Needing to open all the windows last night to make the room comfortable, we woke to a bit of a chilly morning. First order of business was to close the windows. But we did have a very restful night. Something about the beach air and a walk along the boardwalk contributed to restful sleep.

So, we continued to sleep well into the morning and set out almost at lunchtime for some breakfast. It was a short walk across the street to “Benson’s By the Beach” for a very satisfying country breakfast. My serving of bacon was so large I couldn’t even eat it all and had to ask for a doggie bag to bring it with me. It was way too good to leave on the plate.

Then we took a slow and leisurely drive the total length of the Long Beach Peninsula. While the weather was overcast, it was still lovely. I especially liked visiting Oysterville at the tip of the Peninsula. It is a tiny little community that just seems trapped in time. The church there was constructed in 1889 and is still being used to this day.  I had to take a little time and stop for the photographic opportunity. It’s a picture postcard kind of place located on the Willapa Bay side of the Peninsula. The only thing that would have made it nicer was a little sunshine.

We drove out to Leadbetter State Park, to the beach, past the place where my folks used to live and all the way down to Cape Disappointment and Ilwaco before turning back toward the main streets of Long Beach.

At this point, my Driver required a little rest, so it offered the perfect opportunity for me to explore the shops along the main drag in Long Beach. There are a few that are the same as 25 years ago, like “Marsh’s Free Museum” and “Dennis’ Supply and Hardware,” while others have certainly changed many times. Dennis’ is the most amazing store that carries almost everything in the world. It’s a joy and marvel just to walk through the store and see all manner of things that we never see in a city hardware store. Items such as shoes and clothing; canning and cooking supplies; every possible nut or bolt; screening; weed and feed; as well as toys and art supplies. It’s an excursion all its own to visit Dennis’.

Part of my job in walking the town was to scout out a place for some dinner. I had a few propositions for my Driver to make a decision. We ended up walking around the corner of our hotel to “The Long Beach Tavern” where my Driver had the best clam chowder he’s ever eaten. Enough said. My pizza was wonderful, too. Mission accomplished.

Not being able to totally divorce ourselves from the world, we made it back to our room in time for the CBS news. It’s far too chilly and misty tonight to walk the beach in the shorts and light jacket we packed when when we left Seattle on a predicted 95 degree day.

So, we are having a lazy beach day by the beach, reading and writing this evening. There isn’t a lovelier way in the world to spend a vacation evening.

Today is the day my dear Driver turns Medicare Age. Of course, we had to celebrate. Last week we planned for a little trip out of town just to mark the day.

Yesterday he had his first of three “knee shots,” and we had enough faith that it will work, we decided to test it by driving to the Pacific Ocean at Long Beach. It has been many years since we had been here and it was an exciting proposition.

We hastily packed small bags and threw them in the car, setting out for the road at 10:45. It was a little later than we had wanted, but no matter, we’re on vacation now. The weather was calling us to the beach as it was 84 degrees as we passed Tacoma. And, it would certainly get warmer.

Our first comfort stop came West of Olympia where we buzzed into a Barnes and Noble Store (a very nice one, actually) and also found ourselves in the check-out line with several titles. One of them was David McCollugh’s “The Pioneers” on audio. We promptly put it into the now ancient CD player in our little Dixie, and we continued on while learning more about the early history of our country and its expansion into the Ohio territory.

By the time we hit Montessanto, it was 91 degrees and my driver needed to rest his eyes for 20 or 30 minutes. I braved the heat and took a short walk around the tiny town. To my surprise, they had one of the most finely stocked Thriftway stores I’ve ever visited. There were more ethnic choices, and fresh baked assortments than we have in our neighborhood in the city. Plus, they had screamingly cool air-conditioning, which made me want to extend my visit.

Back on the road to the coast, one hour later we stopped in Raymond, a familiar stop from when we used to drive this route with our kids on the way to their grandparents. It was still the same, even 25 years later. Does Dairy Queen ever change?

One more hour, passed an extremely low tide on Willapa Bay, and we were checking into a funky motel in Long Beach. Amenities are scarce, but there is a bed and pillows, the most necessary items. We refreshed ourselves for a few minutes and set out again to meet a very unusual cousin. She was discovered by my dear driver during his ancestry research. What’s so interesting about her is, she is related by DNA to both my driver and me. How unusual is that?

She welcomed us to her little beach cabin and we sat for an hour just taking ancestry. When the time was right, we took her to the local Mexican restaurant, and we continued to talk. We found we had many more things in common than simply our shared DNA. Dinner was pleasant, and the conversation even more so.

