Vacation, Part II

Day 3 (cont.) through Day 7, Vashon Island

After leaving Kirkland in our new rental car, we headed over to West Seattle to pick up the car ferry to Vashon Island, just fifteen minutes out into Puget Sound but light years from downtown. We were scheduled to stay on "Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's Farm"--that is, the former farm of the author of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books, now owned by someone else who has converted it into an eccentric B&B. After finding the place by the seat of our pants we figured out which of the two suites to let ourselves into, since no one was around. We were just settling into our digs on the third floor of the barn in the loft when the proprietor called out from below. We chatted a bit, then she asked us to remind her of our names. The names didn't sound right to her...and that's when Tom realized, in a flash, that if you're staying in one spot from August 9-11 and another spot from August 12-14, you need to make sure you have somewhere to stay the night of August 11...

Yes, we had arrived a day early--and then let ourselves into someone else's room. What a sinking feeling. It was late and we were tired, and where were we to go on this little island full of private homes, no hotels anywhere? And how to explain to a three year old that we'd messed up and had to leave Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's farm again, after we'd built it up all day and just shown her her bed? But it turned out fortuitously for us: the anticipated guests hadn't arrived yet and hadn't specifically requested the loft, so the proprietor found some third spot on the rambling property to put them and tacked on an extra night to our stay.

The rest of the time on Vashon was much more relaxing. We had read it was an ideal place for biking, and that had figured large in our imaginings of these four days--until we arrived and discovered the island was ideal for biking if you were training for the Tour de France. Or at least in much better shape than a pregnant woman is, never mind the three year old to be carried on back of one of the bikes.

Instead we went into a coffee shop in the little village of Vashon every morning, checked out a few of the island's rocky beaches (once in the company of Meredith and the boys, who came out to visit), and made little houses out of logs at the farm per Edith's request. We went to the municipal pool one afternoon and took a preschooler-style hike in a public preserve. I checked out a local yarn shop that turned out to be in the owner's home. As we pulled up and I realized that it was a private residence, I prepared to turn away--I just wanted to browse briefly and wasn't up for a real purchase, much less making friends with the owner in her own home. But her husband ran down from the deck and greeted us, inviting us all in. He quickly engaged Tom in conversation, and by the time he'd given Tom a free sample of a local brew to take home and walked him through an island trail map we'd otherwise never have gotten our hands on, I felt obliged to at least take away a bit of sock yarn and a sock pattern.

We did go back into Seattle one night for dinner with our UW friends, allowing us to see another neighborhood in the city and to catch up with a great couple. The best part was hearing from a first-year assistant professor and partner who were both glowingly happy in their new location and careers. There's hope!

On the ferry, which we rode several times

At "Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's farm." The barn once held 4000 chickens. Now it held us, a bunch of lumber, an art studio, and piles of barn-appropriate odds and ends on the ground floor. We stayed in the loft at the top. Great for us, not an option if you need real childproofing...


The important part was the view from the deck (not that Edith let anyone spend much time contemplating it at leisure):


Building a raccoon house with the woodpile


"Hiking"


At the beach