A time to pause

cool autumn

YK and the burning bush

giant promegranates

carpet leaves

After sampling the four seasons, I decided autumn is my favourite season of the year.  Spring is  beautiful and showy with a profusion of flowers.  But their pollens in the air give allergy sufferers something to really sneeze about.   Summer is for catching up on all the fun in the sun.  But the heat can be so bad, I can be forgiven for thinking that it caught up on me from Singapore.  Winter for ‘tropicanas’ like us is suffering – cold hands, cold feet, and for YK cold all the time.

What do I like about autumn?

Firstly the ‘make hay while the sun shines’ frenzy of summer activities winds down.    The stifling heat of summer gives way to a mild chill, like airconditioning only much better because it is natural – fresh and crisp.  Daylight gets shorter, signaling all ’rushsians’, to slow down for our souls to catch up with our bodies.

This is one time where everyone’s yard look alike, a colourful palette of bronze and gold against the conifers and evergreens.  The leaves take centre stage vying for attention.   Millions of leaves changing colours on their own accord, forming a splendid panorama everywhere one looks.    Only God, the Master Gardener and Artist can put up such an impressive and awe inspiring display year after year.  Soon the show will end. Slow down the clock, even briefly, enjoy it while it lasts.  Time flies, another month, another season will be gone.  Soon it’s time to clear the leaves and put the garden to rest for winter.

This is time for Thanksgiving.  A time  to pause and reflect on God’s goodness and grace – his providence, presence, provision, protection, promises and power.  Autumn is also harvest time, for pears pumpkins, persimmons, promegranates, potatoes, and a whole lot more.    This is a land so blessed by God, a land of fruitfulness and abundance, a land flowing with milk and honey, with more than enough to go around.   Yet at the same time, beggars on the highways and byways are also heart-wrenching and constant reminders that this is also a land that is groaning with countless who are  homeless, hungry and hopeless.  When we are gathered around our table with our loved ones how could we express our thanks to God for our food without also praying and hoping that those without food will somehow be nourished.

Don't drop that pumpkin!

A time to plant

The  Mid Autumn Festival was always to me about mooncakes and lanterns.   This year it dawned on me that it actually meant what it said - that it marks the middle of autumn.    When we returned to Seattle, the trees were dressed in their pretty autumn colours of  red, yellow and gold.   Only God in his wisdom and power can so effortlessly change the scenery with the seasons.  The temperature had also dipped and it was much cooler than when we had left at the end of summer.    We were sleeping with airconditioning in Singapore on one night and 24 hours later, here we were in another place needing heating instead.    Not surprising since Singapore is 1 degree north and here we are 47 degree north of the equator.

After 6 weeks what greeted us at our front yard were plants and weeds  spilling crazily out of the flower bed.  Even our sad looking ‘blonde’ lawn (no thanks to this year’s record hot and dry summer)  had miraculously turned green with overgrown grass and dandelions.    God had sent rain to do its work while we were away.  I  imagine this place would make the perfect setting for Sleeping Beauty Castle.   A whole jungle  could grow over this entire place  in far less than a hundred years.   And no spell needed from the wicked witch either.  Blackberry shoots  are sneaking out of the ground faster than YK in all diligence can clear them.  Our contractor when renovating our place had removed a long thorny piece of dried  blackberry cane  from  above our ceiling.  Still a puzzle how it grew into the house but we don’t need another to get in to find out.

The wonder of nature is that it seems to have an indomitable life of its own.  The combination of seeds, soil, rain and sunshine inevitably  unleash the miracle of  life.  I am learning this as a novice gardener tentatively flexing my green fingers.

Green leafy vegetables  are only available at the Asian store so I thought why not plant our own?   Two weeeks before we left for Singapore, I planted a short row of Chinese greens.  The instructions  were simple enough.   Clear the ground, scatter the seeds, cover with soil and water liberally.  It took faith to believe that  if I did my part, they would grow and become edible vegetables.  I was excited when tiny  leaves emerged in about a week’s time.

baby veg grown in faith

With some help from Valerie who kept them watered while we were away, they grew furiously.   We were greeted by a bumper harvest on our return - giant stalks of vegetables,  american size of course.  That’s the other reason I wanted to plant my own veggies.   Only XXL ones are available at the store.  I prefer them to come in S size (like those in Singapore) instead of these XXL ones.    Just the leaf (minus the stalk) measures a whopping 12″ (about 30 cm)!  They were so enormous, each time we could only consume one or at most 2 stalks.

giant veg

veg dwarfing the flowers!

