously, she must have used every last straw in the dump. It’s ALL straws!

A grand prize winner…made of deer fencing! Not too comfy, but Maria wore the hell out of that dress.

…and a lil’ something for the ladies too!

I wish I could say these designers and models inspired me to make my own outfits out of castaway stuff, but the closest I’ve ever come to that kind of creativity is sewing old Levi’s pockets onto the back of my green jeans for patches. Sigh. At next year’s Trashion-Fashion event, I will be happily occupying my rightful place in the audience once more.

But I’ll bet I have some creative readers out there. What’s the coolest item you’ve ever re-purposed? Brag a little!

(And thanks again to my friend Anne Whirledge-Karp for all the great photos. Next year I’ll bring MY camera!)

Sure, I Have a Website…Just a Sec…

Posted on August 26, 2013 by gretchenwing

Last week I launched my nation-wide radio career.

Well, that may be a TEENSY bit of overstatement. But I did do a radio interview with a lovely man named Mark Judkins Helpsmeet, who produces a show out of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, called Song of the Soul. http://www.northernspiritradio.org/ He played a half-dozen of my songs, asking me about each one, and about my journey as a songwriter. A journey that is just beginning, I might add, as in–18 months, give or take. An unplanned, and so far, mostly unguided journey, with no particular destination in mind. Especially not national exposure.

Which may explain why, when Mark asked me if I had a website, I choked.

First I said, “No.” Then I quickly amended with, “I mean, yeah, I do…I mean it’s not a songwriting website or anything, but I do have a blog…I mean, I’m a writer, that’s my real career now, so, yeah…” Then I blurted out the URL.

Mark (kindly): Ah, are you sure that’s correct? URL’s don’t usually have @ in them.

Me (not at all flustered, on national radio): Oh. Yeah. Right. I mixed it up with my email. My website is…just a sec…

When I told this anecdote to a friend later, she asked me, “So if you’re starting to get attention as a songwriter, why DON’T you use that to promote your writing career?”

Ummm…because I’m ~~new to the whole idea of self-promotion and still finding my way in the dark~~ an idiot?

So now I’m thinking: Yeah, why DON’T I? The whole singing-songwriting thing is beginning to generate a life of its own. I’m putting myself out there on the stage, relying on a decent voice and a darn good writing style (I’m certainly not relying on my guitar skills!), so why NOT put myself out there in cyberspace as well? Let’s see what happens, shall we?

So, to begin: here are two clips from a recent community concert on Shaw Island, the next ferry stop over. I didn’t realize, when I accepted the invitation to participate, just how GOOD the other musicians were, and I had the interesting luck of following a FOURTEEN YEAR-OLD future phenom onstage–which explains the intro of this first song. My friend Bruce got totally jostled while trying to record me, so if you can’t handle the jumpy camera, just close your eyes and listen, ok? It’s a good song.

The second song’s intro got cut off, but I have to sneak it in here ’cause I’m proud of it. I said, “I wanted to write a good ol’-fashioned My-baby-left-me song, but my baby never has left me, so I had to use my imagination.” 🙂

So, hey. Whether you listened to the songs or not (how’m I gonna know? It’s not like I count YouTube hits or anything), I’d like to hear from you. Why is self-promotion so hard? Is it harder for women, do you think? Does it get easier? Or maybe it should never get too easy? Let me hear!

Invasion of the Sk8terbois, Part II

Posted on August 23, 2013 by gretchenwing

In the end, we all agreed the skaters were pretty cool.

Yes, my friend Ron, who owns the 40-acre field where “Camp Skatelite” set up to house a possible thousand skaters and BMXers, said they woke him up at midnight with loud music. But he wasn’t bothered by it. “They were just having fun,” he told me.

And in our little village, this is what we were treated to:

(all photos courtesy Anne Whirledge-Karp)

DANG.

He actually landed this.

I didn’t get to see much–I had to work. BUT, when all the professional skaters and BMXers and all the amateur-but-still-amazing boys (yup, all boys! come on, gals, where were ya?) took off on Sunday, this is what the Skatelite company left behind as a permanent gift for our island kids:

Pretty sweet, huh?

2-5,000 people? More like a thousand. No one got seriously hurt. All-night partying? Yeah,the Seniors whose housing abuts the half-pipe venue lost some hours of sleep most likely, but they’ll recover. Some local businesses did well–the soda fountain–and some, like my bakery, not so much. (This crowd seemed to prefer tacos to croissants, although they did snarf up all the peanut butter cookies. Go figure.) But most Lopezians I talked to seemed to enjoy the exposure to this chunk of mainland culture.

Any lessons learned here? Only the obvious ones: people are people. Don’t sweat the small stuff. It takes all kinds.
Sometimes cliches are cliches for a reason.

Which brings me to my question: what super-obvious but super-true cliche do you find rolling off your tongue on a regular basis? I love knowing what good ol’ phrases sustain people, so let me hear.

Invasion of the Sk8terbois

Posted on August 17, 2013 by gretchenwing

My lil’ island is about to have its population doubled this weekend, and the newcomers are going to halve our average age and double our clothing-per-capita yardage. They’re skaters.

