tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85690496683808297982024-03-16T00:08:12.278-07:00Dan's Blog... a Saturday morning look at nature, wildlife, attitude, aging and the rural adventure.Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.comBlogger467125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-85776588776155702012021-08-07T10:15:00.000-07:002021-08-07T10:15:29.807-07:00Final Harvest<span id="docs-internal-guid-858ad47d-7fff-6690-c246-89b4f40f1525"><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">A guest blog in tribute to Dan Pedersen</span></i></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">by Jennifer Angelis</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 319px; overflow: hidden; width: 426px;"><img height="319" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/2iIvW_YGgOqOn_zwaDNOtaYjUQN0YEheVbz1Suvz9C2_ahs1Py6t1NS5xAbSZHmp0k5_bjveXKafOSeoKNFpdDDP5miYiw3IKiEi_t320s5MiKjUtGKBRgbVMDcaN-N1jtoESq1l" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="426" /></span></span></p><div><span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-c33eb6b1-7fff-46a7-7f69-1116bd884fce"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">In the months leading up to Dan’s death, I shared with him many photos from vantage points overlooking parts of this incredibly diverse Skagit County. Having grown up here in the valley where I now live, it brought back some warm memories for him of his youth and a place he cherished. I love that he recognized many of the places I photographed and shared those memories with me. It was one aspect of the warm connection we were able to share this spring. It also brought me to appreciate my surroundings in a deeper, more profound way.</span></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-f01e6390-7fff-6559-6cb6-332551382f23"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">More recently I sent photos to Dan of the many crops that grow on my road. In the week leading into and out of his passing, I found myself keeping a very close eye on the field of wheat planted directly across the road from my home. Each season, we never know what will be planted in this field, so it’s always an exciting discovery. We enjoy the corn years, because when they reach some height they provide a sound barrier for us from a busy road, but the wheat is my favorite.</span></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-94af788c-7fff-e3e9-a525-f190bc15c0d9"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It’s my favorite because I love to watch how it changes colors during the stages of its growth from seed to stalk, and even over the course of a day as the light shifts from dawn to dusk. I love the way it dances with the wind and waves flow over the field -- a soft blanket upon the earth. I can’t tell you how many pictures I have taken of this field! Often, I walk to the end of my driveway to soak up the glory of it.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-1c063dd2-7fff-28e5-d608-af72c9c4a641"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 321px; overflow: hidden; width: 429px;"><img height="321" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/TiDv0Ze9NDH9B7kjdpBTdn112kxDgGi4x7et6FUHZ_jZ9tn-8kuaDDKyF5Rzc5x8u2FqaHPjppVunojnFC28GABXHCsdisv6THeP2g4cvwj7sSM3Ohi4CQtPfo7anDTJZTqtHeXG" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="429" /></span></span></p><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-049e8ae3-7fff-914e-4323-5430cee0537a"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A few days prior to Dan’s death, I was sitting on our back deck in the morning with my coffee and the quiet was broken by farm equipment. A common occurrence and yet I instantly knew they had started to harvest the wheat. Even knowing the day was coming, and coming soon, I was touched with the sadness of it. The change. The uncertainty of not knowing how long it would be before we were graced with another field of wheat. One year? Four years?</span></span></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-c67fb2ba-7fff-29ed-1999-89edb52875bd"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 324px; overflow: hidden; width: 433px;"><img height="324" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/DoBsCola_uCwZo0Cy-3OB2Ho_lq7LEf9uPHJiStvVqg4AdrSp_apuqm5NTf-q4qdrdiZwSK3dwvVU925lo5qIW-oPAHeMgYGKPuzFeP-3LASrt8pg0Hr0KU1l0DLlBa6UG2UkUZ4" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="433" /></span></span></p><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-bc4602fe-7fff-d412-64b2-35511a5ad1c8"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I found comfort in thinking about the job of the wheat. That it was off on it’s journey to be transformed and to fulfill its purpose -- to feed and nurture us. I do absolutely love a warm fresh-baked loaf of bread! But while walking Henry the next day, I was saddened as I noted some short, narrow swaths of wheat that were missed by the combine -- unharvested. I could not help but contemplate the feelings (seriously - the feelings) of the wheat as I gazed upon it. Henry looked at me as I stood at the field, far too long in his opinion, as he was done sniffing that spot and ready to move to the next. I wondered -- did it feel left behind? Abandoned? Or maybe, just maybe, was it overjoyed? It had escaped the reaping -- the deep cuts of the combine! It saw a new sunrise and lived on!</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-0f844c00-7fff-a187-3db8-ca94228f9f2d"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 324px; overflow: hidden; width: 431px;"><img height="324" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/6D9oUGcHYxMAY9OGLBytWX5yR-DiioYud6pGQa4b8n5voyH-De05ksNIQdAfKAXlEjqBBouO-HeOP9iNUHItZ0f4Wpmq7a-PhtyV93dcMel69uiLe_00px4IlCO2XzDnPdyakk0S" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="431" /></span></span></p><br /></span></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-210f38af-7fff-2b51-6dd1-776112c8134c"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">During my time with Dan in his last hours, I shared with him they had harvested the wheat. “It happens,” he said. “It was time.” “I bet the eagles loved it.” “They sure did!” I told him. I was sad to see it go, but so glad I had captured some great photos of it this year. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I arrived home the day after Dan’s death, I was so completely drained and exhausted; so heavy with the grief and raw love I was carrying. My husband gathered me in his arms, held me close, and presented me with a stunning bouquet of wheat. He had given an entirely new purpose to the wheat that had lived on.</span></p><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 422px; overflow: hidden; width: 316px;"><img height="422" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/N1SKE-VmKHenHAZ61bv-8Qs5Vzd3ys1n7_-_4VWn5gunk0-_BcRpiBFeTbwl88nI5ukVSPTl_QBDPUJt_w6GOAyJf49GqsWmh_DMOWoCDC0KpSpXAWSc_nnL_9bFwUwNPBh-j87l" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="316" /></span></span></p><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s hard to articulate the joy this bouquet has brought to me as I have sat in quiet moments with it and reflected on my goodbye with Dan and the loss I feel. I am comforted to know that while Dan’s time with me has ended and he has fulfilled his purpose here, I am not abandoned or left behind. I live on for another sunset and my life is richer as I uncover for myself the meaning of having been touched by Dan’s. I will treasure his legacy and strive to make the world more beautiful just as he did. Like the wheat in my bouquet, I may now find my life going in entirely unexpected directions. I can lean into these discoveries if I am brave enough to step forward with my tender heart open and place one foot in front of the other. I’m confident the next place my steps will take me is across the road to my first harvest -- gathering up some more bouquets of this glorious wheat.</span></div></span></span></div></span>Jenn Angelishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01237272563860447559noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-66600749333406691662021-07-31T10:17:00.000-07:002021-07-31T10:17:59.710-07:00Final Words<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_g_v0QoiuNeAj9DtEfeX1lWeE9e-lugIJdoKon-2xTFVAm0D7pi8yZ82yKeI680gw968oi0j-N_LY3LROIETJ9uq1Ih3Rr0RfY3SIphdOqfVVCGmqnJfi1qoOZnDaJSFWUN8qqNW3EE/s509/Dan+Pedersen_0053crop+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="509" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_g_v0QoiuNeAj9DtEfeX1lWeE9e-lugIJdoKon-2xTFVAm0D7pi8yZ82yKeI680gw968oi0j-N_LY3LROIETJ9uq1Ih3Rr0RfY3SIphdOqfVVCGmqnJfi1qoOZnDaJSFWUN8qqNW3EE/w640-h562/Dan+Pedersen_0053crop+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>At Double Bluff Beach on a winter day. <i>Photo courtesy David Welton</i><br /></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The time has come to say goodbye. I asked Sue to send this last blog post after my death, since many of you wanted us to let you know.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was a privilege to share Saturday mornings with you. I never dreamed this blog would grow as it did and introduce me to so many thoughtful people. As a friend said, we'll continue this conversation in another lifetime.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But I laugh because I just can't stop writing, and here I am still doing it after I'm gone. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I had a fulfilling life, surrounded by good and positive people who lifted me up. My goal as a writer was to do the same for you. Getting down toward the end, my wife. Sue, and daughter, Jennifer, showered me with love. No one could ask for more.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I can't say enough good things about my caregivers at WhidbeyHealth. They lightened my journey with laughter and love. They were not only my heroes but also the most compassionate of friends. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkoj09LgbnE9JaTE8BniOEjd-82uq8oWGzWgic0viZLPRkCM2afmm8dQRGOxmXeaO5D2gcbYRyITtX30RGGuBNiQNxiZ5qQKMginEondYpTg3XQR6pNWX_2KzAKIcTdU1ktjlFjTJZZr4/s2048/IMG_4457.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1830" data-original-width="2048" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkoj09LgbnE9JaTE8BniOEjd-82uq8oWGzWgic0viZLPRkCM2afmm8dQRGOxmXeaO5D2gcbYRyITtX30RGGuBNiQNxiZ5qQKMginEondYpTg3XQR6pNWX_2KzAKIcTdU1ktjlFjTJZZr4/w640-h572/IMG_4457.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Duncan at Admiralty Head Lighthouse.</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ashes will be spread, along with Duncan's, at Keystone Spit, where we shared many joyful walks. He was my forensic specialist, ever reconstructing the past with his superior nose while I photographed birds and marine views.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Sue and I won the lottery with Duncan -- a wise and intuitive companion who became inseparable from me. Duncan and I will be with you in spirit as you walk at Keystone.