Next time I hope to be around to harvest them when they are still petite.   And I shall not plant so many because we can’t seem to finish eating them.    A packet of seeds cost less than $2 and there are still lots left. Growing our own veggies is cheap but nothing beats the convenience of just going into the garden to pick what is needed.  They are also free from pesticides and chemical fertilizers.  Of course  there are worms and bugs,  but even after sharing with them, there are still lots to spare.    It has been a good learning experience but no more planting till winter is over.

Of Corns and Croissants

on your consciene

 

 

 

Even on holidays Victor had to clock in his hours of practice.  This is the lot of all musicians and sportsmen but it made it hard for us take long trips.  Val, just back from Canada suggested taking a scenic drive on the Chuckanut route.  It is about an hour’s drive north, not too far away.  Enroute, we could take a stop at Walmart for Victor to buy more stuff.  He does not have a car in Baltimore so coming home gave him an excuse to shop and stock up on whatever is needed.  Living in USA without a car is inconvenient to say the least.  Walmart  is not popular around where we live but there are several on the way once we head north.

To get to the Chuckanut scenic route, we droved past vast stretches of farmland.  More land than we would ever get to see in Singapore.  Earlier in spring we had driven all the way out here to admire beautiful  daffodils and tulips in bloom.  Now these farmlands are full of corn in different stages of growth.  The climb up the scenic route was not too steep.  It was a leisurely drive on a fine weekday afternoon.  We were not trying hard to be tourists this time, just a family,  spending time together.  We took only one stop to take in the view.  The trail did not lead us to the water edge but there was a sign that says that crab catching was permitted  – a limit of 5 to each person.  We had not come equipped for crab catching - neither the paraphernalia nor the know how.  What a pity.  The crabs in this waters are big and sweet, comparable to the Sri Lankan crabs, but with softer shells.   This is a good place for seafood.  We passed an oyster bar driving uphill too.  One wonders who would travel all the way up these hills just to eat oysters but I was told that it was quite a popular eating joint.  There were oyster farms around the area but we had no plans to visit one.  We did not even push ourselves to complete the scenic route before turning back.

Making our way home, we did make a stop to pick up freshly harvested corn.  These corn cobs are american size, not like the puny ones we import into Singapore.  The farmer had just left his corn cobs in a trailer – a NMO (no man operation).  Take the corn cobs you want and deposit the money into the box.  There was a long-winded sign to ward off any would be corn thieves.   Not high tech or sophisticated but it probably served its purpose well enough.   We ate the corn for dinner and they proved to be the best  we had ever eaten, so sweet and juicy.  At the supermart, they would have cost 40 or 50 ct apeice on offer.   At 20 ct apiece, it was a steal!

For Victor’s birthday which was just before he flew back for his new school year, we had planned for high tea at Queen Mary’s near the University district.  High tea at Vancouver or Victoria is more readily available because of their British past.   Just across this side of the border it had took me a while to find a place that offered high tea.  But not surprisingly Victor had a different craving when his special day arrived.  He wanted to eat croissant in West Seattle instead.   The croissants in this bakery are made on the spot and are big, buttery and flaky.  Not the usual birthday celebration but it was what the birthday boy ordered.   As we celebrated his birthday we were reminded of how we had to leave him in Baltimore last year all alone in a new city on his 21st birthday.  With God’s help and by his grace, he had survived his first year in college and did well.  For that we offer God our praise and gratitude. 

Victor flew back with two suitcases, bulging with goodies, including his favorite oatmeal carmelita that Val had baked for him.   His departure also signaled that summer is coming to a close.  Thousands of miles keep us apart but I appreciate that Victor is able to come home more frequently because we are living on the same continent.  Whether he is back for a  week or a  month it was always too short, always time that passed too quickly.

