I'm sitting in my home office, gazing out at the waters of Puget Sound. I live on the northern tip of Vashon Island and have never lived anywhere that is quite this beautiful. From here, I can see the shores of Kitsap Peninsula to my left, the Fauntleroy ferry landing far to my right, Blake Island just ahead, and the tip of Bainbridge Island just past that. And I can see all the way down the Strait of Juan de Fuca. On a clear day, I can see the snow-capped Olympic Mountains to the west, the Cascades to the east, and Mount Baker to the north - and it's so stunning I could weep.
The ferries are my comfort during a dark and stormy night. Their brightly lit interiors shine across the night, reminding me that all is well. And I watch them as they travel from Southworth to the North End and on to Fauntleroy while, further north, the Bainbridge Island ferry floats back and forth from Seattle.
In the spring, the sun begins warming our deck, and by the summer, we're living outside whenever we're home. We start seeing our neighbors outside on their decks as well, and we renew our summer friendships. It's only February now, and I can only dimly remember the warmth of that sun....
This morning, for the first time, I watched as five sea lions cavorted in front of our home. They each honked a boisterous laugh as they frolicked in the surf kicked up by the high winds, seeming to laugh with delight as they rolled and floated, dove and sprang up again out of the water. Other mornings, I have watched the family of otters that lives in our seawall, as they quietly, sleekly, gather their harvest and swim for home. Slappy, our favorite seal, comes by often to say hello, until our two too-friendly Goldens come out to greet him too and Slappy makes his rapid departure back into the deep!
We have watched eagles soar over the waters, silently scanning until they steeply dive and come up with their dinner. One early morning when the tide was out, I watched an adult eagle supervise from a distance as his young offspring learned to feed himself from the wealth of the tidepools. The herons will stand, one leg up, on the big rock just off our shore, quietly watching as the seagulls reel and twirl and cry overhead.
Just a few weeks ago, my husband saw a pod of whales - the J Pod we're told - proudly swim by, their stately fins held elegantly upright. I was happy for him to have seen them, but so disappointed that I couldn't have been there with him when he did!
We've watched sailing regattas with their gaily patterned sails at full mast float by with teams shouting and, on the Fourth of July, the Vashon Island hydroplane races (usually no more than three or four boats - this year there was only one that made it all the way around the island!). In the summer, our friends come by on their boats, shouting and waving and beckoning us to come play. On slower days, island friends float by in their kayaks or dinghies with a friendly wave, and we'll invite them up for cocktails.
I love this island. I love living here. But I hate that my daily commute to Seattle is restricted by limited ferry service, and once I get home to the island, it takes an act of God to get me to leave it! And I hate that my high mortgage payment means I lack the freedom to work in a less stressful, lower paying career. And that my career means I have to spend more time off this island than on it!
So do I stay or do I go? It is lovely here, and safe. My husband works on one side of the Sound, and I work on the other. At the time, this seemed like a perfect place in the middle for both of us. But the commute and the mortgage payment have combined to become a burden. We think of downsizing and living in a smaller house or condo - and do we really need to live on the water? Wouldn't it be just as nice if we only had some sort of view and a lower - or nonexistent! - mortgage payment?
So we keep looking at alternatives, but they're never quite right, and the price is too high when we consider what we'd have to pay now to have half the home we have now! And those homes seem small and dark, compared to the light, bright wide-open space that this home has. But every month, after sitting in ferry line after ferry line, when I write out that mortgage check while gritting my teeth, I ask myself if it's worth it...
And then this morning, the sea lions came by and called to us for the first time. My husband and I watched, our arms around each other as we drank our morning coffee. And we wouldn't have missed it for the world.
The ferries are my comfort during a dark and stormy night. Their brightly lit interiors shine across the night, reminding me that all is well. And I watch them as they travel from Southworth to the North End and on to Fauntleroy while, further north, the Bainbridge Island ferry floats back and forth from Seattle.
In the spring, the sun begins warming our deck, and by the summer, we're living outside whenever we're home. We start seeing our neighbors outside on their decks as well, and we renew our summer friendships. It's only February now, and I can only dimly remember the warmth of that sun....
This morning, for the first time, I watched as five sea lions cavorted in front of our home. They each honked a boisterous laugh as they frolicked in the surf kicked up by the high winds, seeming to laugh with delight as they rolled and floated, dove and sprang up again out of the water. Other mornings, I have watched the family of otters that lives in our seawall, as they quietly, sleekly, gather their harvest and swim for home. Slappy, our favorite seal, comes by often to say hello, until our two too-friendly Goldens come out to greet him too and Slappy makes his rapid departure back into the deep!
We have watched eagles soar over the waters, silently scanning until they steeply dive and come up with their dinner. One early morning when the tide was out, I watched an adult eagle supervise from a distance as his young offspring learned to feed himself from the wealth of the tidepools. The herons will stand, one leg up, on the big rock just off our shore, quietly watching as the seagulls reel and twirl and cry overhead.
Just a few weeks ago, my husband saw a pod of whales - the J Pod we're told - proudly swim by, their stately fins held elegantly upright. I was happy for him to have seen them, but so disappointed that I couldn't have been there with him when he did!
We've watched sailing regattas with their gaily patterned sails at full mast float by with teams shouting and, on the Fourth of July, the Vashon Island hydroplane races (usually no more than three or four boats - this year there was only one that made it all the way around the island!). In the summer, our friends come by on their boats, shouting and waving and beckoning us to come play. On slower days, island friends float by in their kayaks or dinghies with a friendly wave, and we'll invite them up for cocktails.
I love this island. I love living here. But I hate that my daily commute to Seattle is restricted by limited ferry service, and once I get home to the island, it takes an act of God to get me to leave it! And I hate that my high mortgage payment means I lack the freedom to work in a less stressful, lower paying career. And that my career means I have to spend more time off this island than on it!
So do I stay or do I go? It is lovely here, and safe. My husband works on one side of the Sound, and I work on the other. At the time, this seemed like a perfect place in the middle for both of us. But the commute and the mortgage payment have combined to become a burden. We think of downsizing and living in a smaller house or condo - and do we really need to live on the water? Wouldn't it be just as nice if we only had some sort of view and a lower - or nonexistent! - mortgage payment?
So we keep looking at alternatives, but they're never quite right, and the price is too high when we consider what we'd have to pay now to have half the home we have now! And those homes seem small and dark, compared to the light, bright wide-open space that this home has. But every month, after sitting in ferry line after ferry line, when I write out that mortgage check while gritting my teeth, I ask myself if it's worth it...
And then this morning, the sea lions came by and called to us for the first time. My husband and I watched, our arms around each other as we drank our morning coffee. And we wouldn't have missed it for the world.