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Each day is a gift and a blessing. Be kind to your fellow travelers on this most mysterious and final journey of all. </span></span></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-86293458166542826902021-07-26T13:00:00.001-07:002021-07-26T13:47:38.618-07:00463 -- Wiley Slough with Craig and Joy Johnson<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi936blcUVNZbtyuW7DKpRs8oUzfly9-aMad0eK1x5i9ix5Hb-nk0w4xnO5G2XwjkhUFZMwpIPokJje6pSbuTgekCHs9T2_3sLOD3f10DBv5t39eOQofgQpKlfuoN-C1q_QGdj68421x4w/s2000/Mt+Baker+view+from+path.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="2000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi936blcUVNZbtyuW7DKpRs8oUzfly9-aMad0eK1x5i9ix5Hb-nk0w4xnO5G2XwjkhUFZMwpIPokJje6pSbuTgekCHs9T2_3sLOD3f10DBv5t39eOQofgQpKlfuoN-C1q_QGdj68421x4w/w640-h360/Mt+Baker+view+from+path.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Views of Mount Baker are gorgeous from Wiley Slough and the farmlands of Fir Island. <i>Copyright 2021 by Craig Johnson</i></span></b></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> By Craig Johnson and Dan Pedersen<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Note: While I would normally publish this post as scheduled, this Saturday, circumstances argue for doing it earlier. This will be the final post on Dan's Blog. Thank you to all the faithful readers who have stuck with me over the years and shared your comments. I will miss our thoughtful conversation. --Dan<br /></i></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>* </i> <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">Before our car even came to a complete stop, we had a good feeling about Wiley Slough," said my blog partner, Craig Johnson. "A juvenile Barn Swallow was sunning on the gravel parking area. We hadn't even begun to look around, and already we could see and hear birds."</span></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Since Craig's last appearance in this blog, he and Joy relocated to the mainland and began exploring Stanwood, Camano Island, Fir Island and Mount Vernon -- all places dear to my heart.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Over the years, on my many trips to Camano Island, LaConner and Skagit Valley, I always made a special effort to get off the Interstate highway at the Arlington exit and take the back roads through Silvana to Stanwood. Further north, my favorite shortcut to LaConner and Skagit County was to exit at Conway and make the drive across Fir Island. I never realized how close I was to Wiley Slough.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIQ44Hvl8LXX7mnRRR5VTU3QQo-vZkS90Bqvpw3pp0FmX4yDCa2DykbfPGzoTpdYI7s-bwhhlHlcwTIJL_J3V95ipeELtA3EX4iSjB7jT2mt6brJ4Ysh5iT71tIq_i84bhB3259gbmM8/s2000/Juvenile+Barn+Swallow+sunning.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIQ44Hvl8LXX7mnRRR5VTU3QQo-vZkS90Bqvpw3pp0FmX4yDCa2DykbfPGzoTpdYI7s-bwhhlHlcwTIJL_J3V95ipeELtA3EX4iSjB7jT2mt6brJ4Ysh5iT71tIq_i84bhB3259gbmM8/w640-h480/Juvenile+Barn+Swallow+sunning.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A juvenile Barn Swallow suns itself in the parking area. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Remarkably, Craig took the images for today's post with a small, point-and-shoot camera, without benefit of the larger equipment he had years ago, which most wildlife photographers use.</span></span><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Wiley Slough is located south of Mount Vernon and somewhat off the beaten track,
so we typically encounter just a few people. Easy-to-walk gravel
paths are also perfect for mobility scooters. Another 'check' in the
plus column.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"There are moments when only the breeze rustling through underbrush and trees can be heard," Craig said. </span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuBAX5nKvuMzgsjxsg57jNA-VwbpZwtQ1LfeUCKT0tNlJ0GDTOM_LdFjwb5Ay2h7izcYTnau_zjZPVhQhyiFHAfDtMC3DqdBHuDiD0Mako9oLrwkA9smgDFWefRgIeM1SuL4M_3zfS3c/s2000/Three+juvenile+GBH+100+yard+out.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1348" data-original-width="2000" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuBAX5nKvuMzgsjxsg57jNA-VwbpZwtQ1LfeUCKT0tNlJ0GDTOM_LdFjwb5Ay2h7izcYTnau_zjZPVhQhyiFHAfDtMC3DqdBHuDiD0Mako9oLrwkA9smgDFWefRgIeM1SuL4M_3zfS3c/w640-h432/Three+juvenile+GBH+100+yard+out.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Three juvenile Great Blue Heron rest after foraging in the slough. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson.</i><br /></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgPkr1fAOcWcD9gHXgBwuD0Z_1_eQOo7DjrR5WNhdBXuYz5AFbt-rzmh_RA3XYEMFiSTJeGmTT2E_copkIfua5_yFJuqpZoCyV80w7U_9lOAB2wfioZEqA2AiJle8t8GEwRYekqGpNu8/s2000/American+Bittern.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2000" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgPkr1fAOcWcD9gHXgBwuD0Z_1_eQOo7DjrR5WNhdBXuYz5AFbt-rzmh_RA3XYEMFiSTJeGmTT2E_copkIfua5_yFJuqpZoCyV80w7U_9lOAB2wfioZEqA2AiJle8t8GEwRYekqGpNu8/w640-h384/American+Bittern.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">American Bittern, <i>copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i></span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Bucolic
settings are breathtaking, but what lurks in the cattails is nothing
short of captivating. Joy and I talked birds, including American Bitterns, with an older couple. All the while, a bittern was just feet away, out
of our sight until I spotted it.</span></span></div><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutpHrufyqyGRC3YU4hZzBgZfi2jVrfrtqxFOM6gs3r6b6D30yAyQ0TK_wd3j-HGSQDWk4hflbO_80WuhD2PMiPFKWF1_wghhlK0qSQXzNAhyZCXVc7eWrf0KZFPfmm984VcSuyZc5EnA/s2000/Warblers.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1241" data-original-width="2000" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutpHrufyqyGRC3YU4hZzBgZfi2jVrfrtqxFOM6gs3r6b6D30yAyQ0TK_wd3j-HGSQDWk4hflbO_80WuhD2PMiPFKWF1_wghhlK0qSQXzNAhyZCXVc7eWrf0KZFPfmm984VcSuyZc5EnA/w640-h398/Warblers.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Common Yellowthroat and Yellow Warblers belt out thier songs as we journey down the entrance path. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson<br /></i></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9tBjNUaWCdHPY58P9P4sWakyLuQhh2kO61d7I1SQrRuST_7y4iC2bag9xovQABtNkxiH4wpi8qtvVXpo_q_9XuT9pvlzF1nNk6Fpowoj5JycksvMyBzs_2Ug-dpzoDuvKMI2Booe7Jo/s2000/Warbling+Vireo+and+Pacific-slope+Flycatcher.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1285" data-original-width="2000" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9tBjNUaWCdHPY58P9P4sWakyLuQhh2kO61d7I1SQrRuST_7y4iC2bag9xovQABtNkxiH4wpi8qtvVXpo_q_9XuT9pvlzF1nNk6Fpowoj5JycksvMyBzs_2Ug-dpzoDuvKMI2Booe7Jo/w640-h412/Warbling+Vireo+and+Pacific-slope+Flycatcher.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson<br /></b></i></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Before
leaving, I noticed activity in the underbrush near our car and
witnessed a Warbling Vireo singing and a Pacific-slope Flycatcher
hawking insects. What an exciting place!</span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I always stop to talk to fellow birders and Joy joins in.
On one occasion, an older woman walking her terrier shared how
distressed she was at the loss of bird habitat just to save salmon! She
clearly loves birds as we do."</span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNC6nP8kmQXRBpzyKFLnzKUYaPHTqLLqvo0H33BeIYdCNrvt5tWxEUkuEIDiRKWOL6x0V3NBT6yqevjmF6JBZDb_d2fj64Ppm62-SXXz0ZSHJ1VukFUQ8DLfmikoMI-o0_-lBhyphenhyphenlkNw8/s2000/View+from+path.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="2000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNC6nP8kmQXRBpzyKFLnzKUYaPHTqLLqvo0H33BeIYdCNrvt5tWxEUkuEIDiRKWOL6x0V3NBT6yqevjmF6JBZDb_d2fj64Ppm62-SXXz0ZSHJ1VukFUQ8DLfmikoMI-o0_-lBhyphenhyphenlkNw8/w640-h360/View+from+path.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Wiley Slough. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i></span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #a40803; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;"></span></span></span><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">“</span><span style="font-family: times;">Have you seen anything of interest,” I asked an older gentleman who was clearly a birder. Turns out he has lived in the Skagit Valley since 1941, and is a biologist and educator, and is good friends with Dennis Paulson.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Bob Hamlin created educational bird videos and had much to say about Wiley Slough. He felt the King Salmon recovery project was not thought out, and valuable habitat for nearly 250 avian species was lost without achieving success.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1yn2aDR9KS_hZNRKCyzcyGOV5RAjh9-uehtJaoF4jQak-NzRIdM5-pHlaT8XUcA8AQrdgCzJ0bc31SR1bfJ3anb3V-OwS9-ketAWfrHjir61WekjwUQy1mKKE8tH1GH5uBiqXt_A4Ww/s2048/Gone+fishing.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1yn2aDR9KS_hZNRKCyzcyGOV5RAjh9-uehtJaoF4jQak-NzRIdM5-pHlaT8XUcA8AQrdgCzJ0bc31SR1bfJ3anb3V-OwS9-ketAWfrHjir61WekjwUQy1mKKE8tH1GH5uBiqXt_A4Ww/w640-h480/Gone+fishing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The adult female, or “mom” River Otter was catching one fish after another, while her three offspring watched and tried taking the fish from of her mouth, which she allowed. It was a bad day for the sculpin pictured in the upper two images. "</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">A Great Blue Heron was keeping pace with the otter," Craig said. "Very exciting to witness. Hard to capture the action with this camera.</span> Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i><br /></b></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br />"Too many predators and not enough places for fish to hide is just one of the problems.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"We asked Bob why all the trees were cut -- topped short -- throughout the area. He replied 'for insurance purposes.' Apparently, the trees would be a liability to hunters. It is still a fabulous location as we all looked at Long-billed Dowitchers in number.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;">"Of course, salmon are a keystone species, so while initial losses were
substantial, long-term benefit should be worth the costs," Craig said. "Other fish
species will also benefit.</span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3e5P_lz21g-H4tJjSRK-hPgQatnJM7Bi-zLjqvhw3Lnc8AsLGwfwMken2D1S_QIrtNN1iLpwZLUvN-mBg9vbUKMa6Le4jEj0G_iUdUlNvVmnzhToPzCeR61vgvw4wIkZLYHD3bKXXyY/s2000/Green+Heron.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="2000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3e5P_lz21g-H4tJjSRK-hPgQatnJM7Bi-zLjqvhw3Lnc8AsLGwfwMken2D1S_QIrtNN1iLpwZLUvN-mBg9vbUKMa6Le4jEj0G_iUdUlNvVmnzhToPzCeR61vgvw4wIkZLYHD3bKXXyY/w640-h360/Green+Heron.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Easy-to-access riparian habitat attracts secretive birds, such as the Green Heron. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;">"Wiley
Slough Estuary Restoration Project was constructed in summer 2010," Craig said.