Journey or Destination?

Our new place has a direct bus to downtown and the bus stop is just a few minutes’ walk away.  Victor and I decided to spend some ‘quality time’ together, leaving YK home to his DIY tasks.   Off peak bus fare is  $1.75, exact change required.   No link cards here.   But any bus rides within downtown are free.  We got off at the Chinatown stop and wandered around tourist-like.  Nothing much compared to Chinatown back home or elsewhere.   The most interesting shop of the day was this one without any signs and not opened but had these cute rubber chickens hanging upside down in their huge display windows.   Hainanese Chicken Rice anyone?   We also stumbled on a Food Bank where a big crowd was helping themselves to the free bread and vegetables.   With all these people milling outside we mistook it for a popular oriental grocery store.    Deciding where to eat lunch was complicated.  Could restaurants without lines waiting to get in be any good?  Hah, a long line had formed after we spent half an hour checking  out other eating places.   That, and our hungry stomachs decided this was it.   The dim sum here came in american sizes, 4 pieces to a basket.   Bad idea.  Dim sum should be small and dainty, 3 to a basket, the better to try a wider variety.

With Valerie  away in Canada for a week, the Friday that Victor did not have to practise on his organ, we decided to go somewhere.     He would decide where when he was up.  But first homemade waffles for breakfast per his request, chocolate chip waffles for the men and blueberry waffles for me.  After packing a sandwich lunch,  it was 11am when we left the house.  Victor had picked the Olympics National Park.  It was a good three hours away that was further extended by another hour when we stopped for a break at Silverdale for retail therapy.

Hurricane Ridge, we were back again and this time we made it to the summit.  It was quite a cloudy day so we could not see very far.  At more than 5000 feet  it was a dreamy feeling walking above the clouds.  YK thought the view was like a chinese painting.  There were rows and rows of mountain peaks that were green with coniferous forests.  The sun was hot but the air was cold, confusing the body about whether a jacket was needed or not.  By the time we finished our hike, it was after 4pm.  We gave up on Neah Bay, our next stop, as it was further than we thought.  A wrong turn brought us into Port Angeles instead.   A short walk around the waterfront and we were headed for dinner at the casino in Bly.   Prime ribs buffet for $16 each.   The waitress gave YK and I a senior discount without our asking – $14 each.  We did not know whether to be amused or to be amazed.  Smart waitress, no one would complain about being charged less.   Another break at Silverdale before we drive home.  Target closed at 10pm -  allowing us an hour of shopping.

We ended spending more time in the car than sightseeing but it was a good time to catch up with Victor.   All that time to get to and fro the Park and all we saw was Hurricane Ridge.   YK and I liked everything planned ahead but Victor like everything free and easy, lived in the moment.     Life, is it about about the journey or the destination?

On the heights

Summer has been in full swing but we were too busy fixing up our place to take advantage of it.   With Victor home after summer school, it was time for the whole family to take a rest and also catch up.   A day trip to Mt Rainier is what we prescribed.

Mt Rainier  can be spotted in the far distance on those days when the weather is good and the air is clear.  On some days it even takes on a lovely pink hue.   Although higher than Mt Fuji, it is not as shapely nor as well known outside of USA.  However it is an icon as well as landmark in this place.  Like Mt Fuji it is an active volcano and it is the highest volcanic peak in the Cascades.

Mt Rainier National Park is about 2 hours drive away.  Leaving at 7.30 am, we made good time and arrived at our first stop, Paradise.    When you see the lush meadows  carpeted in wildflowers you will understand why it is so called.  It was so much like a scene out of the Sound of Music that YK broke out singing, “the hills are alive with the sound of music..’      We picked a short trail for a hike to take in the view of the mountains and the flowers.  The deers along the trail were so accustomed to humans trespassing their grounds,  they did not bat an eyelid when our paths crossed.  Even when we got close for a snapshot of a fawn, mother deer was not bothered.   The other interesting thing we spotted on the trail was this big piece of rock that had been hollowed by the elements.  Val was still supple enough to fit into the hollow.   Suddenly inspired, YK proclaimed: Rock of Ages, cleft for me!    Our souls were wonderfully restored by God’s beautiful creation.  The trail was not too demanding but we soon got hungry from the exertion.

