Here I am again. Artist in residence on Vashon Island, near Seattle.

Back after 2 years for another dose of sea, sun, artistic freedom and uninterrupted time to make and think. Time to get bored enough to have new ideas, and time enough to experiment without anyone but myself to criticise my efforts.

Last time I was here we were 4 mature adults. I had a wonderful time, and many happy memories. This time I had some reservations about trying to repeat the experience.

Part of me felt I should be going somewhere more adventurous, seeing new places. The other part of me was happy to combine the trip with a visit to my family in Vancouver, a mere train ride away. To return to a place that I knew to be comfortable, calm and on the water.

​What could possibly go wrong?

I arrived to meet my fellow artists and writers during a heatwave. They were all very young. In their twenties and thirties. I felt old amongst them. A very different feeling to previously. I am not hunting for a partner, thinking about my career, or struggling to make ends meet. I speak differently and we often misunderstood each other. This felt strange, given that we were speaking the same language. 

I came with the intention to work on learning the art of Japanese wood cut printing
( Mokuhanga). I carried chisels and wood carving knives in my hold luggage, and wondered if it would get safely through customs. I had ordered paper and wood to be delivered to the residency so that I could get started as soon as I arrived. 

The paper for my alternative activities such as making cyanotypes and a hand made book. didn't arrive. It was delayed. Days went by,  and each day I hoped it would turn up, which it eventually did just 5 days before I was due to fly home. Too late for anything worthwhile to be done.

So how did I cope? At first everything felt wrong. I considered flying home..... but knew that that was ridiculous. I was in a lovely place and needed to get to know my fellow artists. It takes time to get to know strangers; a poet, a novelist and a visual artist. We had lots of lovely conversations about books. The writers wrote or read all day long, sitting outside on the deck beside stacks of books and their laptops.

Some were very untidy in the kitchen, leaving pots and pans for days. I decided to ignore all of this, and started a little list of things that I couldn't or didn't feel it would be helpful to say aloud. After all, we were going to be together for three and a half weeks. 

The list includes 

• why do you say F**** so often?
• why don't you do your F****ing washing up?

I felt better for writing it down.
The swearing declined and the washing up improved with time. 

We got to know each other better as the days progressed, and true bonding occurred over the four player 'mid -west' card game called Euchre. It has to be said that my skills in this game are completely lacking, and I was definitely the weakest link as partners went. Remembering cards is not my strong point. But we laughed, played, changed partners and laughed some more. The effect on our little group was astonishing. I felt much more at ease as the days progressed.

While the writers were reading and writing, I meanwhile, needed to get into the forest, and went for regular walks to relax and take photos.
​I worked with a mirror, and continued my project of rephotographing landscapes that I had started in Santa Fe. The forest was dry after weeks without rain. I started to crave some wide landscapes or trees dripping with rain and lichens.

I swam in Puget Sound every day, surrounded by moon jelly jellyfish, kayaked and paddle boarded. I tried to capture the moonjellies with my camera, with great difficulty as they were on the move all the time, as was the kayak. I settled for drifting over them as they swam like stars in a deep night sky. 

But mostly I was learning how to carve and print very simple designs whilst learning the key principles of wood cut printing. I enjoyed the process, and made a lot of very unremarkable prints. I have a lot to learn about layers, colour combinations and  print design. 

 After two weeks had passed I knew that I needed to escape for a couple of days. Like one of my fellow residents I was getting 'cabin fever'. Mount Rainier, the glacier topped volcano was within reach, and was calling loudly to me. I couldn't come all this way and not pay it a visit.

So on my last weekend I made a journey by ferry off the island, and drove south to Mt Rainier National Park. All alone, I felt like an escapee on a mini road trip. As I drove through the gates of the National Park I felt like I was coming home to where I belong. In the mountains, surrounded by unspoilt land, trees and rivers with the familiar brown buildings of national park inn, admin buildings and visitor centre.

I didn't mind that the views were hidden by the cloud. It was just great to be there.
​

I hiked on the Wonderland trail beside the Nisqually river. 

I walked alone despite warnings to only hike in groups. I was not heading out into the wilderness so I ignored the signs. I had a torch and a small first aid kit, and plenty of spare clothes. That's at least half of an essential kit for going into the wild....

​I paid attention to the lush details of this rain drenched forest. I was more than happy just walking and looking at the old trees and lichens.
​

I spent the night just outside the park and wondered if I would be any luckier with the weather the next morning. I only had one more shot at seeing the mountain, and I knew that there were no guarantees.