"Installation of native plants took place in winter 2010 – 2011. </span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;">"By 2019,
project partners, including NOAA</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">,
had seen success in efforts toward Chinook salmon recovery in the
Skagit River estuary, but much more work is needed to achieve population
recovery goals.</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Monitoring is ongoing."</span></span></span></div></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #a40803; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></b><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="2000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt1RHLPxmQJntDWHnrZnwtnVY7OSGauxW2PgDj1c7hytB4XjL8hj5r0zzvk61yrGyfKbiYoJwHBjOPDVtimcyJT1lyCubzl88ByB3fLktdTvSt2DABeeyenb5KOlJ-XnZLSZBtYHcOkyg/w640-h360/Three+juvenile+Heron+at+a+distance.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Two Bald Eagles perch on the snag at center. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson<br /></i></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt1RHLPxmQJntDWHnrZnwtnVY7OSGauxW2PgDj1c7hytB4XjL8hj5r0zzvk61yrGyfKbiYoJwHBjOPDVtimcyJT1lyCubzl88ByB3fLktdTvSt2DABeeyenb5KOlJ-XnZLSZBtYHcOkyg/s2000/Three+juvenile+Heron+at+a+distance.jpg"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span></span></span><span style="background-color: black;"><span></span></span></a></i></b></span></span></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72T2kNbqOD0IspaUTmwUvfM4O6ew9Dd-DEq6jDytVvLRK7S6dDm-z3LDAsWcW-UxwcLkfzlrxpyGBbm5VCBaoE9_qNyFnb06fhKs61JirFOYXHyZVDGHDEgEaDGwYdvNBQcjOrVwq0Rc/s2048/Bald+Eagles.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72T2kNbqOD0IspaUTmwUvfM4O6ew9Dd-DEq6jDytVvLRK7S6dDm-z3LDAsWcW-UxwcLkfzlrxpyGBbm5VCBaoE9_qNyFnb06fhKs61JirFOYXHyZVDGHDEgEaDGwYdvNBQcjOrVwq0Rc/w640-h480/Bald+Eagles.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson<br /></span></span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Despite a blistering, record-breaking heatwave, a pair of Bald Eagles managed to raise offspring without the benefit of shade. This expansive area's numerous snags provide excellent lookout posts for adults, while serving as closely-spaced landing platforms for fledgling eagles."</span></span></div></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdS_gbhT3yq47bSHd5XnW6sMYD0KtYOBAyu5vKBGWAWN9pldzr0UMuYsGi2F2CyUxtXKqApSrl_bPHFnkCDU501OeE2H1TJNf49K9A2Jud_b4G9ET9UcknKK4MWA6YUezDBRBG19b4l0/s2000/Long-billed+Dowitchers+foraging.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1320" data-original-width="2000" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdS_gbhT3yq47bSHd5XnW6sMYD0KtYOBAyu5vKBGWAWN9pldzr0UMuYsGi2F2CyUxtXKqApSrl_bPHFnkCDU501OeE2H1TJNf49K9A2Jud_b4G9ET9UcknKK4MWA6YUezDBRBG19b4l0/w640-h422/Long-billed+Dowitchers+foraging.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Long-billed Dowitchers. </span></span><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</span></span></i></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9DPeqzGG418YqEpXOI9rTa8NJ_HrmGShnsEmmR0oYCsCwY7m823tHe3RUvYBE_8zgisbKtC0QVf5VTC_9srX7lSYe3bw5PFGf2ogwbkHtm4qhDtzkj7kkBQYGyaX2gzKgFddHHvYvziU/s2000/Least+Sandpipers+and+a+Killdeer.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1264" data-original-width="2000" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9DPeqzGG418YqEpXOI9rTa8NJ_HrmGShnsEmmR0oYCsCwY7m823tHe3RUvYBE_8zgisbKtC0QVf5VTC_9srX7lSYe3bw5PFGf2ogwbkHtm4qhDtzkj7kkBQYGyaX2gzKgFddHHvYvziU/w640-h404/Least+Sandpipers+and+a+Killdeer.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Least Sandpipers. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Shorebirds are close to our hearts and were a treat to see foraging along the slough's edges. It’s nothing like Crockett Lake, but wonderful to watch these migratory birds, even if in small number."</span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_bW-48Ay8hP8aVpLuCC-ms6nZrPyY6vSrNb1RH7HyWMcPUvbA6YgZGHxKgldGcx0dENY70hyphenhyphenhnk3895k04m1B6xdT7yY2StUKD8DC5ZYBoiWt6igwye2CIlEXS_t-ExPLrFzOUCxBFo/s1194/Screen+Shot+2021-07-25+at+5.17.34+AM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="952" data-original-width="1194" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_bW-48Ay8hP8aVpLuCC-ms6nZrPyY6vSrNb1RH7HyWMcPUvbA6YgZGHxKgldGcx0dENY70hyphenhyphenhnk3895k04m1B6xdT7yY2StUKD8DC5ZYBoiWt6igwye2CIlEXS_t-ExPLrFzOUCxBFo/w640-h510/Screen+Shot+2021-07-25+at+5.17.34+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Wiley Slough is the darker green area to the left of center. <i>Google Maps</i></b></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span></div></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Wiley Slough is located south of Mount Vernon in Skagit County. Go west from the freeway and turn right onto Fir Island Road, following the sign for Conway/La Conner. In 1.8 miles, turn left onto Wylie Road and follow for 1 mile to a T-intersection and a Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife sign. Turn left and follow the signs to either of the two parking lots.</span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFkpOL67CM95eBBS9gNRJ2JO7t1KS42neckjNc5hV8kB46gVcuj14zrJA06QCZXkRtzIB0EAALE0R4CXX4IemtBgAzyE2fi1JTzJ6YqSHAV3UBJ0r5L56Ar50cV9mn3gXav23AUuLyUA/s2000/Black+Phoebe.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1282" data-original-width="2000" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFkpOL67CM95eBBS9gNRJ2JO7t1KS42neckjNc5hV8kB46gVcuj14zrJA06QCZXkRtzIB0EAALE0R4CXX4IemtBgAzyE2fi1JTzJ6YqSHAV3UBJ0r5L56Ar50cV9mn3gXav23AUuLyUA/w640-h410/Black+Phoebe.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Black Phoebe were able to raise young, as illustrated by this juvenile in an alder near the parking area. This species is not typically found this far north and has attracted many birders for some time. <i>Copyright 2021 Craig Johnson</i></span><br /></b></div></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> </span></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTku5-5DTukIJOZO6f_E1PVh4010GDUBuf0PtkjVbRXXqGy8gDhhXa9-ImNoHMMc1N5BuZWiJ2FdmNa0I86BYyQpHh5JKUGcRqGNiK2VysuMugottX2AIKkF3L2ZNSuUDin1Z0-uPyw6o/s2016/IMG_0494.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTku5-5DTukIJOZO6f_E1PVh4010GDUBuf0PtkjVbRXXqGy8gDhhXa9-ImNoHMMc1N5BuZWiJ2FdmNa0I86BYyQpHh5JKUGcRqGNiK2VysuMugottX2AIKkF3L2ZNSuUDin1Z0-uPyw6o/w480-h640/IMG_0494.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Meg Olson photo</span></span></b></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Jann Ledbetter's cards </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">If you liked Jann Ledbetter's wildlife photography in last week's blog, you might like her greeting cards. Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville carries a selection of seven, </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">"and they're beautiful,"</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> I'm told by shop owner Meg Olson<i><b>.</b></i> </span></span></span> <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPrXgKOX41TXdqPQiyrJX3tt3Mg9ejf-FkUvJdVR2rv4KKo3RYcVk4lNOjK8R-ruf3qPnHs_z3M0-ABjQFQJjJndBOskOxjEt-t5OPkkR6F3P45HsCClJea47YKpCSa6FccScUkzLBoM/s640/image0.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPrXgKOX41TXdqPQiyrJX3tt3Mg9ejf-FkUvJdVR2rv4KKo3RYcVk4lNOjK8R-ruf3qPnHs_z3M0-ABjQFQJjJndBOskOxjEt-t5OPkkR6F3P45HsCClJea47YKpCSa6FccScUkzLBoM/w640-h480/image0.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>"Wheat, to be honest, is my favorite," Jennifer writes.</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Skagit Valley Crop Tour </span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span></span></span></h1></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"As I’ve been taking Henry on lots of walks lately, I have gathered for you a tour of the crops on our road," writes my daughter, Jennifer. Somehow, she understands the emotional connection I feel to the farm fields, having grown up in the Skagit Valley. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">As with many valley kids, my first job was as a child laborer and it wasn't glamorous. It seemed lucrative at the time, for someone who'd never earned a nickel that wasn't part of his allowance. I picked strawberries in the hot sun, and sometimes weeded with a hoe. My straw hat itched furiously. I received a hole-punch in my card for each "carrier" I picked (six boxes), which translated to thirty-five cents.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">That's a lot of picking to earn a dollar. <br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Because I was a rising star among child laborers, I was also trusted to help load the truck for the trip to the frozen foods plant. This seemed prestigious as I watched the other kids sweat on their hands-and-knees on the ground. But back to Jennifer.<br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"These fields all lie in a one-mile stretch," Jennifer writes. "It’s a curious thing to live amongst farmlands. Each season you never know what you’re gonna get, though one can bet on the usual suspects."</span> </span></span></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;" /></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoz855jlz-8c-VDU_8V86c00hTKHBzko2k6-DTd4UP5nmDnDJUGE3-jLQKuM5d70kE7mWULsJ_9kiIUFVt2ejRenKFQtTFHTY86CTcVz5ihkYoZX9tL47XPZwxIpzlkg59tyONbBrQCk/s640/image1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoz855jlz-8c-VDU_8V86c00hTKHBzko2k6-DTd4UP5nmDnDJUGE3-jLQKuM5d70kE7mWULsJ_9kiIUFVt2ejRenKFQtTFHTY86CTcVz5ihkYoZX9tL47XPZwxIpzlkg59tyONbBrQCk/w640-h480/image1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"The corn field."</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z77kiLCTDoUvZPHth9GhHcqf79dZwodQJxOv0iYe7dneLmTyv5HDX0bSpQX-k_RN9PV6Tg_g-qhLrkpslscbhNsudYsSs4udA9yion2IGfvhiGcwGlpG-iaqzJN2fsoN1R5yM4oHiU8/s640/image2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z77kiLCTDoUvZPHth9GhHcqf79dZwodQJxOv0iYe7dneLmTyv5HDX0bSpQX-k_RN9PV6Tg_g-qhLrkpslscbhNsudYsSs4udA9yion2IGfvhiGcwGlpG-iaqzJN2fsoN1R5yM4oHiU8/w640-h480/image2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"The valley staple, of course -- potatoes."<br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pkQQ6YpYgWRe0AekfGJIGzP2-R9saj6loA4MlKrnmcewt09-Cbch3tIz4tj0Z8px0OdlEtWg_VHexn6_17XPV1OJ24QWPSDKsSVhA_ViMQApNGBUTE0LM0vnU5Fst12uipjUgTewcOs/s640/image5.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pkQQ6YpYgWRe0AekfGJIGzP2-R9saj6loA4MlKrnmcewt09-Cbch3tIz4tj0Z8px0OdlEtWg_VHexn6_17XPV1OJ24QWPSDKsSVhA_ViMQApNGBUTE0LM0vnU5Fst12uipjUgTewcOs/w640-h480/image5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"A cabbage -- we think Brussels Sprouts.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yaCeQt8ukmh02Sj7uEUaU-HH5xtQeEjzgccjWgF6g3bUNrBwz60Yf585tInPEDHpfIeaMG5NECj7NEyGx8WRgDd4Bneq7zWtgaH6_o0uw-6LYvzD4qKyX4LbROB1OWWOAGKS-foflsU/s640/image8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yaCeQt8ukmh02Sj7uEUaU-HH5xtQeEjzgccjWgF6g3bUNrBwz60Yf585tInPEDHpfIeaMG5NECj7NEyGx8WRgDd4Bneq7zWtgaH6_o0uw-6LYvzD4qKyX4LbROB1OWWOAGKS-foflsU/w640-h480/image8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3JSaJ0GLA4gvw7zs4KchdEQA6DACC4rl4RLbyIqmTdCZAbe26vDh-q9cq2DHqXlTpnShyphenhyphenenEU9IP_G8zBhKa8xemCpZtYl9PFL2CO-_bMuCO6n7tH7kyl01OyWTzwXzpEUUGoTnJs2c/s640/image7.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3JSaJ0GLA4gvw7zs4KchdEQA6DACC4rl4RLbyIqmTdCZAbe26vDh-q9cq2DHqXlTpnShyphenhyphenenEU9IP_G8zBhKa8xemCpZtYl9PFL2CO-_bMuCO6n7tH7kyl01OyWTzwXzpEUUGoTnJs2c/w640-h480/image7.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"Corn-fed beef, a new addition this year."</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXluSsB79kbqKl4OLeiJdjisa38l1FsWPEA35Cwbl6FOpgse9uHAbMUNxH7eIvlNIdETA_QwwBpnIWhmO9Ls9co7M4dl1uqeQrWvUFU6JVvL859FyVZV_Yq33zYphoiMMtIbNeuTWoKc8/s4032/image6.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXluSsB79kbqKl4OLeiJdjisa38l1FsWPEA35Cwbl6FOpgse9uHAbMUNxH7eIvlNIdETA_QwwBpnIWhmO9Ls9co7M4dl1uqeQrWvUFU6JVvL859FyVZV_Yq33zYphoiMMtIbNeuTWoKc8/w640-h480/image6.