Our next destination was Sunrise and we intended to find a picnic area along the way for lunch.  But our stomachs could not wait so we stopped at the first scenic spot along the way.  Our car transformed into a small restaurant with a big view:  Reflection Lake, with Mt Rainier as a backdrop.  Cold noodles went well with the splendid scenery.

Sunrise is 6400 ft in elevation and is the highest point in the park accessible by car.  Mt Rainier felt close enough to touch but we were not even at half  her elevation.   Unlike Paradise,  Sunrise receives much less moisture than Paradise and the difference is clearly reflected in its dry terrain.  We picked the shortest trail in the subalpine meadows but it still proved challenging for me.  Some parts of the trail was steep and we kicked up clouds of dust with every step.  The wildflowers here have to be very tough to survive the strong winds, harsh sun and severe cold.   Not many trees grow in this hostile environment and the mountain slopes were brown and not as luxuriant as those in Paradise.   After the hot, tiring  hike, I was craving afternoon tea – scones and ice-cream would be delightful to round off our outing.  At the Sunrise Day Lodge’s cafeteria the menu proved disappointing – hamburgers, hotdogs, chilli.  Disappointing American fare but not afternoon tea.

Then it was the long descent down the winding slopes to get home.  During the  day, Valerie, Victor and YK took turns at the wheel.  Since the children were tiny tots, we had visited countless National Parks in and out of USA but they had been the passengers.   Now they are not only old enough to plan this trip but competent enough to negotiate the narrow mountain roads and hairpin bends of this mountain range.   They are growing up but I am growing older.  My hips (already for so long walking by God’s grace) protested a lot more on the uphill stretches of our hikes.  And already for my sake we had hiked the easier trails.  The heart is willing and the flesh weak but the spirit, with God’s help had to be strong to pick up the slack.    But I thank God for each hike I completed with the family.  There had been many such hikes since we moved here because the place is not at all flat.  Each hike might be a slow struggle but also more than a physical achievement.  For each challenging climb, Hab 3: 19 is my mainstay.  It carries me where on my own strength I can’t go.  Each time it takes on new meaning and relevance:

The Sovereign Lord is my strength;

He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

He enables me to go on the heights.

Time is on my side

cuckoo clock keeping time in our home

I was reading a compilation of  interviews  done with people who were terminally ill.  In the midst of all the talk about dying was an article : “time is on my side”.    

The authors made me sit up  with their mathemtics .  The maths was simple enough but an exercise few of us would have attempted on our own.    Now that I know the maths, I hear the clock tick louder than before.  Gosh did I let that many thousand seconds slip through my fingers each day?  Well and good that time is on my side, but now that I am older, time is also quickly running out.    Thank God over on the other side of eternity, time shall be no more.  No more maths needed either, for we shall live in endless days  (Rev 21:25 ‘for there will be no night there’).   

Here’s the article:

The Rolling Stones sang, “Time is on my side.”  Yes, it is but sometimes it doesnt seem that way.  We often say that we don’t have enough time to do the important things that bring the greatest joy to our lives.  We complain that we just don’t have enough time to get everything done today.  Yet in reality we all have the same amount of time in a day.  And we all have all the time there is.

Money is the biggest discriminator in society.  It separates people according to what they are able to acquire, control and spend. Time, however is the most powerful equalizer.  As we thought about time and life we came to the realization that, while dollars are the currency of the US economy, time is the currency of life.  Seconds, minutes, hours, days and years are the denominations of this currency.  We all have 3,600 seconds per hour, 86400 seconds per day, and a whopping 31,536,000 seconds per year (except for leap years when we get a bonus 86,400 seconds).  These are huge numbers.  If you really think about it, time is actually abundant.  And at the end of the day financially rich people dont have any more than those considered poor.  What none of us know and what will always remain one of the great mysteries of life, is how much time we have in the future.  With the exception of the day on which you die, you do know how much time you have for each day.