Returning to our motel, with the air cooling down with the setting of the sun, we walked down to the boardwalk along the longest beach in the world: Long Beach. Needless to say, it was a lovely walk. Our sons called their father to wish him a happy birthday, and our celebration for today was complete.

A Birthday; a trip out of town for a change of scenery; meeting a new cousin related to BOTH of us, a Mexican dinner and a walk along the beach at sunset. What could be better? Now we can rejoice in the grace of being officially “old” together. Happy Birthday my dear driver, companion, lover, and friend. Happy Birthday.

The Yakima morning greeted us with light rain and gentle temps. We packed the car and set out looking for some canning supplies. For some reason, while driving through the countryside yesterday, we decided we should consider doing some canning again this summer. I had given all my canning equipment away when we moved to D.C. thinking I would never use it again. (At that time it had probably been about 20 years since I had used it . . . easy to think I wouldn’t use it again.) But, know it seemed like the most natural thing to do with our summer crops that are growing in our garden.

The exploration for canning supplies took us to three different establishments before we found an old-style canner like the one I had given away. I had thought a rural community would have these things; apparently they are not as easily found as I had thought.

With our new found canner and several boxes of jars, we pointed the car north and west toward home. The rain poured and made driving difficult for about an hour. Never before have we encountered rain while driving from Yakima to Snoqualmie. The hillsides that are so familiarly brown and arid were even a little green with young growth! The clouds made shapes and moved across the wide open skies dramatically. It continued to rain in the mountains (as it so often does) and we stayed alert by finishing our listening to Barack Obama’s book, which we enjoyed immensely.

A stop at North Bend allowed for a comfort stop and we went on to also stop in Issaquah where we met our son for a few minutes after his work day.

To wait out the commuter traffic at the end of the day, we found a pizza restaurant that fit the bill nicely. By this time we were quite hungry and Tutta Bella’s filled us with hot and savory flavors atop a chewy crust that could not have been more perfect.

The final miles flew away behind us and we were once again home: that comfortable and familiar place that is even now more welcoming and more comfortable for having left it for a few days and nights. What words are there to describe that feeling which allows us to relish and appreciate something more simply because we have been far from it for a time? Pick whatever name you like, but I will call it grace.

14 May 2019

We awoke with the brightening clouds and spitting rain. But, no matter. We were excited for the next item on our agenda for this spring outing- a visit to McNary Air Field in Salem, OR. Here there is a foundation of interested folks who are restoring a 75 year old B-17 aircraft. After World War II, when bombers were no longer needed, the Army scrapped most of them. But there were some planes that escaped the destruction. This particular plane was purchased by a man who brought it to Oregon to sit on top of his gas station where it sat for several decades. (See The Lacey Lady) Unfortunately over the years, parts and pieces went missing, and the pigeons found it a most agreeable home. So, during that time there was a lot of deterioration. Four years ago the plane was removed from the top of the gas station and moved to McNary Field where there is a dedicated group putting all the puzzle pieces back together, hoping that one day the plane may be air worthy again.

The adjacent museum was small, but nicely arranged with interesting articles relating to the planes and the 8th Air Corps. The plane lay about the hangar in barely recognizable pieces. But there was lots of energy and enthusiasm around the project and faith that one day she would actually return to the air. I took lots of pictures and realized in the middle of my tour that I was having technical difficulties and I was not getting any pictures. It’s just for situations like this that I carry two (or more) cameras. Unfortunately, the pictures I did take I can’t download until we return home, so my description of the aluminium obstacle course strewn across the hangar floor will have to suffice for now. I did, however, see The Lacey Lady in her “disassembled” glory during her transformation back to life.

By noon we were back in Portland to visit with dear friends who lived close when both our families were deeply engrossed in the day to day drama of kids growing up. It is always a joy to reunite with these special friends. Somehow all the time that has passed since we last met melts away like ice in a forgotten drink on a hot summer day and we can pick up our friendship right where we left it. Even after such a length of time, our friendship is as fresh and vibrant as it was when we were living close and seeing each other every day.

We got a tour of their new condo, where they have successfully downsized, and are enjoying life in a lovely part of NE Portland. We had lunch at a sweet little cafe in their new neighborhood and then made plans to meet them later that evening at their new cabin out near the foothills of Mount Hood.

They served us a delicious dinner which was absolutely shared eucharist; and we talked, told storied, reconnected, laughed and joked into the evening. Their cabin is a grace-filled, quiet retreat from the hustle and bustel of city life. We were renewed and refreshed by our longstanding friendship as well as by the beauty and serenity of the place.