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"This one is still a bit young for us to tell from the road -- a young cabbage, perhaps."<br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Just Another Close Call<br /></span></span></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I was coasting into Greenbank the other day, decelerating for the 35 mile-per-hour zone, when a tiny fawn stepped onto the highway in front of me. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I jammed the brakes and felt the car skid as I steered behind the fawn, and missed it by mere feet. Everything on the seat beside me went flying to the floor. My heart was thumping but at least I did not kill the fawn. I never saw its mother, but she was there -- probably having crossed first, probably with one other fawn, since two newborns is a typical family. But I was worried that in missing fawn number one, I might be dropping my guard just as fawn number two would start across.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Fawn number one continued across the highway and across the oncoming lanes, which were clear. Fawn number two never appeared.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Thankfully, no one was riding my bumper. If someone had been tailgating me, they would have been blindsided and enraged at my unexpected action and, probably, would have rear-ended me.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Wildlife are common -- not <i>un</i>common -- on our island roads this time of year, and I watch the shoulders ahead as I drive.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Many drivers blast through Greenbank and other speed zones on Highway 535. Some try to force the car ahead of them to go faster by getting way too close. I try really hard to maintain the posted limit, but also respect the reduced-speed zones, which are many. If someone is pressing me, I look for a good place to pull over and let them go on their way.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">A couple days after the fawn incident, on the same stretch of highway, I saw brake lights ahead, and slowed as a precaution rather than rush up behind the slowing cars. This was in a 55-mph zone, where many drivers are trying to make time, rather than play it safe. Left turns wreak havoc with the flow, and I assumed one of the cars ahead was doing that. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">My caution was warranted, because it turned out a dog was trotting toward me on the centerline, confused, blocking traffic in both directions. At the risk of human life, good samaritans pulled to a stop on the shoulder and crossed into the traffic lanes to rescue the dog from danger.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I rarely make the Langley-to-Coupeville run without one or two drivers roaring past me to show how much faster they can go. I catch up to them at the next traffic light, or bottled up behind a long string of slow cars. The point is, there's little to be gained by rushing, but everything to lose if they hit a dog, deer, bicyclist or pedestrian.</span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> <b> </b></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. </span></span><br /></div></div><p></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-69636207306358213962021-07-24T00:00:00.001-07:002021-07-24T00:02:04.318-07:00462 -- An Abundant Week in Nature<p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmmA5cWan3Z_CMZcMgs7TFzILRrru8d9f7UMIdjlt_KxsUmZLbd8a-YkV98Pfw_67SB9XhwnS9cdw27mE-y2BFfxsydbA5M7x3ml7-r3XQz1RzC_9WKO_VV_3HSu_Lg10AygDtmr9k_U/s1280/IMG_0379.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="1280" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmmA5cWan3Z_CMZcMgs7TFzILRrru8d9f7UMIdjlt_KxsUmZLbd8a-YkV98Pfw_67SB9XhwnS9cdw27mE-y2BFfxsydbA5M7x3ml7-r3XQz1RzC_9WKO_VV_3HSu_Lg10AygDtmr9k_U/w640-h494/IMG_0379.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Coyote photographed through double-pane window. <i>Pedersen photos</i></span></b></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Most weeks, I work ahead on this blog, since I never know what complications will get thrown at me by changes in my medical schedule. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This week I had the blog all buttoned down nicely with some exquisite photography by Jann Ledbetter (keep reading for that). Then, Friday morning, this coyote presented itself outside my window. I've been watching this coyote off-and-on for several weeks as it paid many visits to our inner garden and front yard.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXP6Auut3sjS6XYdUHwTIb-7HfhzqU7cGsqpq3Gs_cOGgM8QRukBrbbMCnGlbQjYdfF50wd3JGrWi2NUnabRgzDybwozLuUSUVgCMqZfuSyGw01oKLU2W9GJKqt7kGf0DMt7SUgLqf_wU/s1280/IMG_0380.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXP6Auut3sjS6XYdUHwTIb-7HfhzqU7cGsqpq3Gs_cOGgM8QRukBrbbMCnGlbQjYdfF50wd3JGrWi2NUnabRgzDybwozLuUSUVgCMqZfuSyGw01oKLU2W9GJKqt7kGf0DMt7SUgLqf_wU/w640-h428/IMG_0380.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpyxmqkul-tLVfeh4WrRtCNyI63PzxoQYMoMoYemIPKlBk93uLdgdecVZ1Juq3MQb-qP8cgSNamf6Ody2iYk1rWLcnbYjjUBDNP6n5WUYxJVUE8LtZKtIni-yFNZNv8EkFvyJkQH-cxI/s945/IMG_0386.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="945" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpyxmqkul-tLVfeh4WrRtCNyI63PzxoQYMoMoYemIPKlBk93uLdgdecVZ1Juq3MQb-qP8cgSNamf6Ody2iYk1rWLcnbYjjUBDNP6n5WUYxJVUE8LtZKtIni-yFNZNv8EkFvyJkQH-cxI/w640-h336/IMG_0386.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I felt an adrenaline rush -- just like old times when I did more photography. I scrambled for my disused 400 zoom camera on the other side of the room, sure that my efforts were futile. The coyote had seen me move and would be long gone by the time I got back to the window. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">And sure enough, when I got back with the camera it had vanished -- another missed opportunity. But while I sat there with the camera in my hands, it came back! I raised the camera to position, held the heavy lens steady and pushed the shutter.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nothing! My camera was dead -- the battery drained. I tried and tried to coax a miracle from the last bit of battery -- to get the camera to auto-focus -- and it just wasn't waking up. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">By this time, the coyote and I were watching each other intently through the glass, and I'm sure the canine was thinking it was time to leave. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then, at the last second, the camera came to life and I got several images before the coyote trotted away.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lQaNTaHQUewg3gQvhL8AytBMrz0RR3lBObwMZEBQdw7f9swg9iopIdqU7eNpZ8sw46BbJgtKKA9FESgVtFDA4kGrsH9YrxEG-EBVVo3lAMepHKPVd3zPlL1QFb2kd2SfoZY-TWS_Pwc/s1024/IMG_0377.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="1024" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lQaNTaHQUewg3gQvhL8AytBMrz0RR3lBObwMZEBQdw7f9swg9iopIdqU7eNpZ8sw46BbJgtKKA9FESgVtFDA4kGrsH9YrxEG-EBVVo3lAMepHKPVd3zPlL1QFb2kd2SfoZY-TWS_Pwc/w640-h442/IMG_0377.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The coyote was probably hunting for rabbits, of which we have an abundance. But I also observed it stand up and strip some leaves off one of our plum trees. Sue investigated later and found a plum on the ground with a broken skin. We're calling that tooth marks.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was one of those weeks when nature was making its presence felt everywhere I turned.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsagI5_Tn2g0guybxgvEE-zAQbTR4z6vgbYhanxOUuLySY-FOeguprHa5uJsEUVkWQYGUE_r7rQecnsj306DLb27dBYj9clJLTIqBsQqnNG2-vXytrK0f7SkkIrSLY3mGOpvCOZbpcZo/s644/IMG_1573+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="644" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsagI5_Tn2g0guybxgvEE-zAQbTR4z6vgbYhanxOUuLySY-FOeguprHa5uJsEUVkWQYGUE_r7rQecnsj306DLb27dBYj9clJLTIqBsQqnNG2-vXytrK0f7SkkIrSLY3mGOpvCOZbpcZo/w640-h490/IMG_1573+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My hospital companion. <i>Pedersen photo</i></b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">My Comfort Animal<br /></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I
had a companion Tuesday as I received a blood transfusion at our
Whidbey hospital. Deer and other wildlife love the narrow strip of
landscaping next to the outpatient clinic. The deer take naps or browse
on vegetation, and recently one gave birth to a fawn beside the window while
the patients and nurses watched.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>The
nurses were all talking and sharing cell-phone pictures of an "albino deer" that had visited the
window, but albinism is rare, and I'm guessing it was a leucistic or
piebald deer. A true albino has no dark pigmentation anywhere, including
the eyes.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I
haven't kept count of what I've watched from those windows, but whole
families of quail are my top favorite. I've also watched American Robins
pull worms from the earth, and an assortment of Spotted Towhees,
hummingbirds, White-crowned Sparrows, butterflies and dragonflies. Not a
bad show while you wait.</span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cz2QYGeGp8ALsLSioxvVa7qfwmZV4BsGxwTbbRcfP9Mb9B26pVKftRyBaT60sXbcv964BMyJPAF8opqBvSSOUc4ag_g9bY1gtQ-W5QOy7wDtfZJ2u6zBYDfA6nx0sK76guCSf3wDmwk/s206/193635298_10226905771209132_542927992298423894_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="206" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cz2QYGeGp8ALsLSioxvVa7qfwmZV4BsGxwTbbRcfP9Mb9B26pVKftRyBaT60sXbcv964BMyJPAF8opqBvSSOUc4ag_g9bY1gtQ-W5QOy7wDtfZJ2u6zBYDfA6nx0sK76guCSf3wDmwk/w640-h640/193635298_10226905771209132_542927992298423894_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">A male Anna's Hummingbird hovers next to flowers in Jann Ledbetter's yard. The Annas are year-round residents of Puget Sound, unlike the migrating Rufous Hummingbirds that breed here in the spring and summer. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Jann Ledbetter's Photography</span><br /></h1><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Whenever I need to think about something beautiful and wholesome, I turn to the wildlife photography of Jann Ledbetter of Coupeville. It has been a few months since I last shared Jann's photography here, and she has been finding some new gems with her camera.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Spring and summer are a glorious time of rebirth in nature, and they go quickly. The days are full of opportunities for photographers. The wildlife are finely attuned to the changing hours of daylight, the annual banquet of insect life, and the need to act quickly to bring the next generation into the world. </span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCV4LyczDWZSe7slTnPQrTJqtNVYestC4htxxpVSMKe6a0-5Ylt1GnXas4iDodohrvnbYCOUeIF3SaziaioqEjqLCDJ9FEleavBquS-KXNeeFwoQcjxztE4R2HChqQti_w1xgkT1namU/s1600/202125156_10227039426430429_2246369006704735295_n-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCV4LyczDWZSe7slTnPQrTJqtNVYestC4htxxpVSMKe6a0-5Ylt1GnXas4iDodohrvnbYCOUeIF3SaziaioqEjqLCDJ9FEleavBquS-KXNeeFwoQcjxztE4R2HChqQti_w1xgkT1namU/w640-h640/202125156_10227039426430429_2246369006704735295_n-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Jann got this exquisite image in late June. </span><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">"My hummingbirds love to play in the fountains, especially when the sun is
low," she said. "I was thrilled to catch this one backlit and with its silhouette
shadow showing through the wing!"</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For
some birds, the weeks they spend in Puget Sound are part of an annual
cycle in which they migrate hundreds, even thousands, of miles from the