One critical difference between the nature of the currency of our economy/money, and the currency of life/time is that money can be saved and accumulated for use in the future.  Time cannot.  Speculation about what we could do if we “could put time in a bottle” makes for a great Jim Croce song, but we can’t put time in a bottle.  At the end of everyday, we have, in the currency of life, ’spent’ all 86400 seconds we received for that day.  Every single second is gone, used up, and vanished, and we cannot have it back.  While we say money has to be earned, time is a gift and that is further evidence that life is a gift.

From Life is a gift by Bob and Judy Fisher

A time to remember

daffodils

clemantis

roses

For a while we had been in suspense, anticipating the dreaded call.  Finally it came while I was in the back yard killing dandelions.   YK came out with the sad news that SK had passed on.  There in my yard, I bade her a quiet farewell:  rest in peace my friend. we’ll meet at Jesus’ feet.

Over the last few months, we had watched in helpless anguish as our friend was ravaged by a most vicious cancer.   I shall always remember that God called her home in the  summer that celebrities like Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett made their final exits .   Even as their deaths  got big time media coverage, they only served as poignant reminders that big shots and ordinary folks end life the same way -  the time comes when we all have to meet our Maker and Judge.

I don’t care much about MJ and FF but I want to take time to remember my friend.  Especially when I could not be at her funeral.    I popped the question to the man of few words about what he remembers of SK.  He gave a one word answer:  ’short’.   Short as a description.  A physical attribute about the vessel that used to contain her.  Going by outward appearance, she was always simply attired.  No fussy jewelry or accessories.  No cosmetics.  Strangely now that I recall, I seen her wearing only dresses before she was married.  After she was married, I had never seen her in a dress again.

For YK and I, our most enduring memory was of SK doing follow-up with what we called ‘the three girls.’     In my mind’s eyes, I still see SK meeting them in the library at the former New Bridge Road Chapel.  A behind- the- scene kind of person, that was how she served best.    She was the secret helper to her husband’s success as a CPU leader.  She was the one to call if you needed someone to pray for you – and many did call her.

We had been friends for ages.  We had shared teenage secrets.  We  had cried together over the boys who broke our hearts.   We got married around the same time.  With joy we had photographed our infant sons, born less than a month apart,  lying together side by side.   Mostly we were co-laborers in the Lord in the same die-for Jesus gang.

Somewhere in those hectic years of church building and child raising, we got much too busy to tend to our friendship.    But we knew the foundation was  there, just buried under the dust of time.  To my great delight, she took the initiative to reconnect after I moved to Seattle.  It was like old times again as we exchanged long mails.  SK was at her best when she  wrote.  She wrote well, but also in writing,  she would part the veil and share deeply from her heart.  It is one of life’s ironies that we became closer than before when we were far apart.    Life is so fragile and fleeting, so unpredictable.  We had presumed, now I realize so wrongly, that because we grew up together, we would grow old together.   I am grateful to God for that chance, even though so briefly, to clear away the dust and catch up.

SK was a homebody.  Even when we were teenagers, she did not hang out with us at slumber parties.  Instead if we want to spend time with her at all, we had to go to her place.  She disliked immensely those short stays in Glasgow and Sdyney.  Now she is where she is most at home, where she should be, where she wants to be.  For the rest of us, let’s love much and  live well until we join her.

A Song to remember my friend – I can only imagine what she is doing in heaven.

The Passage of Time

On my way out to throw the trash, I was surprised to see a single brave flower peeking out in the flower bed.

first flower of spring

It had appeared out of nowhere overnight, a small intense spot of color against the bare wintry landscape all around.   After a long dreary season of gazing at bare branches and gray skies, it was a joy to be greeted by this first harbinger of spring.    Its job done, it was gone the next day.  I still do not know the name of that flower but I cannot erase its image from my mind.    The lotus flower is often held up by the Chinese for its virtue of being able to stay pristine and pure, untainted by the mud from which it emerged.   Perhaps like the lotus flower, my little flower in the cold has a parable for me.

