By Emilia Flor As the light shifts and the air turns crisp, we step into Autumn with open hands and full hearts – the season of harvest, of orchards heavy with fruit, waters rich with salmon, and farms giving up their bounty before the ground rests. This Autumn, we return to values … Regenerative agriculture….
By Rich Osborne It has been a good summer for performances. We saw “Rent” at the Vashon Center for the Arts. Spectacular. Strong cast, great musicians, the whole meal deal. A well-deserved standing ovation. I laughed, I cried, I remembered what it was like, performing in New York, in the late seventies. (Yes! I was…
Sunrise on the Reaping By Emily Kiefer Many of you likely remember the craze The Hunger Games had on pop culture and teen fiction in the 2010s. Well, as of March of last year, many fans re-entered the world of The Hunger Games with Suzanne Collins’ newest installment of the series, Sunrise on the Reaping….
Part Three: Wingehaven, Shakespeare’s Shack, MacDonald’s Farm By Richard Odell Mike Sudduth, classmate, fellow Beall Greenhouse potting-shed drudge, and Vashon historical researcher, lent a hand with this article. Down deep into the canyon below the Falcon’s Nest, down to where you could hear waves break on the beach, you came upon another monumental relic; a…
By Gates (Pam) Johnson I am about sick and tired of talking about my stupid health. Long story short, yeah, I have some major health problems. Yeah, it’s been a long hellacious journey. Yeah, it ain’t over yet, but the big stuff is in the rear-view mirror. Now it’s time to focus on the future….
By Karen Dale Even before I became a Irish fiddler, I was already a fan of Molly’s Revenge, a Celtic and Old Time trad music trio who often played the Bethel Church on Vashon. To see David Brewer dancing about under a set of highland pipes nearly as big as he was, with John Weed…
By Suzanna Leigh It was my mother Marj’s 102nd Birthday celebration, and the family were gathered around. The traditional feast was consumed, the dishes washed, and the gluten-free pineapple upside-down cake served and eaten. It was time for presents. Mom carefully, with some help, unwrapped an oddly shaped gift from daughter Jeannie – and her…
By Laura C. Lippman Dolly Driving I-90 through the dark Wyoming night summer 1972, two-thirds the way from Philly to Seattle, no one waiting at my destination, the only radio station in the whole godforsaken state was Country. I had been traveling to the beat of a different drum singing Linda Ronstadt to myself, belting…
By Suzanna Leigh My name is Puff. Well it used to be. That’s what Jackie Paper called me. Such fine times we had! Sailing the high seas, getting homage from pirates and princes. Sometimes I took him flying high over the land and we looked down at the little towns and villages below. It was…