tropics to the Arctic.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tWuY3bdrVIt75uRUGI8XoRSnTKY68aEQKibNusLCBbThb7NFTCGYpm8ZWwOiaGQ1l4-Gn9s-NxcrgsN2_AdUpHD5CDdCMxNk_o-143EeBoeMTxezyqpLHOq0XaBtAd2m20_CwWCz0Qg/s1080/jann+ledbetter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tWuY3bdrVIt75uRUGI8XoRSnTKY68aEQKibNusLCBbThb7NFTCGYpm8ZWwOiaGQ1l4-Gn9s-NxcrgsN2_AdUpHD5CDdCMxNk_o-143EeBoeMTxezyqpLHOq0XaBtAd2m20_CwWCz0Qg/w640-h640/jann+ledbetter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</span></b></i></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In photography, light isn't one thing but everything. At the risk of too many hummingbird images, I couldn't resist including this silhouette Jann got June 27, "at the end of a red-hot day." This was during our record heatwave.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Arghhhhh! I can still feel that heat!<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto" lang="en">"This is practically straight out of the camera," Jann said at the time. "What a sky! And it's still going strong!"</span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8BK6ND_SeFxgKRWrO67jNuVTji21QgJ3QG4GdrnJelHwKLvNGmmKgKQh4Ygu1TZeiBHap4shfyhINdhyphenhyphenPm-VuWGSoXQLjjhklj3O6cd4vCaWxg9TaALRz-U4IYVPpWIGzXK5oE4SWm4/s1600/217909063_10227186477706619_2597550021439525026_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8BK6ND_SeFxgKRWrO67jNuVTji21QgJ3QG4GdrnJelHwKLvNGmmKgKQh4Ygu1TZeiBHap4shfyhINdhyphenhyphenPm-VuWGSoXQLjjhklj3O6cd4vCaWxg9TaALRz-U4IYVPpWIGzXK5oE4SWm4/w640-h640/217909063_10227186477706619_2597550021439525026_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</b></i></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But enough orange. Jann also found some green. Nobody takes pictures of frogs -- they're easy to overlook compared to, say, a Bald Eagle -- but Jann's eye misses little when she's out with her camera.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I admit I cannot look at this frog's goofy smile without smiling, myself.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I am no expert but believe this a Bullfrog, an invasive species. If it were the native Pacific Tree Frog, it should have a sharply-defined black mask from the tip of its snout to its shoulder, running through the eye socket. Here's what the Washington Department of Wildlife says about bullfrogs:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Bullfrogs tolerate polluted and muddy waters better than do most native
frogs, and may be found within cities in wetlands, reservoirs, and
stormwater ponds...</i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Adult bullfrogs and tadpoles overwinter in mud on the bottom of ponds
and other bodies of water. They hibernate by burying themselves in
surface mud or by digging cave-like holes underwater. Adults also
hibernate on land near ponds where they bury themselves within the soil.
Their body temperature may drop virtually to the freezing point, and
their hearts slow so drastically they seem to atop altogether. But they
continue to absorb oxygen through their moist skin, and when their
surroundings thaw, they emerge into the spring sunshine to resume their
business of catching insects and other prey.</i></span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>
</i></span></span><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Adult bullfrogs usually are "sit and wait" predators that readily
attack almost any live animal smaller than themselves—insects, frogs,
tadpoles, fish, small snakes, turtle hatchlings, newts, salamanders,
bats, hummingbirds, and ducklings. Bullfrogs use their sticky tongues to
subdue prey, but that's not their only method of securing food. Large
frogs are more likely to lunge at their targets. Once they get a grip
with their wide, sturdy jaws, they use their front feet to shove the
items down their gullets.</i></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3T6njewYDFbratWnq46AF_pVe7nWx5T4w8jUHm11tfv5zf8oIwOMgyyYcaNDtQaP6LWGwh8UFbaiiYL5xpAH152Fa1qofA-sirOpz0cYOP4nVYNkuFgfj7wwezmVbpFpZgu4_FhwMtA/s1600/214061788_10227180207549869_8111922669512674125_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3T6njewYDFbratWnq46AF_pVe7nWx5T4w8jUHm11tfv5zf8oIwOMgyyYcaNDtQaP6LWGwh8UFbaiiYL5xpAH152Fa1qofA-sirOpz0cYOP4nVYNkuFgfj7wwezmVbpFpZgu4_FhwMtA/w640-h640/214061788_10227180207549869_8111922669512674125_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>An Osprey delivers a frog to the nest. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter.</i></b></span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But the life of a lazy frog can be short and exciting. The very next day, Jann photographed an Osprey delivering a frog to the young in its nest.</span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Continuation
of an unintentional frog theme," she said. "I'd have preferred a fish, but the frog is what
showed up."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBG5qV3BNWsjJ-6Jgsc2Kd2EXuwErpnHKoeCJ4wqeRYGl8WTnUDbEUCroAp775-M_Nvd8_qCr7MbEuSbiDp8nxXFlfNSbcWLCNptcfmkILI-d3d-yBPe5M05FDlsTE6fbFqaTzRj0iPM/s1600/213359885_10227166961098716_7374545224761145340_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBG5qV3BNWsjJ-6Jgsc2Kd2EXuwErpnHKoeCJ4wqeRYGl8WTnUDbEUCroAp775-M_Nvd8_qCr7MbEuSbiDp8nxXFlfNSbcWLCNptcfmkILI-d3d-yBPe5M05FDlsTE6fbFqaTzRj0iPM/w640-h426/213359885_10227166961098716_7374545224761145340_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter<br /></span></i></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span><b><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span></span></span></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Ospreys
do much of their hunting in the shallows near shore, but build their
nests a bit inland, often on microwave towers, so Jann was lucky to find
a nest in a tree.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"<span style="font-family: times;">I watched as both parents worked together to care for the Osprey chicks
in this nest," Jann said. "I liked this photo because it gives some perspective to
the size and complexity of this Osprey nest."</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;">When an Osprey catches a fish for its young, it must
often labor to carry the meal some distance back to the nest, clutching
it in its talons.<span> </span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">At the end of June, Jann was lucky to come upon this Tufted Puffin, surely one of the most unusual and colorful marine birds to visit waters off the Whidbey shoreline in the summertime. Puffins are sometimes seen near Smith and Minor islands, off the west side of Whidbey Island, by passengers aboard whale-watching boats.<br /></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDrso_eXiN6xzxZHcFhucnf4cxfRwRyPU5SpG-OhUgz3osJojZKCOkUJipPMGLQkzkSOV1oDJ29vfoEKDAimfOO4LgQ0Actci1okPD5tkQ9GzGQADJFEkVgrFqbXSkf2zGd2xJ0pMGPI/s1600/Tufted+Puffin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDrso_eXiN6xzxZHcFhucnf4cxfRwRyPU5SpG-OhUgz3osJojZKCOkUJipPMGLQkzkSOV1oDJ29vfoEKDAimfOO4LgQ0Actci1okPD5tkQ9GzGQADJFEkVgrFqbXSkf2zGd2xJ0pMGPI/w640-h426/Tufted+Puffin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Tufted Puffin, <i>copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</i></span><br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">"It's
always a GREAT day when a Tufted Puffin</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"> shows up in front of my lens</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">, all decked out in its breeding
plumage ...but even better when the light
is perfect! The multiple reflection ripple was another bonus!"</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">About Puffins, BirdWeb explains:</span></span></span></span><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>They nest in burrows at the edges of cliffs, on grassy slopes, or in
natural crevices in rocks. The pair spends a great deal of time
preparing the nest site, excavating the burrow with their bills and
feet. The burrow is 2-7 feet long with a nest chamber at the end. This
chamber may be lined with grass or feathers, or sometimes nothing at
all. </i></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Digging the nest burrow is a time-consuming job, and the birds most
likely do not breed in the season in which they dig the burrow, but
wait until the following year. When the pair finally breeds, the female
lays one egg, which both parents incubate for 6-1/2 to 7-1/2 weeks. Both
parents care for the young for another 6-7 weeks, after which time the
fledgling leaves its burrow at night and moves to sea. Most young birds
are not yet capable of flight at this time, so they walk, or flutter to
sea, without parental aid.</i></span> <br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNi-kpCnL7Z-WHM6Go1gEV-X5naSPiFyK196IKAx9PV7Q6kFmUVRzKif06lPrGe2nAvj4pDg4n8yggbNBEqFlVcpiTpl0wYW0C4_7UCESs76wJOr-qba0_377VlBbrhcyb5_SYVOef2rM/s960/217650960_10227196318712638_3987521480698706712_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="960" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNi-kpCnL7Z-WHM6Go1gEV-X5naSPiFyK196IKAx9PV7Q6kFmUVRzKif06lPrGe2nAvj4pDg4n8yggbNBEqFlVcpiTpl0wYW0C4_7UCESs76wJOr-qba0_377VlBbrhcyb5_SYVOef2rM/w640-h530/217650960_10227196318712638_3987521480698706712_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Elk, <i>copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></b></span><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Every so often, large mammals from the mainland, such as bears and elk, swim to Whidbey Island and look around for a while. For years we've had one resident elk, Bruiser, on north Whidbey. The elk in this picture Jann took in mid-July is much younger, and was photographed off-island.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Despite
the pressures of development, Whidbey Island still has diverse natural
habitats including forests, fields, prairies and wetlands. These are the
places Jann watches to photograph wildlife. The wild birds, mammals,
amphibians and other creatures are a big part of our quality of life. If
the island were nothing but pavement, cars and houses, it would be no
different than anywhere else.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This morning, as I worked on this blog, I listened to a spirited conversation between two Great-horned Owls outside my window, and was reminded again how much the wildlife add to my day. Activity in our yard is ever-changing and I never know what will walk past my window.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Many of the</span></span></span> migrating Rufous Hummingbirds have already left to follow the blooming flowers northward and then south again along the Rocky Mountain corridor. Our gorgeous Violet-green Swallows successfully raised another brood in the nest box they use every year and have also disappeared from our yard.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Life goes on, and it's good.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_hzwV7iTZQbQYYN-wsT66EaC8Z3RI3uZoxzIPOjXD0IPRwoiS-C8yNGnDGBTvnXlzHGbvKYllfm660XZHhmw7l__BD9mA2HqVDljXf8i_uOHgQ5KZwCLeOUleOV3aA5bchUvNof8lPo/s2048/DSC_2225.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1314" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_hzwV7iTZQbQYYN-wsT66EaC8Z3RI3uZoxzIPOjXD0IPRwoiS-C8yNGnDGBTvnXlzHGbvKYllfm660XZHhmw7l__BD9mA2HqVDljXf8i_uOHgQ5KZwCLeOUleOV3aA5bchUvNof8lPo/w410-h640/DSC_2225.jpg" width="410" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-Hqe1k4VRSfffuUjLQLNeo6fUPriVjk1qrorWW8YBnKcxdw2Lpxhp1gDWtulwKdVlOVE6PUb0IxFxh-bbDlzT1Y02z3xjsvNkxsmtCigGKN0Ydv-ES11tGrKAH1UN2UU5jNLq47aEJY/s2048/DSC_2228.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1339" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-Hqe1k4VRSfffuUjLQLNeo6fUPriVjk1qrorWW8YBnKcxdw2Lpxhp1gDWtulwKdVlOVE6PUb0IxFxh-bbDlzT1Y02z3xjsvNkxsmtCigGKN0Ydv-ES11tGrKAH1UN2UU5jNLq47aEJY/w418-h640/DSC_2228.jpg" width="418" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Photos copyright 2021 Ken Pickle</span></b></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Fledgling Pileated Woodpecker</span><br /></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The show is pretty good in Edmonds, too, where Ken Pickle has been keeping an eye on a fledgling Pileated Woodpecker. This is the largest and loudest of the five species of woodpeckers we have in our area, and was one of my first big discoveries after moving to the woods.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"The dad pileated was on the suet feeder while junior waited," Ken said. "Unfortunately, they moved into the shadow when dad flew over, so I