Since the sighting of that one unexpected flower at the tail end of winter, nature had been working overtime.   After the seemingly unending winter, spring comes with its consolation and extravagant reward of beauty, life and color. Forsythia, cherry blossoms, daffodils and tulips popped up as if by magic.

another early bloom

forsythia

daffodils

Showy rhodendrons with blooms as big as durians grew in everyone’s yards.   Pretty roses perfume the air.  Iris, poppies, azaleas, marigolds, dahlias, and zinnias and so much more whose names I do not know.  Many of them I am seeing for the first time in my life and they all fascinate me.  New ones are popping up everyday, everywhere.  I feel like I am in the Garden of Eden.  Adam has a distinct advantage over me.  All he needed to do was to

tulips

Victor home for spring break

name the flowers he saw whilst  I have been busy reading up just to learn their names.

We used to joke that in Singapore  there are only two seasons: hot or wet.  There is really nothing out there to say whether it is January or June.  The trees are always green.  The hibiscus and bougainvillas bloom all year round.  How often we take our Garden City for granted.  It is always wonderful to be welcomed by all that greenery when we returned.  In mid April when we left Seattle, the deciduous plants were still mostly naked.  Maybe if I looked hard enough I could spot tender tiny green shoots just growing out.  Imagine my surprise when I returned to the Emerald City in mid May.  What greeted me was a totally transformed place.  The trees and shrubs were full again, some not with leaves but with flowers.    They had put on new garments of great splendor in the one month I was absent.  I felt like I had returned to a new earth.  Wow what will it be like to be ushered into that new heaven and new earth that the bible talks about?

We have been here close to a year and got a taste of the four seasons.  I’m always in awe of what God is doing and saying to me through nature in each of the seasons.  I cannot imagine how anyone who live through the changing of the seasons can say there is no God.  The seasons remind me so clearly that God is in control and God is powerful.  He, who is outside of time, marks for us the passage of time through the seasons.  Our times are in His hands.  The seasons still speak to us as loudly as it did to to Noah of God’s promise that:

As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat,    summer and winter, day and night will never cease. (Gen 8:22)

Better by far

It has been two weeks since I returned from our one month stay in Singapore.  Straddling two continents not only caused jetlag but also mental disorientation and emotional distress.  Just when I got used to the right (or is it the left?) side of the car, it was time to switch.   In one home I recycled even the food scraps for compost, in my home on the opposite side of the world, I threw away everything.  When we left Seattle in mid April, the air was still nippy enough to need heaters and  fleece tops.   In sizzling  Singapore all I wished for was for the entire island to be fully air-conditioned.   The hardest part of all, whether  in Seattle or Singapore, is having to say goodbye.

Every now and then I have this same recurring dream in my sleep -  America had became Singapore’s nearest neighbour and only just a drive away.  As easy as driving to Malaysia.  Alas, I always awaken to the deepest disappointment.  God had not redrawn the atlas for my convenience and the two countries are still a world apart.  Even when fully awake, I continue to daydream.  For only one time zone and I do not have to calculate Singapore time when I am in Seattle, or Seattle time when I am in Singapore.  No more long flights in tight spaces.  Just a new body that can travel through space to anywhere I wish to go in the twinkling of an eye.  No more extreme cold or hot spots, and the temperature is aways comfortably nice everywhere on this earth.  Complex mental gymnastics  not required for simple everyday living.  No need to say trunk instead of  car boot, elevator instead of lift, restroom instead of toilet.  No need to worry about inches, feet, yard, miles, ounces, pounds, and fahrenheit.   We certainly can do with a whole new world

But I really should not be complaining.  In those days when jet travel and internet had not yet shrunk our world, those who moved far away from home could not  easily go back to visit.  Like my parents who left China for Singapore.   When they finally visited their beloved motherland, about 30 years had elapsed.  By then  the China they visited was no longer the China they remembered.  They were more than glad to return to Singapore, their dear homeland.