15 May 2019

I dreamed through the night of seeing eagles nesting near the water and my dad asking if I had seen the chicks in the nest. The dream was very clear and vivid. When I awoke, I was greeted by a brilliant blue jay hopping and flitting right outside our bedroom window!

Breakfast was another delightful eucharist and we carried on our discussions and stories from the night before. What a grace it is to have friends who accept you and whom you can talk with about so many interesting topics.

As we finished the breakfast dishes our friends invited us to walk with them down to the the boardwalk they had made on their property that crosses a small stream. Even though the day was overcast and threatening rain, the walk was lovely and the stream a beautiful sight. I simply love the sounds of a babbling brook. It sounds to me like Mother Nature laughing and inviting us to share in her joy. That certainly wasn’t difficult.

Our friends shared the stories of clearing the property and planting trees, as well as how they made some of their decisions with the space, the grading, the materials and all the hard work involved in making their dream become a reality. We rejoice with them in the beauty and peace they have brought to this special place. And we are so grateful for their gracious hospitality as they shared the beauty of this place with us.

As the clock reached noon, we left our friends with hugs of love and gratitude and made our way to Madras, OR where the Erickson Foundation also houses a B-17 in the process of being repainted and restored.

The drive to Madras took us south through the Mount Hood forest and the rises and falls of mountain roads. At one point we passed 4161 feet of elevation and could still see snow along the roadside.

Madras airfield was not difficult to find and as we entered the museum I never even had to inquire if the B-17 I was in search of was located on this site. There she sat – dissected – but entirely recognizable as men and women worked diligently around her.  The woman who took our entry fee was so excited that I was excited and she struck up a lively conversation about the plane and what a thrill it was for her to work there every day. I told her I had seen 27 of the remaining planes and seeing Ye Old Pub was the only reason we came all the way from Seattle. Her disbelief was visible. She questioned me and offered, “Oh, if I could, I would give you a piece of the plane. Wouldn’t you just love that?” Well . . . indeed I would, but I also knew that was a near impossibility. I laughed and started to walk into the museum to inspect the plane more closely. She disappeared and then reappeared as I reached the nose of the plane. “Here!” She offered. “It’s a nut from the plane. Just think, a nut from 1944 that’s been in this plane all these years!” She handed me a greasy nut just smaller than a dime. “Oh, maybe I should wipe the grease off,” she exclaimed. “No, please don’t,” I said. “It’s part of the authenticity. Leave it just as it is.” I thanked her multiple times and she was overjoyed to think she has given me something I would cherish that came from this plane. The men and women working on the plane all stopped to smile and wave before going back to their work. It was pretty funny, really. But now I own an authentic piece of a B-17plane. A single nut. For a B-17 nut. What could be more appropriate?

As we left I thanked her again and my driver wanted to have her recommendation for where to stop for an early dinner. Without hesitation, she suggested we go to Rio’s Mexican. Providing, of course, we liked Mexican food. Since we certainly do, we made our way to Rio’s and had an excellent dinner. It was a small place with only about eight tables, and one man working the door, the cash register, the tables and the kitchen! He seemed to have no trouble doing it all. And, it truly was excellent.

Nourished for the rest of the drive, we travelled on across the great Columbia River to Yakima for the night. Along the way we listened to “Dreams From My Father” read by the author, Barack Obama. It’s a lovely, lyrical book with lots of things to think about: family, responsibility, relationships, expectations, as well as many other topics. We’ve really enjoyed it.

We stopped at 6:00 for a comfort stop in Moro, OR and quickly made a reservation for a room in Yakima. Back on the road as the light began to wane and we made it through the hills and vales of northern Oregon and southern Washington before stopping in Yakima exactly at 8:00 p.m.

The desk clerk was not prepared for our arrival, but quickly found us on the computer. He told us we got the last room available for the night and he had to turn away a man who was standing at the counter when our computer reservation came through.

While I felt sorry for the gentleman who had to look elsewhere for a room, how could that be anything but grace for us ? We had a lovely visit with friends; enjoyed their mountain retreat; got to see another B-17; receive a nut from the overhaul of the plane; enjoy terrific Mexican food; as well as the beautiful sights of the landscape as we traveled; and get the very last room available. It all sounds like grace to me.

What could be lovelier than a spring outing?