didn’t get a shot of the dad feeding junior." </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZMM-HWCLJGX01_iotdZL2grt7sSMGJzHj-moDKlEGMcdN7gkcLk7snCaV2WtPNIxfziaPbmxxKI7zESONspqu_4LPBJthgzrYHgTWkankdGLKmorYWTXYvzvDoMGXht4c4JdCq1nlfc/s724/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+8.04.40+AM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="475" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZMM-HWCLJGX01_iotdZL2grt7sSMGJzHj-moDKlEGMcdN7gkcLk7snCaV2WtPNIxfziaPbmxxKI7zESONspqu_4LPBJthgzrYHgTWkankdGLKmorYWTXYvzvDoMGXht4c4JdCq1nlfc/w420-h640/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+8.04.40+AM.jpg" width="420" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><i>Outdoorsy Male</i> </b><br /></span></span></span></h1><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">This week brought a nice compliment about <i>Outdoorsy Male, </i>my collection of short stories with Duncan on the cover.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I restarted </span></i><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Outdoorsy Male.</span><i><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> I knew I liked the book, but rereading it, I love it. Those are incredible stories. They are crisp, poignant, heartfelt and wonderful. I wish you had written more short stories. I think the second time around I view them knowing you a little better. So they are even more personal.</span></i> <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Outdoorsy Male</i> is available from <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/" target="_blank">Kingfisher Bookstore</a> in Coupeville and also <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Outdoorsy-Male-Short-Stories-Essays/dp/1533557373/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">online from Amazon</a> books, in paperback or Kindle. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxedTvoV_4j2kuJLMXjBJFlH82T02mh9YuraznVo2gD4IV3HPK4GvsQuaUVJevGHNiAw0xzJICvACRlEnrfUf7ZuUw1IU2rAb81izIdPwiHoNAm5hHAxUhohq_Bfyn3MLwIxIzhq-8h1U/s1440/101578448_2992423884126075_3676830332834807808_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxedTvoV_4j2kuJLMXjBJFlH82T02mh9YuraznVo2gD4IV3HPK4GvsQuaUVJevGHNiAw0xzJICvACRlEnrfUf7ZuUw1IU2rAb81izIdPwiHoNAm5hHAxUhohq_Bfyn3MLwIxIzhq-8h1U/w640-h640/101578448_2992423884126075_3676830332834807808_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Kingfisher Bookstore, from Facebook</span><br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I'm getting good reports from readers who have ordered autographed copies of my books from Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville. Here's a recent comment:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I did order <i>Final Descent</i> and <i>Final Reunion</i> from Kingfisher Books. Very
easy process, thank you. I will treasure them. I had them mailed because
I didn't want to wait until I arrived in WA in middle of August." </span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> <b> </b></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. </span></span><br /></div><p></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-17791406051689469412021-07-17T00:30:00.033-07:002021-07-17T03:06:03.598-07:00461 -- Finding Inspiration<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i></i></span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJT83EH0ESbK9ShlVxY8bOWOjg0L57Aw0OjD4sOBe37rqim5HpN8k43VctkvVw7aJW0E3MRrExNtbVeQjctOWEhv-qqoggY1FU30PhcvOEJcxt_AxySRBxB8Ja1AnKYedFQsguYQI1pA/s640/Front%252Bcover.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJT83EH0ESbK9ShlVxY8bOWOjg0L57Aw0OjD4sOBe37rqim5HpN8k43VctkvVw7aJW0E3MRrExNtbVeQjctOWEhv-qqoggY1FU30PhcvOEJcxt_AxySRBxB8Ja1AnKYedFQsguYQI1pA/w640-h429/Front%252Bcover.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>The MV Kennicott crosses to Whidbey Island from Port Townsend on a winter day. I drew inspiration for my mystery, Final Impulse, from this scene. <i>Copyright 2021 Dan Pedersen</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></i></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>"</span></span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I finished your latest book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><i>(Final Cover-Up)</i></a> and loved it," a friend wrote this week. "I was tired and just picked it up, thinking I'd read for half-an-hour. Hours later, I was done. I couldn't put it down. I fell in love with the characters. By the way, I still think my favorite book was the one with the Russian bride <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Impulse-Mystery-Whidbey-Island/dp/169576790X" target="_blank"><i>(Final Impulse)</i>.</a>" </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I can't disagree, because I loved Nadya Komaresch, too, the Russian bride in <i>Final Impulse</i>. She's a straight-shooter whose English does not contain many articles (such as "a" and "the").<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>
<i><span>"You are flawed man,
George King, who has trouble telling truth, but for as long as I stay with you,
I expect no less. If you lie to me, there will be hell to pay." She focused an
intense stare at him and tapped him hard in the chest with a pointed finger.</span>
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{page:Section1;}</i></style><i> </i></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Writing is solitary, so a note from a happy reader makes my day after the hours of working alone and wondering if my efforts were any good. I'll have more to say about<i> Final Cover-Up </i>in a moment, but first, a little more about <i>Final Impulse,</i> the "Russian bride book" and the scene in the photograph, which inspired it<i>.</i></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>*<br /></span></span></span></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Shane Lindstrom stood in
the forward lounge of the state ferry MV Kennewick, hypnotized by big
snowflakes rushing at the glass. In this furious snowstorm, it was hard to say
where sky ended and sea began... The water
was flat and gray, leaving them all but blind as the boat felt its way across
the shipping channel of Admiralty Inlet. </span></span></span></i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Impulse-Mystery-Whidbey-Island/dp/169576790X" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>--Final Impulse</span></span></span></a>
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{page:Section1;}</style></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>*</span></span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>I had an experience like that one fall afternoon as my ferry felt its way</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span> in a whiteout</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span> toward Whidbey Island. Below me, generators whined steadily as they pushed our old steel-electric ferryboat across Puget Sound toward the invisible shore of home.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>I've had the good fortune to live in a beautiful place, and the island's beauty has inspired my books. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>My snowy ferryboat ride happened on a Thanksgiving eve, as offices in the city were evacuating ahead of a major winter storm. After an icy, white-knuckle drive on Interstate 5, I reached Mukilteo. Now, gliding through the storm in the snow, I knew I'd make it the rest of the way to the peaceful refuge of home.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>I never forgot that surreal crossing, and used it when I wrote my eighth mystery, <i>Final Impulse. </i>In the comfort of the ferryboat's forward lounge that Thanksgiving eve, I could not have been more relaxed. I imagine the captain could not have been more anxious about hazards seen and unseen. Readers constantly ask, "How much of this really happened to you?"<br /><i></i></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>A lot. I don't know how many times I've ridden the ferry over the decades, but thousands. My crossing was to Mukilteo, but my favorite crossing has always been the Port Townsend-to-Keystone run. I've spent many hours walking the backshore at Keystone Spit with several of our dogs, and it's where I've had my best sightings of birds.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>All writers collect stories, and my thoughts are full of them after more than three decades on the island. The landscape's beauty inspires me, as do the possibilities for intrigue. <br /></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimImWo14c3SJ75RoV64sgX4IgbQgp-h1wvfy4mX37O0INaHqeguSq0vQyjD94m-So0p-2WRB9Cmh3siVH_Wd4J6oLcUmVnTZ11BSBsgNa9WVNMBOeG6GdTFJgGQN4Um76WFVNQvIHLBnw/s2048/p.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimImWo14c3SJ75RoV64sgX4IgbQgp-h1wvfy4mX37O0INaHqeguSq0vQyjD94m-So0p-2WRB9Cmh3siVH_Wd4J6oLcUmVnTZ11BSBsgNa9WVNMBOeG6GdTFJgGQN4Um76WFVNQvIHLBnw/w640-h426/p.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Jack Hartt photo -- the front cover of Final Remains</i></b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span></span></i></span></span><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span>In the foamy surf at the toe of the bluff,
something lavender-and-white caught Nadya Komaresch’s eye. </span>
<span>With each advance of the frothy surf, the object
scooted higher up the beach. Then, as the water receded, it ran part way back
to the sea. It played in the waves, turning lengthwise, then broadside,
tumbling upside down, rolling and stopping right side up. </span></i><span>--Final Remain</span><span>s</span><i><span><br /></span></i></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span>* <br /></span></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>I love the moods and mystery of the shore, and no stretch of Whidbey Island's coast is prettier than Ebey's Landing. With thousands of other people over the generations, I've walked there in all conditions, exhilarated by its wild beauty. I needed a setting for my ninth mystery, and, when I saw Jack Hartt's stunning photograph, I knew this was it. Human feet in athletic shoes have been washing ashore on Salish Sea beaches for decades. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>Did a foot really wash up at Ebey's Landing? No, but it could have. Feet have been found at many other beaches around Puget Sound and British Columbia. The question that hangs over all these discoveries is whose feet? What is their story? My protagonist, Sheriff's Deputy Katarina Brown, is determined to find the answers, and her search takes her in some surprising directions.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>And just for fun, I had </span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>Nadya Komaresch discover </span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>the foot. She's the Russian mail-order bride whom readers met in <i>Final Impulse. </i><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>To add a little twist to <i>Final Remains</i>, I brought in a foot expert, Dr. Salvadore Pucci, who suffers from face-blindness, an affliction I know well because I've got it. The scene where he struggles to recognize an old friend is as real as it gets -- almost exactly as it happened to me. Does it sound like I made this up? Google it.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>My stories are all a mix of fantasy and personal experience. It's part of the fun of writing and leaves friends guessing. "Is this real?" </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>Well, it could be. I had fun in <i>Final Remains</i> taking the reader to several other places I know well.