Today was the first time I’ve visited the newly-completed Japanese Exclusion Memorial. Beautiful craftsmanship, meandering walk, heartbreakingly fitting.

The two kiddos along with me this afternoon loved prying up the glassy sheets of ice on every puddle.

Branches still down all over. And looking a little closer… shiny cigarette butts! (magpie mentality)

And then I saw this. This blooming witch hazel has me utterly bewitched. Really, really gorgeous specimen on the north end of the quad.

Delicate little buds everywhere you look!

As much as she hates going out in the rain, Tasha doesn’t mind the snow a bit.

A’s long-limbed snowbaby.

We’ll see how long the primrose holds its own against the snow.

First, sweet glutinous rice is soaked overnight. Then it’s steamed in boxes and poured into a stone mortar. There it’s pounded with wooden mallets until it forms a sticky, elastic dough.

Inside the dining hall, we got to make our own mochi balls from the dough: starting with a twisted-off piece of rice dough, we stretched it to accommodate a ball of red bean paste and patted it into a sphere. Just slightly sweet but mostly very bland, quite tender and very chewy, mochi is a bit like a (healthier?)version of cookie dough–not really my cup of tea, but perfect as a once-a-year celebratory snack.

Seattle Kokon Taiko gave a great performance (we luckily got tickets for their last set of the day). Whatever is wrong, taiko makes it better, if only for the duration of the performance–the whole-body resonance it produces demands that you be fully present and leaves you feeling renewed, joyful, smiling.

There is the little problem of vicarious ambition, whose shadow lurks whenever parents set their children up with lessons of the sort they never had or never chose but would have if circumstances had allowed it. But mostly, listening to S. play her Andantes from Suzuki book 2, I’m just purely happy that in 9 months’ time of lessons, she’s able to pick up her guitar and make beautiful music.

Her teacher, J.D., who keeps a studio at B.I’s Island Music Center (and is kind of a big deal in other venues) is a warm and encouraging stickler for proper form. He’s one of the best role models S’s come in contact with.

Just look at this little pup, asleep in S’s lap. She’s a Welsh Pembroke Corgi, 8 weeks old yesterday, and as adorable as they come. We’ve thought about getting a dog for years, and now is finally the time. As of yet, she is unnamed though…

Head of Eagle Harbor, Bainbridge Island
Playing catch-up a little bit here: I took these on November 29th, right at sunrise. I had just dropped off A. at school and had a couple of minutes before I had to be to work. The very nicest of interludes.

It was beautifully misty this morning. I snapped these around 8am at the head of Eagle Harbor. It’s also quite cold now, which has stirred my love of textiles again. My current potholders have been leaving my fingers burnt, so here we have the product of today’s project: potholders with primitive snail and sun.

Sleeping in a seaside yurt is a most cozy way to spend a November night, especially if it’s a hugely stormy night, with the roar of the ocean and winds swirling around outside.

A. wanted to go camping for his birthday trip this year, so we reserved a state park yurt for a night. They’re very popular at Grayland Beach State Park, and I was lucky to find an opening. The yurts are heated, sleep five on comfortable mattresses, and have central skylights that let in the bright moonlight and scudding stormcloudy view. In the morning, we all awoke rested right around 6:30, with the gradual lightening of the day pouring through.