After so many months of being housebound due to illness and recovery, the thought of an out of town adventure almost had us giddy. The weather was perfect, the plans made, and the escape put into action. We left Seattle about 10:00 a.m. after a coffee stop and a quick car wash. Who wants to be seen in a dirty car while exploring the countryside? Not us!

We pointed ourselves south and set out. First stop: Tacoma and the neighborhood where we lived 42 years ago when we first moved to the Northwest. We had not been back to the old area for several decades. While the ravages of time certainly had made its mark, the old familiar landmarks were still there, as was our little duplex we rented for three years at $175 a month. Yes, it really was 42 years ago!

We drove on until we needed a lunch break and stopped along the freeway at a favorite spot we have frequented many times over the years. The Country Cousin in Chehalis did not disappoint. Revived and a little rested we journeyed on.

By 4:00 p.m. we had come to our first destination, Happy Valley, OR. We stopped at a shopping center to spend some time until we had to be at the next place. I bought a pair of shoes and slowly walked the Hobby Lobby to see what different items Oregon might have to offer the avid crafter.

At 6:00 we made our way across the freeway to the home of a third cousin my driver had found on Ancestry. I remember as a little girl meeting this cousin’s grandmother when we lived in Germany, but I couldn’t remember if I had ever met this cousin. She and her husband were delightful and welcomed us to their home with warm hugs. We acquainted ourselves and shared family stories while enjoying take out Thai food for dinner.

How amazing it was to feel so familiar and comfortable with these people simply because we shared the same ancestors, even though that was several generations back. There is something in the DNA; something in the heritage; something in the shared culture that immediately makes “family” of us even though we had never met before. Pictures were shared; family trees examined; and new information exchanged. We learned that this cousin’s grandmother, the woman whom I remember meeting when I was a little girl, received the “Mother’s Cross” from the Nazi party. My cousin has the papers to prove it, although she does not know what happened to the cross itself. What a stunning tidbit of family history. Truly stunning. They were Germans, living in Germany, and any mother who had a certain number of children was honored for her contribution to society and the future of Germany.

We left their home with hugs and gratitude for this grace-filled time that allowed us to connect and call each other family even after all these years.

A few more miles down the road and we stopped for the night at a funky motel in Salem. All the better to be close to the next attraction on the agenda for tomorrow.

December 20, 2018

And, then we went home. We did make it, (yesterday) safe and sound, back to the coldest of cold Northwest winters. But, first we had to travel, yet again, to get there – or here.

Because of my travel anxiety, I made my driver plan for an extra early exit from our condo in order to get to the airport with a three hour window. I couldn’t imagine what the crowds would be like, and every news program was reporting “the busiest travel time of year.”

So, we left the Royal Sea Cliff at 7:30; stopped to fill the car with gas at the Costco gas station (which opened at 4:30 a.m.); returned the rental car to Hertz; grabbed their shuttle to the airport; and arrived before there were any clerks at the Alaska ticket windows. We had printed our boarding passes and baggage tags, but we needed the nifty little plastic pouches to put the printed baggage tags into. There were none to be seen anywhere. And, there were no lines. There were no clerks! We were the only people there. We had to ask a cleaning guy if he knew where we could get an Alaska tag for our luggage. He kindly informed us the counter people would be out in a minute. They were having their morning meeting. (Or was it just their morning coffee? I wondered.) But, eventually, someone did come out and after trying three different keys in three different cupboards, found some baggage tag pouches for us.

We folded our printed pages and affixed them in the pouches and to our bags and went to the next check point – the agriculture check point. We had to send all our checked baggage through the agriculture screening before it could be checked with the airlines. Thankfully, there was no line and we walked right up to the conveyor belt and dumped our luggage on.

Then we wound around to find a TSA line, which at that hour was, thankfully, minimal. We had to remove our shoes, and cameras, laptops, tablets, game systems, and any snacks and put them in buckets to go through screening. Since I had all the tech equipment, I carefully took off my shoes first this time, before dealing with the cameras. They all happily took their conveyor ride through the x ray and waited on the other side for us.

Meanwhile, we were sent through a full body scanner. Stand here; face this direction; feet here, raise your hands over your head . . . “Ok, step, over here please.” There was another set of little printed feet where I waited, not knowing what would be next. The TSA agent came around and pulled up my left sleeve. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “It’s because you have two on.” And, yes, indeed, I did “have two on” as I wear a regular watch and a fit bit. When she saw my watch she exclaimed, “Oh, that’s pretty neat. Where did you get that? Online?” Yes, I replied, online. She liked it very much and wondered if they had it in men’s sizes because she thought her husband would like a watch like that. “This is a man’s watch,” I informed her. She waved me on. A moment later, as I was packing up my cameras after their ride through screening, she came back and took my arm again, pulling my wrist away from its packing chore. “What’s the name on that watch? I really want to get one for my husband.”

