Archives for posts with tag: picnic

Spring has finally arrived. I think. Not today, today is gray and damp and could very well be November. But. It was here, the sun, turning Seattle into an entirely different city; a shiny city full of people who own t-shirts and shorts and do things like smile. When the sun finally came, I swear, a darkness lifted not just from the city but from every single Seattleite’s soul. We are better people in the sunshine. We sing alongĀ  in the car and take on big hikes in the afternoon, we go to the beach (which we all forgot even existed in our lake- and sea-bound town) and bask in the still not-so-warm but we’ll-take-what-we-can-get-warm-enough sunlight. We stop needing to eat scones and muffins to distract ourselves from the gloom. We start coming back to life. Spring, thank God!

Mt. Si Hike with Madeline:


4 miles, 4,000 ft = many many snacks.


Dear Madeline.


Rainier view, hiker chicks’ reward.

Madison Beach with Logie:


Sweet Log.


Cheap Uwajimaya deli sushi. I eat so much of this, statistically I am bound to get horrible food poisoning one day. But, till then, who cares!


And we pray, not for new
earth or heaven, but to be quiet
in heart, and in eye clear.
What we need is here.

Wendell Berry (my man)

(Turkey post soon! Grilled anchovies. Doner kebabs. Unidentified lamb bits.)


In my dream world I do a lot of picnic-ing. Idyllic sit-abouts in grassy spots of sunshine on the side of backcountry roads, rucksacks packed with snacks for adventures, pretty little treats and smashed sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. And yesterday, friends, I had a little sliver of dream world. A pretty big slice actually, seeing as I spent my afternoon asleep by the sea. We went to Anna Maria Island, a long-ish drive from Sarasota proper, but well worth it, arriving at a sandy little beach town full of pretty bungalows and quiet shops. The beach is less crowded, and populated with a less “overwhelming” (shall we say…) crowd than the popular stretches of beach to the south. We spread out our towels and I promptly fell asleep, as I always do at the beach. I can’t stay awake for more than five minutes, I lay down in the sun and pass out. It’s a special skill. And although I may not be the most engaging beach companion… at least I bring snacks. In ugly plastic tupperwares, not the pretty Frenchy butcher paper wrapped breads and canned fruits of my dreams, but nonetheless tasty. Strawberries and apples with cinnamon and lemon, and warm-but-still-good chopped caprese. (With basil from my mini baby front door garden!)

Post-snack and post-nap, we were feeling the hunger so we tromped up the beach and made our way through the quiet downtown. (There’s some strange common quality between all little seaside towns, beyond the seashell motifs and ice cream shops galore, they’ve just all got this something-or-other about them; from Anna Maria in Florida to Cannon Beach in Oregon. Whatever it is, it’s nice, I think.) After a few horrible minutes of that hunger-wander we settled on The Sign of The Mermaid, a funky little house-restaurant complete with a resident pie-making champion and an extraordinary amount of very varied tchotchkes (samurai prints, glass mermaids, old Vogue covers). We didn’t have any pie (though we were intrigued by the peanut butter truffle pie thing that was truly eight inches high) but we did eat lots of very garlicy bread and pickled cabbage. And had really nice breath.

Alexandria and the Mermaid.