When Abraham and Sarah left kith and kin, home and hearth to make their home in the promised land, we expect the Bible to say they lived happily ever after.  Instead in the same breath and almost as an anti-climax,  it added that they  lived as strangers in a  foreign country (Heb 11:9).    America with all its messy problems is certainly no promised land but this is where we believe God wants us to be right now.  But I certainly can relate very well to the ’strangers in a foreign country’ part.  I am trying to learn what Abraham had mastered:  no matter where he lived on earth, he was always a stranger for  ’he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.’  (v10)  There was a song that I learned as a youth in church:  This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through. It is just the right song for me now .  I think it is also a good song for all of us heading to the place Jesus had gone ahead to prepare for us - a better place by far.  Pity we do not sing such songs in church anymore, much less teach it to our young people.

Spring Breaks

One evening at dinner, Valerie reminded us that our wedding anniversary was coming up.  We were so preoccupied with house hunting we had clean forgotten.  Not that we usually celebrated it.  YK for some strange reason cannot remember our wedding date.  Good thing it is not a barometer of how our marriage has been faring.   Most times in the past, we were too busy with one thing or another to celebrate.   YK is not romantic and I am not sentimental which conveniently makes for an amicable combination.

This year we decided to make effort to celebrate.  Why the change in behavior?    For one, we could not use the excuse that we could not find the time.   Also being married for more years than we have been single is surely an achievement worth celebrating.   Especially when tomorrow is not promised.  We have seen good marriages crumbling around us - due to heartbreaking breakups or tragic deaths.   If nothing else, it was a good excuse to get out of hibernation.  Time to welcome spring and say goodbye to winter.

So on a cold but sunny day,  I got a break from cooking and we went for a buffet lunch.  The spread was fantastic and the food was good.   We definitely did not eat our money’s worth.  Rather than overeat we willingly subsized those with american- size appetites.   Fine dining is good but I hankered for something else.

buffet

celebration

The weather was still too wet for traveling but after these months in Seattle, we had learned to ignore forecasts of rain showers.   Even if the place we were planning to visit was a super rainy place with a whopping annual rainfall of 130 inches.  Praying hard for good weather we set off on a  3-day getaway to the National Olympic Park, which at nearly 1 million acres, is many times bigger than Singapore.   It is a World Heritage Site and Biosphere Reserve.   A lot of reading and planning went into the short trip because we had more places of interest than time to visit.

First we had to decide whether to take the more direct route which is crossing Puget Sound by ferry and bringing our car with us , or to drive the whole long detour on land?  In the end my ‘chaffeur’  decided to take the 4-hour drive as it allowed us to see more of the Olympic Peninsula along the way.  Mountains and water dotted the picturesque landscape.  Every city or town was next to a river, an inlet, a bay, a lake or the ocean.

Our first tourist stop was Port Angeles where a visit to Hurricane Ridge was a must do.  At 5200 ft above sea level, it promised a panoramic view of the Olympic mountains, the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Vancouver Island.  The webcam at the visitor center gave the all clear view for the go ahead to the top but the ranger said we could only go up if we had snowchains.   So back to town we went.  After losing much precious time rushing through all 3 tire shops, we found probably the last set of snow chains in town.  Buying also a bucket of KFC,  we proceeded up the slopes, anticipating  a good picnic lunch with a magnificient view.  However not too far along, the fog started rolling in.  With visibility greatly reduced, navigating those curvy mountain roads made any scary roller coaster rides seemed tame in comparison.    The fog got thicker by the minute while we bravely inched up the mountains.   It felt like driving into one thick wall of impenetrable white clouds after another, with each new wall thicker than the one before.  Just eight miles away from the peak  we agreed that with this sudden change in weather, all we would see at the top was probably more fog.  It was better to make the descent  while we could still make it.  Being stranded on cloud nine was not my idea of fun.  By the time we reached a spot clear enough for us to make out our surroundings, it was already 3.30pm.   Cold KFC never tasted this good.  How often did we get to eat lunch with the clouds swirling around us?   Our mission was aborted but it was still quite an adventure.  Some day we’ll try to get to the top again.

lake crescent on the way to Fork

After the mountain top experience, YK sped all the way to Kalaloch Lodge because he wanted to be there in time for sunset.  He had booked a room at the lodge with a cliff-top view of the Pacific Ocean.   We could hear the waves thundering on the beach as we climbed down to the beach.  The gusty chilly ocean winds quickly stung my cheeks lobster red.   It was not easy to pick our way through the countless bleached tree trunks that littered the beach.  They had been washed down rivers swollen with melting snow.   YK described the scene as a valley of dry bones (as in Ezek 37).  It was an apt description.  Later we read that these bleached tree trunks are also called the bones of the forests.