Next morning I woke really early and checked the Paradise webcam at the top of the mountain road. It appeared to show clear skies in the pre-dawn darkness. I dived out of bed, packed, had a cup of tea and drove the 30 minutes up the mountain road to Paradise. And there it was!

Mount Rainier in glorious early morning sunshine. I was elated.

​Feeling extraordinarily lucky.

I set off at 7.00am for the Skyline trail hike. A four hour circuit around the foot of the mountain. I had not had breakfast due to my early departure, so I survived on a large bag of trail mix, my water and an apple. It was exhilarating and varied, through meadows, rock, bogs and streams, with spectacular views in all directions. I saw marmots and pika, birds of prey and wild goat. No bears made an appearance, but there were plenty of other hikers to chat to along the way.

When I completed the hike I had fully decided that hiking was more important to me right now than making art. 
And so that is what I aim to do for the foreseeable future; explore new places and go hiking.

With a bit of art thrown in for good measure.

And what of my fellow artists?

I have come to know them and appreciate them for their very individual qualities. I have learnt important things and much trivia about modern life by listening to them talking. I have learnt what 'colour' I read, from the 'Read your Color' website, and which movie character I am most like from the 'Which Character Personality Quiz'. 

So you see, I have been educated and challenged. Taken out of my comfort zone, and made to think about my choices in life. All of which are good things.

​And when I got back from my two days away the draining board was just as I left it...........and I was not in the least surprised. 

A very good friend asked me what my next blog post would be about. We chatted about writing and I explained that I have recently been having difficulty working out what is OK to say in my blog. Before I gave up alcohol completely I found that a glass of wine helped me to find the perfect balance between saying too much and holding back on what I really feel. Now I am mostly  just holding back...... but let's see how this goes.....

This week OH and I celebrated 43 years of marriage. I explained to very good friend that 'celebrate' was probably not the right term to use. For we have never felt the need for romantic dinners, anniversary gifts or sentimental acts. We barely manage an exchange of cards. Each year it is a test of memory. Who will forget this time. In the past we have had all possible combinations of forgetting. Both, just me, or just OH ( my other half). The rememberer always gets to feel good. Phew! I made it this time.......

This year we both failed in different ways. OH took himself off to find the Mediterranean Sea for a few days, for a 'proper summer break'. No matter that we have a heatwave here in England. This was his way of dealing with the fact that he has agreed to go to Norway for our summer holiday. No weather guarantees there. I don't enjoy humidity or heat. OH thrives on sweating in the sun whilst climbing an ancient ruin. I just want to jump into a fridge. So he left an anniversary card for me at home, forgetting that I, also, wasn't at home. I had escaped the heat of suburbia for the cooler climes of Camber Sands. 
I remembered that the anniversary was looming too late to put a card into his suitcase, and had to make do with a vastly inferior e-card. Almost as bad as no card. Perhaps worse... it certainly felt desperate.

So we spoke on the day. He from a castle in Corfu, sweating in the Mediterranean sun, and me from the sunshine of Camber Sands, fresh and glorious. We laughed at our joint ineptitude, and all was good.

Which brings me to vegetables; specifically home grown cabbage and mange tout peas. How is it that after 43 years OH still cannot cook either in a way that allows one to enjoy their freshly picked, home grown delicious flavours? How can it be so hard not to boil them to a soggy mess, and serve them dripping with water, onto clean white plates? There. I said it. No going back.... and yet we have 43 years. Some things are just not worth worrying about. 

I have pondered long and hard about whether it is OK to blog about this, and realise that fear of getting it wrong was stopping me from writing at all. All this indirect communication through blogs is turning into a family specialty. Son does a wonderful job of communicating all sorts of things with us via the written word. And surely it is OK for me to reciprocate. So much that needs saying gets said, and our lives are so much richer for it. Maybe not the cabbage bit, but we all get to understand each other a little better, and that is the strength of words on a page.

And in the middle of writing this OH and I popped off to Norway where it was unvbelievably hot and sunny every day for 8 days. 27 degrees and barely a cloud to be seen. No moody landscapes on this trip.

It was so hot, and so beautiful that I barely took any photos, and my camera stayed in my suitcase for the whole trip. I fell in love with Norway, and knew that I couldn't do it justice in such a short space of time whilst on the road. I will have to return at a gentler pace.

So I soaked in the beauty, swam in the beauty, and hiked in the beauty. And that was more than enough.