I can only imagine that little scenario took place because there was no one else in line . . . I hope her husband gets a new watch for Christmas. If she ordered it by today it might have time for delivery before the 25th.

Heaving a sigh of relief that we were through security without mishap, we found our gate (not hard to do as there were only 10 gates in the whole airport) and found a seat to camp out and pass the time until boarding at noon.

In the open air of the concourse of the airport there were men playing and singing while women danced hula dances. It was very mesmerizing – and their dancing and voices were lovely. Every airport should hire them to sooth the masses. Kona airport is also unusual in that they have no jet causeways. Passengers climb into and out of the planes on “old school” ramps and stairways in the open air. I guess it’s easy when you never have to worry about foul weather.

Eventually our time came to board the plane and we were off – about 20 minutes late by the schedule. But no matter. We were in the air and on our way home.

Six hours and thirty minutes later, we landed in Seattle and our son picked us up. The airport was packed to the seams by that time with holiday travelers. We were so thankful this was the end of our trip and not the beginning.

We got delivered to our doorstep after paying our driver with a pizza and salad dinner. It couldn’t have been a more perfect way to end two weeks in paradise. Home again.

It was wonderful to do; wonderful to be there; wonderful to experience and explore new and different places; but oh, so wonderful to be home! The entire excursion was graced and we are immensely grateful and filled with memories and pictures to entertain us through the winters to come.

Now, we get to enjoy the pineapples we shipped to ourselves. Just a little reminder of the golden sun and graceful, sweet taste of Maui.

Our last day was meant to be a “catch me up” day, in case we missed anything while planning our excursions. And, of course, we did find a few things we wanted to add. One attraction was the lava tube I saw from highway 11 on the way to Hilo the other day; and the other was the Old Kona Airport State Park. Both were worthy destinations.

We woke early and I took off for a walk down to a little coastal park. I wanted surf and sea pictures in the morning sun. Unfortunately, to get there I had to walk along the road, sharing the little trail with other walkers, bike riders, and of course, the cars and trucks that were whizzing by just inches away from us walkers. It was a little bit of a fearful walk, but one I wanted to make. There’s nowhere else to walk to get into town – and everyone does it.

I did make it to my photo spot and was glad that I did. The surf in the morning sun is quite different from what it looks like toward afternoon and even different than  at sunset. The color of the water seems bluer; clearer; the waves whiter and somehow frothier in the early morning.

In the distance a gigantic cruise ship was coming into Kona. It made me happy to think about the flying option. The ship probably housed more people than live in all of Kona – including the visitors in hotels and condos. It makes the number of people on a plane much more acceptable.

When I got back to our rooms, my driver had breakfast almost ready. We ate the last of our eggs and croissants, while making a schedule for the remainder of the day.

The next stop – the lava tube by the highway. When we found it, people were already there climbing and snapping selfies. The sight of it was almost as shocking as looking into the venting volcano caldera. A lava tube. What an amazing artifact of nature. Hard to describe, but amazing in every way. If we had had better shoes, we might have hiked down into the tube . . . others were doing it wearing flip flops. But we had recently walked over a mile on volcanic rock and did not wish to repeat the experience. Lava rock is sharp! Lava rock is very uneven! Lava rock does not make the best walking path to observe or see anything. So, we stayed close to the road near the opening, and then climbed a little ways to the top of the tunnel, where we could look down into it.

On the way back into town, my driver reminded me if we found a place to buy a belt, he could use a new belt. We stopped at Target, where they had no belts long enough. We went across the street to Ross and could not find a parking place as all of Kona was doing their Christmas shopping at this particular Ross. So, my driver sent me in for a belt while he circled the parking lot. I did find one, along with a lovely, large island bag to replace our  much smaller carry on. I thought it necessary for all of the purchases we made while in the islands. We had to have some way to get them home.

With a new belt and a new bag, we drove across the street to visit the Old Kona Airport State Park. The parking lot was once the airport runway and the beach ran the entire length of it. But, it wasn’t your usual beach – it was a rocky, volcanic rock beach – but quite beautiful. Some cloud cover was moving in and being reflected in the tidal pools, making the photos seem surreal. My driver decided to take off his sandals and test the water. Despite the high surf warnings all week, these tidal pools seemed safe. We had been enjoying the park for about an hour and the surf never came up as high as the tidal pools. We could see zebra colored fish swimming in schools in the crystal clear water. They looked like they should be in someone’s tropical fish tank in a living room, but instead, they were in their own tropical fish tank – the Hawaiian shores of the Pacific Ocean.