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYVLXncZRss-LLmDevp03ueIEMEOjtUNfIQ4x9rxskUY4E1QBycVsiQKHu6DGWKcz_4XnnzwYqcQDwkFK3rfV5D9Bh60kqMl2LvSCH36AtmbV8dr5C2_6he1V9ruA74FXOt4Dzbmi4CI/s670/Double+Bluff+and+Mt+Rainier+-+Pedersen.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="670" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYVLXncZRss-LLmDevp03ueIEMEOjtUNfIQ4x9rxskUY4E1QBycVsiQKHu6DGWKcz_4XnnzwYqcQDwkFK3rfV5D9Bh60kqMl2LvSCH36AtmbV8dr5C2_6he1V9ruA74FXOt4Dzbmi4CI/w640-h464/Double+Bluff+and+Mt+Rainier+-+Pedersen.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Mount Rainer dominates the horizon at Double Bluff Reach. Just to the right of the people, one of the downtown Seattle office towers is visible. <i>Copyright 2021 Dan Pedersen</i></span><br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>My eighth mystery, <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Final-Reunion-Murder-Useless-Bay/dp/B08GG2RL14/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Reunion+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1602862775&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><i>Final Reunion, </i></a>opens with discovery of a body one summer morning at Double Bluff Beach on Useless Bay, not far from my home. I've walked there more times than at any other beach on the island, studying what washed ashore. Double Bluff is a local secret, an immensely popular, sandy beach where locals walk their dogs or just themselves for fresh air and exercise. Where better to find a body?</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><i>Final Reunion</i> is my take on high school class reunions. I admit high school was torture for me. In <i>Final Reunion,</i> several members of the fictional Useless Bay High School class of 1965 turn up dead. Of course, the question is why?</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjDEy7fn9otaKXtVT-wpDqR3CASBHqozkwfqWXWKDjHci1RNY-x036xDwkhyphenhyphen47RjJrx-K8hgHEroK8NAKeEioEeUxKbB534lLaFWy8cZv-TVYg4hLds5CMkWTxAhPvAdeNUs9Td7QqNY/s900/IMG_4250+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="900" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjDEy7fn9otaKXtVT-wpDqR3CASBHqozkwfqWXWKDjHci1RNY-x036xDwkhyphenhyphen47RjJrx-K8hgHEroK8NAKeEioEeUxKbB534lLaFWy8cZv-TVYg4hLds5CMkWTxAhPvAdeNUs9Td7QqNY/w640-h414/IMG_4250+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>The Salmon River and village of Stanley, Idaho, with the snowcapped Sawtooth Mountains behind. <i>Copyright 2021 Dan Pedersen</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Robert and Marie look down at Galena Pass from the pressurized comfort of
the six-place turboprop. A tangle of jagged, snowcapped mountains stretches to
the horizon on their right and left, but ahead their eyes are focused on a
lush, broad valley.
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">“We’re over the headwaters
of the Salmon River,” the pilot announces over their headsets. “It starts right
below us as a tiny stream and grows rapidly to a raging river. It flows right
through the middle of the state into the Snake and Columbia, and empties into
the ocean at Astoria, Oregon. If you look in the distance, you can make out the
little village of Stanley.</span></i></span><i>" </i><span style="font-family: times;">--Final Escape</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">* <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In my third mystery, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths" target="_blank"><i>Final Escape, </i></a>the story leaves the island to take readers to one of my favorite places on Earth, the little village of Stanley in the Salmon River country of Central Idaho. I wrote it just after returning from there a few years ago, where I met a friend who likes snakes. That's all I'm going to say, but if you read it, I hope you enjoy the surprises, as well as the scenery.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6AMtKQ7aHIZ8cWbT6k5wfyGFrDFLmJBS-ptmZ37b95gP8p-EcR0S5_Xn36A0E5CNMJAWlo8KXEFXhQdKr5PXyZFIMl3OVBeHWW3nRvAnl4B_jZxT6e_krfI7R0Xf8899P0Pcca7hcY4/s2048/IMG_8406.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6AMtKQ7aHIZ8cWbT6k5wfyGFrDFLmJBS-ptmZ37b95gP8p-EcR0S5_Xn36A0E5CNMJAWlo8KXEFXhQdKr5PXyZFIMl3OVBeHWW3nRvAnl4B_jZxT6e_krfI7R0Xf8899P0Pcca7hcY4/w640-h426/IMG_8406.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>The Skagit Peoples buried many of their dead at Crooked Spit, the remnants of which are seen here, looking back toward Oak Harbor from the far side of the bay. <i>Copyright 2021 Dan Pedersen</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>
<i><span>Golden grasses shimmered in the summer breeze.
Here and there, clusters of oak trees spread their broad canopies over the
savannah. Meadowlarks sang and pecked at the ground for insects. Butterflies
fluttered among tiny wildflowers, and a Blacktail doe and her two spotted fawns
grazed in the dappled shade of the leafy canopy. --</span></i><span>Final Cover-Up</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span>*</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span>I've visualized that same scene on many trips to Oak Harbor's Old Town. The city's shoreline was quite different just two centuries ago, before settlers and later the Navy filled wetlands and dredged a prominent sand spit. Salish culture once thrived on this beautiful bay. Today, planners are taking some steps to bring nature back, reclaiming the bay's heritage and its lost beauty. The result is a shoreline that is healthful and restorative for walkers and joggers.<br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>In my tenth novel, <i>Final Cover-Up</i>, I speculated on what would give someone a motive to murder a prominent local activist and attempt to disguise his remains as a Salish burial.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>In all my books, I try to share insights that will be new to the reader, as well as my love of nature and wildlife. All my books are available, autographed, from <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/" target="_blank">Kingfisher Bookstore</a> in Coupeville. In addition, they may be purchased in Kindle or paperback from Amazon. Here are the Amazon links:</span></span></span></span></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Deception</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Passage</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Passage-Mysteries-Whidbey/dp/B08GFPM936/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Deception+and+Final+Passage&qid=1626275267&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Final Deception and Final Passage</a></span> (combined volume)<br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Passage-Mysteries-Whidbey/dp/B08GFPM936/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Deception+and+Final+Passage&qid=1626275267&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Escape</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Justice</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Pursuit</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Impulse-Mystery-Whidbey-Island/dp/169576790X" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Impulse</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B084DD8XJM?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860" target="_blank">Final Descent</a> <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Final-Reunion-Murder-Useless-Bay/dp/B08GG2RL14/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Reunion+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1602862775&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Reunion</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains%2C+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1604948070&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span>Final Remains</span></span></span></span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Final Cover-Up</a> <br /></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I wish you good reading.</span></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: times;"><b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
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and the collection of user-data.</span></span>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-56836585723961112292021-07-10T00:30:00.050-07:002021-07-10T00:55:51.183-07:00460 - Taking Stock<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMksqbjgEK72uP6ga2PPrCPjvS0G-BYg0lVaItI3Rlb2yiYnt4iFN8cBF-SzEQrycSa4_fqm5HgeV4rNJzCxlcHnpl2I9bGgzzjJUlBYmcwwGK25vXFIXw3vRyIX9NiV6yuYCkpkaDFE/s1280/IMG_0703+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="1280" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMksqbjgEK72uP6ga2PPrCPjvS0G-BYg0lVaItI3Rlb2yiYnt4iFN8cBF-SzEQrycSa4_fqm5HgeV4rNJzCxlcHnpl2I9bGgzzjJUlBYmcwwGK25vXFIXw3vRyIX9NiV6yuYCkpkaDFE/w640-h444/IMG_0703+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Sue Van Etten photo<br /></i></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I have to laugh at this photograph because it shows how the pandemic changed our sensitivity to personal space. That's my daughter, Jennifer, and me, visiting </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">last weekend </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">for the first time in more than a year. Well, at least I summoned the courage to take off my mask in the summer breeze.</span></span><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">So much can change in two years. We last saw each other face-to-face the summer before the pandemic. We had kept in touch for decades, getting together from time to time, but the pre-pandemic visit was especially meaningful. We were both hungry to talk that day and it was a magical afternoon. My health had something to do with taking stock of our lives, but not all. Since then, at a distance, we continued to grow closer, even while the pandemic kept us apart.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> Jennifer is now older than I was when I became her dad. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I suspect our story is much like that of other families -- of relationships interrupted or changed by events no one foresaw.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhquRLlRRDa6sHF6Q5gzpGgNXotYhS4y5-CbzYZtCo2d_UR-CZs3oidZeixRmG7QIsSjk5T25BHNQHd5ALdPS2aJ1xqJ0w9i0afNJyZWUD0znuUKuyKmcLVBTJ9w4gRy1gBUTjFP2gQ2mQ/s1280/IMG_1539+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="1280" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhquRLlRRDa6sHF6Q5gzpGgNXotYhS4y5-CbzYZtCo2d_UR-CZs3oidZeixRmG7QIsSjk5T25BHNQHd5ALdPS2aJ1xqJ0w9i0afNJyZWUD0znuUKuyKmcLVBTJ9w4gRy1gBUTjFP2gQ2mQ/w640-h420/IMG_1539+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Jennifer, Sue and Nudge visit in the shade of the Katsura trees. </span></b><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Pedersen photos<br /></span></b></i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Jennifer was a teenager when I married </span>her mom. What could be more alien for a first-time dad than a teenager? But when I thought about it from her perspective, acquiring a new dad in her teen years must have been equally unsettling for her -- uncharted territory. It went surprisingly well -- we both did okay. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">By the time my marriage to her mom ended, Jennifer was in college and living on her own, and our lives were busy, but we did stay in touch. She's now the mother of two teenagers of her own. For her family, the year of covid isolation came at a time when her daughters would normally be flexing their wings -- bonding with friends and pulling away from home to develop the independent temperaments, interests and personalities that would guide the rest of their lives. The pandemic kept us all home. