Walking Along Fishtrap Creek

Took a rainy day walk along Fishtrap Creek today, looking for signs of spring. The Nooksack Indians named it Fishtrap Creek because the salmon spawn here. In the old day, the natives had a trap to catch the spawning salmon, somewhere near this spot. They shared the catch with the early pioneers. Still the salmon

fight their way back up this creek to lay their eggs and die... I hope it shall be this way forever.

I turn to follow the path through a hemlock grove in our little city park. My mother, now gone, played here as a young girl. My grandchildren come here in the summer. They splash in the cool water and rest under the canopy of the evergreens... This too, I hope shall continue forever.

Every spring the creek is stocked with trout for a fishin' derby. Hundreds of hopeful girls and boys line the banks to try their luck. Today the water is muddy from rain. But even so, this gentleman has caught a nice one! I wonder what he used for bait?

Here's a charming stone cottage that sits by the creek along the way. Even though it's not big or grand, for me, this little place is the stuff of which dreams are made...

The owners brought artisans from Europe to thatch the roof. The stonework is amazing. They've kept the yard simple. However, in the summer, their espaliered apple trees are lovely. (not shown).

The path takes me past the gazebo. It's raining, and a little tempting to stop in and dry off a bit...but we Washingtonian's can handle our rain.

Come to think of it, most of us would more likely use the gazebo to escape the sun than the rain!

Shall I turn this way....

or go over the footbridge? I think the footbridge today. I once saw an owl perched in a tree just above the bridge; I still look for him every time I walk past. Nope, he's not here today.

I greet the folks with the striped
umbrella. They return my greeting and ask how I'm doing. It's like that here in my hometown. People still smile and say hello. They stop their cars when you are trying to cross the street. And they wave at you when you walk by.

On Friday nights they come out to watch the boys from the home team and cheer them on--even when lose.

On Sunday they go to church.

It's like that here in my hometown.

The path now leads me away from the creek and through Homestead Golf Course. (I don't call it a Country Club,

that might be just a bit pretentious, don't you think?)

Spring golf at Homestead is for determined, hardy souls. Yes, I play, but not in the rain, not much anyway.

Almost home...here's a neighborhood cottage I just adore...it's for sale if you're interested...

Well, it's raining. The crocus are blooming and the golfers are out.

I think it might be spring after all, along the Fishtrap Creek!

Despite my aforementioned knitting disaster (the infamous Razzberry Beret); I continue to knit. I don't know why. Maybe it's the color or the repetition. It's like gambling, but much less expensive. My coffee table is laden with library books about knitting. The sofa is strewn with snippets of yarn. I find myself buying yarn like I used to buy fabric-just for the color. I don't have to be thinking of a project, persey (is this how you spell per-say?), I just need to buy yarn. Wool yarn, acrylic yarn. Variegated colors. Bright fuschias, forest greens, rich chocolatey mochas and vanilla bean colors. If I can't buy yarn, things about knitting will do. So yesterday I stopped by Barnes & Noble for a hot chocolate with extra whipping cream and a visit to the crafting section. I found this extraordinary knitting book! It's title was enough to draw me in..."Mason*Dixon Knitting". Subtitled The Curious Knitters' Guide. Stories, Patterns, Advice, Opinions, Questions, Answers, Jokes, and Pictures. Who could resist such a title? If you love to knit and you enjoy folksy writing, this book is a must have!

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