Before I could leave Airport Park, I had to walk through their gardens. They had the most plumeria trees I have seen since coming to the islands. I love plumeria and I wanted to capture a picture of some. Most of the ones I had seen were too high on their branches to make photography possible. But, here in the park, the trees were smaller and the blossoms at eye level. They are a beautiful blossom, and they smell even better than they look. The aroma of a full blossoming plumeria tree is intoxicating. December must not be the month for full blossoming trees. That’s just one little disappointment of this trip – not enough plumeria blooming to make that lovely tropical scent they are known for – and I love.

Driving past the Discount Fabric Store on the way back to our rooms, required one last stop. I just had to walk through one more time to savor all the island prints before going back to the mainland where all of this is difficult to come by. I had already purchased enough to start my own store . . . but one more look couldn’t hurt.

Stopping at the front desk, we asked to be able to print our boarding passes for our fight home tomorrow. We have less than twenty hours left here now. But, I think we covered the islands, the parks, and the adventures that we had in mind when we planned this trip last March. All that and a few cherries on top as well.

We fixed some late lunch and marveled at how our groceries we purchased the first day have been just about perfect for our entire week. We talked about our adventures and began to think about packing in anticipation of leaving tomorrow morning.

Just one last sunset to put a cap on this lovely escape to paradise. I walked down the causeway in our condo complex and took my pictures off the 7th floor landing. Then, I had to go down to the third floor and try some more, closer to the surf. It really is a shame sunset only lasts about five minutes . . . I could have stood there forever. The birds were chirping loudly, the surf was pounding rhythmically, gentle breezes were blowing, and all the visitors had their eyes glued to the horizon as the sun’s golden disc melted into the blue of the water, turning the sky pinkish gold. It was magnificent. I can hardly believe this is the first sunset I got to fully observe since coming two weeks ago. We have been exploring and enjoying and stopping for the sunset just didn’t seem to coordinate with our movements. I did see several sunsets from the car window, one from a restaurant window and one from the Steak Shack’s outdoor seating on Waikiki. Not too bad, really. We did enjoy every moment.

As I was about to leave my place at the sixth floor railing, I saw the huge cruise ship turn and leave it’s mooring at Kona. Those folks had less than a day here – hardly the way to see the islands. I do not envy them. My time – our time here, has been graced in every way. But, I will be ready to take my memories and my pictures and return home tomorrow.

There was no plan and no agenda today. This was to be an island day of relaxation. And, so it was.

We slept in until 9:15, had a slow and relaxing breakfast of eggs, yogurt and sweet Hawaiian bread toast. And then, cameras in hand, we went out for a walk toward a little park we had seen one day while driving.

Once again, the sun was bright, the air warm, and covered with sunscreen and bug spray, we perspired our way along the walk. At every opportunity, we took the public access path down to the shoreline and stopped to be moved by the beauty and mesmerized by the waves. At each point, the shoreline was a little different; the waves coming in along a different arrangement of rocks, thereby crashing altogether differently than they had just a few steps away.

We laughed at the Christmas yard ornaments depicting snowmen and other winter scenes while the weather outside was 80 degrees in the shade. I continue to marvel how many folks are wearing sweaters and jackets, presumably because they are cold! It is very hard to remember it is only a week before Christmas. We are enjoying this winter-summer in every way. News from home is that the weather is cold, rainy and windy. No big surprise; that’s typical Christmas weather for the Northwest. I suppose someone from the frozen Midwest would just as easily laugh at our outdoor Christmas ornaments decorating rain drenched yards. We each celebrate Christmas as we can, I guess. Yet, this weather is really preventing me from thinking Christmas is near.

Along our walk, my driver picked a plumeria blossom for my hair and it smelled wonderful for the rest of the day.

We reached the little park and sat in the shade for about an hour just being entertained by nature’s display. There were about six men out in the waves attempting to surf, which added to our entertainment. I don’t think the waves were actually big enough for the surfing they wanted to do, but it was very fun to watch them. Look closely just over the tree branch and you can see one of the guys on his surfboard.Walking back toward the Royal Sea Cliff, we stopped at an outdoor market and examined the local wares. It was such a pleasant experience next to what it was like shopping in Honolulu or Maui. There are many visitors here, but nothing like the populations on the other islands. We enjoyed each different place, though, and rejoiced in the particular differences.