It was too cold to stay out for long and we retreated to our warmly heated room with a view.  We had come a long way from our long- ago honeymoon trip to Lake Toba, Indonesia.  Lake Toba was all we could afford then and  already an extravagance in those days when every cent mattered.  But it was beautiful and unique in its own way.  This view of the ocean was special because it was the first time I got to sleep in a room right at the edge of the ocean.  Dinner consisted of hot cup noodles with our leftover KFC meal for starters.  The main meal was the full view of the rising tide in the twilight.

kalaloch beach entry

window framed picture view from room

fat raccoon outside our room

The next morning it felt like someone in the skies had forgotten to turn off the tap.    There was no TV or internet to check on the weather but one of the staff confirmed that it was going to be wet and wetter.  The restaurant was not opened for breakfast until after eight.  We were impatient for an early start but was forced to slow down.  Breakfast was 2 poached eggs with potato hash and smoked salmon.  When it arrived, YK said it looked like chai tow kway.   We polished off the eggs and salmon and left behind two mountains of potato.  Not our fault really.  How could anyone eat that much potatoes for breakfast.

Chai tow kway??

maybe but not potatoes.

kalaloch restaurant

After overeating, it was back to the beaches for some exercise.  After trudging down 2 muddy trails to 2 different beaches we gave up.   They were obstructed by more big piles of bleached tree trunks, now made slippery by the rain.  Tsunami warning signs with evacuation instructions were posted all over the beaches, in case of earthquakes .  An earthquake fault sits nearby on the ocean.

in the valley of dry bones

Enough of inaccessible beaches.   Next stop was the Hoh Rain Forests.  I was especially curious as to why there was a Hall of Moses in a temperate rain forest.  After another long drive up some more mountains, we finally arrived at our destination.  Thanks to my blurry eyes – it was Hall of Mosses, not Moses.

Arc of Mosses (Ark of Moses!!)

Where is Moses?

YK could not resist rubbing it in while we walked the trail:  why was Moses not present in the Hall of Mosses?    Clearly, he  forgot his reading glasses!    Temperate rain forests are very different from tropical ones.   Many of the trees are very old, gigantic and covered with thick mosses.   They would make good props for a Lord of the Ring movie.  IAll those mosses made the whole place looked very spooky.    I would not want to be in these forests at night although the elks would not agree.  They live in these forests and we spotted 2 of them.   God’s creation is always amazing.   He just needs to vary the altitude, latitude, and precipitation a little here or there, and nature would put on a completely different but always spectacular display.

LOTR: fire breathing dragon behind me

After Hoh Forests we decided to cut short our stay.  The rain had persisted and was likely to carry on to the next day.  It was finally getting the better of us.   We stopped at the small town of Fork to refuel the car.  The tiny visitor center was swamped with young girls who were there for the Twilight movie tour.  The vampire movie was made here and it put the once small sleepy town on the map.  Failing to get adequate information on the ferry ride back, we decided to drive all the way again.  I was craving for a steaming bowl of Vietnamese beef noodle soup, maybe in a bigger town along the way back.  By 2.30pm and still far from the next town, we decided it was time for fastfood.  We pulled off into a picnic area alongside Lake Crescent, a 10 mile long freshwater lake.  Out came our can of tuna, lettuce, mayo and bread and our sandwiches were ready.  The huge lake was shrouded in fog and there was no one else except a pair of hopeful ducks who came begging us for crumbs.  No feeding allowed, poor ducks, fine $1000.

After lunch it was full speed back to Seattle, with a shopping break at Silverdale on the Kitsap Peninsula,  to stretch our legs.  The rain fell in sheets near Tacoma and YK had a hard time driving.  We finally made it home at 8.30pm.  Home, out of the wet and cold, with a hot bowl of home-cooked noodle soup. is the best place to be.