First of all, you can’t even see the rocky coastline from the skatepark…well, maybe the guy doing the 360 can. (courtesy bmx.transworld.net)

More specifically, they are professional skateboarders and BMXers, and an estimated 2,000 of their fans, coming tomorrow to “The Retreat at Lopez Island.” You know what? I’ll let the Skatelite Retreat website tell you:

More than 15 of the world’s top skate and BMX athletes will escape the mainland on August 17 and converge on Lopez Island in Washington State’s San Juan Islands to relax after the X Games, session on their own terms and hang with the locals. It’s called The Retreat presented by Skatelite®, the world’s premier manufacturer of skate ramp surface materials made in good ol’ Tacoma, USA. The Retreat is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to skate, ride and party with the best when they’re off the clock in one of North America’s most spectacular and relaxed landscapes.

As a former English teacher, I can’t help zeroing in on some of those verbs: “converge on?” “Hang with?” “Party?”

Ummm…has anyone told these folks that Lopez has only one restaurant & bar that’s open till midnight? Or that most of us consider a good, brisk walk with our dog to be a full day’s excitement?

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I should have started with the good news. That is the fact that the owner of Skatelite and Richlite, a wonderful man from my wonderful former town of Tacoma (no, I am NOT being ironic, thank you very much, I LOVE Tacoma), is donating an entire, brand-new skate park to Lopez Island. He’s been coming here every summer since he was a child, and he wanted to give something to our community. Skateparks are what he does, so skateparks are what he gives. It will be wonderful for Lopez kids to have something to do here during their free time other than marvel at the scenery. (Did I say wonderful enough?)

I love philanthropy. I thank our donor. His heart is in the right place.

But, speaking as one of the “locals” with whom the skaters and their entourages are coming to “hang with,” I’m a little nervous.

That top area, above the building? That's where the park's going. (courtesy bmxworld.net)

That top area, above the building? That’s where the park’s going. (courtesy bmx.transworld.net)

Here’s the pitch, again from the Skatelite Retreat website, about the tent city they’re setting up for all the skateboard fans:

Nothing beats camping in the San Juan Islands unless you’re camping at Camp Skatelite. We have reserved a 10 acre field of dreams for tent campers to create their own festive environment beyond the confines of The Retreat activities. Make a reservation. Bring all of your gear and get ready to party or sleep soundly in your own corner of the makeshift campsite. Bring your own food, beverages and entertainment for the off hours. Groceries are available on the island if you don’t want to pack it all in. Enjoy the luxuries of port-a-potties, water, and some food options on site coordinated by Skatelite. And don’t be surprised if one of your favorite pros shows up to hang out.

Interestingly, Camp Skatelite’s “field of dreams” surrounds the 100 year-old farmhouse where Lopez’s small community of Quakers meets every Sunday morning for an hour of silence. I’ll be curious to see what kind of music might be competing with our silence this weekend, or if the skater-fans’ “off-hours entertainment” has ’em still snoozing at 10 a.m.

I’m not a skater-hater. I have respect for any athlete, and I’m a pretty rabid sports fan myself, so I get that too. I just have my fingers crossed that this mainland, teen-marketing-driven approach doesn’t spill over in any damaging way. If we all lose a little sleep due to music this weekend, we’ll live. If the local restaurants, including my bakery, end up losing money because the skater-fans all bring their own food–oh well.

But if I see someone BMXing out on the rocks where endangered orchids grow, look out. Someone’s getting a good talking to.

I’ll get back to y’all on how this all works out. But meanwhile, any predictions? Should I just lighten up? Will a splendid time be had by all? After this weekend, do you think I might be struck with the desire to learn to skateboard?

OMG We’re Marooned!!! Oh yeah–We Live on an Island.

Posted on May 29, 2013 by gretchenwing

Did you see us on the news last week? When the Interstate 5 Bridge got KO’d by an oversize load and went crashing down into the Skagit River? Thanks be to all the gods, no one was seriously hurt, so now we’re left to enjoy our shock and awe…and traffic jams.

SO amazing no one got badly hurt!!

And emails from friends and family around the country who are worried about us.

My dad sent me one with the heading, “Marooned?” That was it–no text. At first all that attention fed my dramatic soul. “Why yes, yes we are Marooned. Cut off. We too are victims of something terrible happening, we deserve our rare place in the national spotlight!”

Then I remembered. I live on an island. I don’t have to drive Interstate Five. And if I did, I know shortcuts through the farmland that won’t take me anywhere near the fallen bridge and all its backed-up, detoured traffic.

Bridges? We don’t need no stinkin’ bridges!

So I’m saving my sympathy for those poor souls caught in that traffic. Especially truckers who don’t have a choice, and all those poor Memorial Day Weekend travellers.

Me–I ain’t goin’ nowhwere, ’cause I don’t have to. And I’ll happily cede the spotlight to some region who needs it, like poor old Oklahoma.

What about you? Do you sometimes fall victim to the drama of feeling like a victim, even when you aren’t? Where do you think that impulse comes from? Let me hear your thoughts. OR…Share your WORST TRAFFIC DETOUR STORY EVER.