After our exercise, we determined we must have a nap. So, in the heat of the afternoon, we slept and waited for the cooler climes of the late afternoon and evening. When we woke, we decided to go see one of the laval tubes we has seen while driving past it yesterday. Only, then we decided not to. It was so lovely just doing nothing.

Because we had done nothing else all day, we opted to go out to dinner rather than eating in. Looking up options, Kura Thai sounded good and was very attractive to my driver as he loves Thai cuisine. So, to Kura Thai we went. And, it was fabulous. Probably the best Thai food I have ever had – but then I’m not much of a judge as my appreciation for Thai food is extremely limited. We were delighted to find such a great place; that makes four out of four for the Big Island. The best food in Hawaii is on this island; so say these travelers.

Coming back to our rooms, we arrived just in time to catch the last hints of the sunset. It was glorious. As was the day. A relaxing, quiet, lazy, island day. Filled with grace, wonder, appreciation, gratitude and incredible restorative properties.

After days on the dry side of the island, and two excursions into lava beds and steam venting volcanoes, today we opted for the tropical experience by visiting the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden, just north of Hilo.

We had breakfast and set out, getting on the road by 9:15a.m. We thought we were doing well with the time. Taking the scenic route north and around the coast on highway 190, it took us just over two hours to make the trip. There was a stop in there about 11:00 in the town of Waimea. It was a lovely little establishment that grew up around the Parker Ranch – which still operates today. I spotted a Starbucks, a sure sign of civilization, and of course a coffee sounded good to my driver. We also made this a comfort stop, and I took some time to explore the Parker Ranch Store while the coffee was being made. I found a tiny pair of plumeria earrings that just caught my fancy. They probably cost less than the coffee, but I just thought they were cute and couldn’t be passed up.

About 11:45 were in the vicinity of the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden, but we were very unsure we were on the right path. Gypsy had us go off the main road and toward the ocean on skinny local roads that wound down the cliff side. There were private homes and absolutely no signage. It was correct, however, and once we found it, we paid our admission to see the tropical wonders Hawaii has to offer.

The gardens are a private enterprise started as a dream in 1978 and open to the public in 1986. They are comprised of 37 acres of tropical plants that take one from 120 feet above sea level down to the rocks at the base where the ocean licked the shore.

Just walking into the gardens, we were awestruck with the beauty and enormity of the plants; the delicacy and intricacy of the flowers; and the variety and selection of all different kinds of palms, ferns, orchids, and numerous species of flowers and trees I could never name, nor have I ever seen before – all exquisitely, colorfully, beautiful.

We walked every path and back again, admiring the wonders of nature and her abunant variety in the tropics. Finding our way to sea level, we were stunned by the immensity and power of the waves crashing against the volcanic rock. It was a heart stopping show. We could have sat there and watched the waves all day. The beauty was unparalleled.

Watching the water grind with force against the solidity of the rock formations, I couldn’t help but think of the endurance of nature. Over time, these waves will likely reshape the rocks and reform the beach. But it does take time. How impatient we are when encounrtering resistence. If something doesn’t work the first time, we are likely to give up and try something else. But, the slow, certain, work of the waves simply continues until the reshaping takes place. If only we could have that kind of persistence when it comes to reshaping ourselves; when it comes to encountering new people and new ideas; when it comes to reaching out beyond our comfort level; when it comes to reshaping ourselves into good citizens of the universe, at home in places as far flung as these tropical islands. Yes, it does take time, but I do believe it can be done.

We were hesitant to leave the wonder of the botanical gardens, but we needed to rehydrate and had another spot to explore before the sun would pull the shades on the afternoon. About six miles away was ‘Akaka Falls State Park, with one of the most photographed spots on the Big Island. We set our Gypsy and turned in that direction.

Easily finding the park, we paid our parking fee and gingerly took to the steps that lead us down into a jungle ravine. And, we went down and down and further down. The trees and palms rose above us, the vines twisted and tangled overhead, and the insects inspected us as we walked by. (Thankfully, the insect repellant we purchased last night seemed to be working! No small grace.)

We were truly in the jungle, deep down under a canopy so thick there was little light making its way through. And then we turned a corner, went up several stories of steps and came face to face with ‘Akaka Falls, in all its pristine beauty. The falls itself is twice as tall as Niagara Falls, but only a fraction as wide. Still, it was impressive. Several visitors along the path asked us to take their pictures, and they in turn, took ours. It was an international group, and so fun to exchange with folks from so many places.

All the beauty and wonder fed the soul, but our bodies were crying to be fed. We drove into Hilo for the dinner hour and rather than trying to find another excellent place to eat, we opted for a known quantity, The Hilo Burger Joint. Just as before, we dined on their superb burgers and fries, salad and ice cold water. Only this time we each chose a different burger, and both of us determined they were better than the ones we had here only two days ago.

The long day required a drive back across the mountains in the dark, but my driver did a masterful job. Having driven that road twice already in the daylight, he felt confident. We made it back to Kona and the Royal Sea Cliff by 8:00. It was a long day, but one of the most beautiful days we have spent in Hawaii. Grace filled each moment in this tropical wonderland.

Today was a day exploring the National Parks located close to us on the Kona side of the island. We broke fast with fried eggs, ham and Hawaiian sweet bread, the very best way to begin a day of learning about Hawaiian history. After cleaning up the dishes, we packed our hiking bags and water bottles and set out. The first stop was Kaloko-Honokohau, a spot preserving an ancient Hawaiian fishing village and a way of life experienced by the first peoples to inhabit this area.

To reach the village we had to hike a mile, in the hot sun, over a lava flow. The path, if it could be called a path was uneven, rippled by hot lava that dried as it oozed down from the volcano Mauna Loa. The ripples of lava looked much like a cake batter does when poured into a pan before it settles out; each ripple a different level; a different width; and with different widths between the ridges. Add to that, millions of volcanic pebbles amid the various flat piles of lava and some tree trunks that had managed to take hold in the harsh environment. Needless to say, it was very rough hiking. But, we did reach the village and the beach and got to enjoy the beauty of a little cove that must have made life here just a tiny bit easier to catch fish and make a sustainable living. Along the pathway back through the lava beds we saw some petroglyphs from over 200 years ago, before the Hawaiians had an alphabet.

It was a very interesting spot and almost like we had traveled back in time to a place of peace and beauty, where island life was enjoyed. It was such a hot, hot hike, however, that when we returned to the car I drank the entire contents of my 16 ounce water bottle! And, I’m not sure that was really enough! My driver was so exhausted from the heat and the difficulty hiking that he required not only water, but lunch.

A stop at Costco was on the itenieary because we needed gas. But, we also needed hearing aid batteries since the package my driver brought must have been so old that none of them worked. And, we used the opportunity to stop for a hot dog – the cheapest lunch around. I didn’t think I was hungry, but I had no problem at all eating that hot dog!

Our next stop was Pu’ukohola Heiau, the Temple on the Hill of the Whale, built in 1790 by Kamehameha I. This Heiau, or temple played a part in Kamehameha’s ascending to be king of all the Hawaiian islands. It was a fortress built entirely of volcanic rock, smoothed by the waves of the ocean. It’s believed the rocks came from another part of the island and that a human chain 20 miles long was created to carry the rocks from their original location to the site where the temple was built. The structure and the stories that accompanied it reminded me of some of the Aztec pyramids and their cultural mythology that we have seen in the Southwest.

We hiked past the Heiau and down to the beach to savor the views and the beauty. It was interesting to me that at several points along the way there were “gifts” left as memorials, or to honor the gods. The moon was rising over the mountains and the sun was beginning to make its way toward the horizon.

We returned to the car, dehydrated once again from the hot sun and the long walk, even though this walk was on a very well maintained path. We drained our water bottles again and enjoyed the air conditiong of the car, as we traveled on to one more point of interest. My driver wanted to see the farthest northern point of the island where the climate changed from drought and desert-like to a rain shadowed, tropical-like climate.

We could almost see the line across the road as the change happened. We watched black, lava landscape with wisps of weeds transform into green grass, flowers and trees. Not surprisingly, houses began to grow here, too. We drove on to the little town of Hawi, where my driver stopped at a little cafe for some coffee and I walked the couple of blocks to look in the gallery windows and admire the local crafts.

The drive back included a lovely sunset over the laval flows. When we arrived back in Kona we made a quick stop for some bug spray as I managed to provide the local mosquitoes with more than my share of their dinner today. I look like I have chicken pox but it’s only mosquito pox. I just don’t want to give any more blood to the local economy.

Arriving at our rooms once again, we cooked up some udon noodles with chicken and ate like we had not had lunch or breakfast, for that matter. It was a lovely, if hot, day filled with the most interesting historical facts about the locale and the first peoples who lived here.

And . . . my WordPress worked! A grace all its own.