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemk-0CXLIUB11V811cRC2dTEWDzSzKY6JgUjGBiBiAEsJyk2IuikAVL7VtwP_EHbhUWn4epHYQhupjUOZz0ZNwAwmmqjf_y2tIFnO3vsmotFfp-8yKcK_Xlay_xDuTVgzS2mgSpaiOkA/s1222/IMG_1545+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1222" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemk-0CXLIUB11V811cRC2dTEWDzSzKY6JgUjGBiBiAEsJyk2IuikAVL7VtwP_EHbhUWn4epHYQhupjUOZz0ZNwAwmmqjf_y2tIFnO3vsmotFfp-8yKcK_Xlay_xDuTVgzS2mgSpaiOkA/w640-h450/IMG_1545+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Sue Van Etten photo<br /></span></span></i></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Visiting with Jennifer last weeked, I gained a better appreciation of the challenges parents navigated in 2020 -- so different from anything I knew in my seven decades.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The generations flow so fast. Jennifer's mom and I are almost out of the picture. Her children will soon step into those adult roles for themselves, bringing with them everything they learned from watching their parents be parents.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We aren't free of covid yet, but thanks to the vaccines, we are tiptoeing closer to something more normal. Jennifer's daughters, and all of us, are reemerging into the physical world. That's even scarier for me than some others because I'm a recluse by nature and also immuno-compromised.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As we approached our reunion last Saturday, I wondered what we would talk about. The conversation ended up being wide-ranging and philosophical. Perhaps this isn't surprising, because, as we grow older, we develop new perspective and life-experience. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We reviewed the years we spent together in one household -- she as a teenager and I as a step-dad who didn't want to get it wrong. My parenting experience could not have been less. But I think all parents are figuring it out as they go, doing the best they can, and responding to developments they could never foresee.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">A surprising theme of our conversation was the pain we both feel at the divisions in our country. Compared to the life we knew as children, this is a polarized world, and we wish we were bringing children into a more cohesive society where the values were clearer and the future brighter. We've seen some people shift their thinking toward the idea that it's okay to take, by violence and force, what they can't get by democracy.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My own childhood classmates have long been a microcosm of these divisions and differences. What strikes me is that despite the chasm in politics, religion and culture, we school mates remain deeply caring about one another's welfare. That's the irony -- we are pulled together and pushed apart by life at the same time. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4rjLIlnYFPys4hbYE27kvCQ6L4dib6PJO_lmTaJAZr5qtpPM-5HqoAbd_31_no_c1UaQx2cE_lNsrlAm11X8lbuZ7mqGjS05bAomFt9oy6NKV9EFEazSyoYb7V3Jewr6O15kkYYu-Ig/s613/Screen%252BShot%252B2016-05-23%252Bat%252B4.50.28%252BPM+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="613" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4rjLIlnYFPys4hbYE27kvCQ6L4dib6PJO_lmTaJAZr5qtpPM-5HqoAbd_31_no_c1UaQx2cE_lNsrlAm11X8lbuZ7mqGjS05bAomFt9oy6NKV9EFEazSyoYb7V3Jewr6O15kkYYu-Ig/w640-h430/Screen%252BShot%252B2016-05-23%252Bat%252B4.50.28%252BPM+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">How do we come to think of our fellow humans as mortal enemies, but remain charitable toward our classmates? I wish only good things for all these kids, who are now in their seventies. BTW, since I know readers will scrutinize this picture, I'm the shrimp in the middle of the back row.</span><br /></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Having started our journey together, knowing one another since childhood, we are much kinder and more forgiving than we would ever be of our fellow man in the abstract. We all took different roads, did the best we could, and are generous people. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">So why are we so eager to label those with different views as enemies, sorting ourselves into tribes that are intolerant and unforgiving of outsiders, and yet so much more charitable toward classmates we know personally? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the recent capitol insurrection we saw how shockingly easy it is to kill people we don't know and save the remorse for later. Since then, we've learned the personal stories of those who died -- the stories of their families, dreams, pain and struggles. They were no different than the rest of us.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In this blog I have tried to speak to our better instincts -- the values and qualities that are universal, as opposed to those that drive us apart. No one has all the answers. The more firmly we believe we do, the likelier we are to be wrong. Too much dogmatism about our own righteousness is a screaming sign of insecurity. It is wise to approach truth with some humility and willingness to listen.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The hate, of which we've seen much, is fanned by interests that require conflict to build their power and influence. We are manipulated by TV personalities, politicians, lobbyists and foreign governments who reinforce what we want to hear, whether or not it is based in truth. Their agendas have little to do with humanity. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's so easy to hide behind the cowardly distance of social media and post a meme on Facebook that vilifies other people as sub-human, but we must get beyond this thinking to be a caring, compassionate society like my kindergarten class.</span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Yes, I Can Count, But Not Very Well</span></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Two readers pointed out this week that the numbering of my blogs went haywire recently and jumped ahead about 100. I had written post 449 and then jumped to 550.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Oops, this is embarrassing. Math was never my strength, which is why I became a writer as opposed to, say, an astrophysicist. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I went back and erased the evidence, and renumbered those posts, and now let's all agree it never happened. But keep an eye on me, and if I write you a check, take a close look at the numbers.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXP-2aVZMfCFhxTUv1j0nwCU1iM10NXWb7bKCRMx8gykBuJzc3sCuvuz95GL8S8q_oMWNIepRHUTVcZAK8vt9W9MVe0cBRMoAnOSATrN5v5OaXJVYuf-W1ArlNtUStOLs0Og22v8tv6g/s1280/IMG_0665+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="988" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXP-2aVZMfCFhxTUv1j0nwCU1iM10NXWb7bKCRMx8gykBuJzc3sCuvuz95GL8S8q_oMWNIepRHUTVcZAK8vt9W9MVe0cBRMoAnOSATrN5v5OaXJVYuf-W1ArlNtUStOLs0Og22v8tv6g/w494-h640/IMG_0665+%25281%2529.jpg" width="494" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Dan, Joe and Nudge. <i>Sue Van Etten photo</i></b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">More Socialization</span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jennifer's visit came on the heels of another post-pandemic visit. It was from my brother Joe, whom I had not seen in several years. For the most part, I haven't felt well enough this year to enjoy visits, and of course it has only been recently that my visitors have been fully-vaccinated, and the weather warm enough to let us sit outside comfortably in the fresh air. It has been a joy, at last, to catch up with those closest to me.<br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> <b> </b></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: times;"><b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></span><br />Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-80800065655447521322021-07-03T00:30:00.614-07:002021-07-03T16:06:58.119-07:00459 -- The New Guy<p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaK8rhUj026wbm4jmhvI4_VKGuqZzpnCtkSs0TOVtEuTsJscU8aLjXJT0LgJTyjNaI3dYr-dG-sdH1m3TKIaToz7ngHber0oPae5tUtmekG6HsVHFqfem3wkINHMUkBMK6vUDDHJLXXwc/s1078/IMG_0655+%25283%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="1078" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaK8rhUj026wbm4jmhvI4_VKGuqZzpnCtkSs0TOVtEuTsJscU8aLjXJT0LgJTyjNaI3dYr-dG-sdH1m3TKIaToz7ngHber0oPae5tUtmekG6HsVHFqfem3wkINHMUkBMK6vUDDHJLXXwc/w640-h458/IMG_0655+%25283%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Nudge on his way home with Sue. For him, Wednesday was a very long day that started in Mexico, but his eyes were bright through it all. <i>Phyllis Ray photo</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I feel like I'm going to cry," said the UPS driver who showed up in our driveway, Friday. "I was having such a bad day and this makes it so much better."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Her remark sure changed how I think of package delivery. More about the reasons in a moment.<br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our household was transformed this week by the arrival of a new canine adoptee, Nudge. He comes to us from the Lake Chapala region of Mexico, near Guadalajara. He's been living with American expatriates, but my big question is, does he speak Spanish?</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I know he speaks English, because Sue asked him to sit and he did. Things are off to a good start.<br /></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nudge started life as a street dog but was rescued by a woman who opened her home to strays. Since her death a few months ago he has received excellent foster care from her friends, who were looking for a permanent home for him. In turn, my wife, Sue, was looking for a well-balanced dog with a gentle disposition to be her constant companion and walking partner. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxzAlXoIyKLG5LkYOaAngrNoTQY_lgAyyE_jm1eOmdj3s5vrsv06PzeUAPAt5gYbgUUIPWSbbW49N4tf6AN3JmgKN5T_ITe3-Dv2NBswlXPh3gMoivQW8tgyEKO99dAnTJHcVE57Pd4o/s925/IMG_0665+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="925" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxzAlXoIyKLG5LkYOaAngrNoTQY_lgAyyE_jm1eOmdj3s5vrsv06PzeUAPAt5gYbgUUIPWSbbW49N4tf6AN3JmgKN5T_ITe3-Dv2NBswlXPh3gMoivQW8tgyEKO99dAnTJHcVE57Pd4o/w640-h506/IMG_0665+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">She was also looking for a dog with a track record of living harmoniously with cats. Whether our cats are open to that arrangement, we will see, but so far all parties are conducting themselves with wise restraint and respect. Our cats were raised with dogs, so I think this will work. But the cats have had the rampaging run of the house since the death of our long-time canine companion, Duncan, in October.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I confess, I'm smiling that the cat police have arrived. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYM7IQYn4JFYQTBSqKDaDuBweH_qSrvClgepa6y-vcwYScEpj89kSeQIXDnTqg80VvE_9fI1geqmH1isq59K6G_PjgD0FQvFLNPcRLkoDfDlqjF7hkB36qk_2t1TcqNhJ0T_sKzfhFR3I/s1280/IMG_2051+-+Version+2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1280" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYM7IQYn4JFYQTBSqKDaDuBweH_qSrvClgepa6y-vcwYScEpj89kSeQIXDnTqg80VvE_9fI1geqmH1isq59K6G_PjgD0FQvFLNPcRLkoDfDlqjF7hkB36qk_2t1TcqNhJ0T_sKzfhFR3I/w640-h562/IMG_2051+-+Version+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b>Nudge's new housemates, Tom and Mimi.</b></span><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nudge flew to Seattle this week with 10 other dogs headed for new homes around Puget Sound and British Columbia. Beth Hinz, a volunteer for the rescue organization, met his plane and brought him to Mukilteo, where she handed him off to Sue for the ferryboat ride home to the island.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://bonevoyagedogrescue.com/who-we-are/" target="_blank">Bone Voyage</a> is a Mexico-based dog-rescue nonprofit that has sent more than 2,000 dogs north to new homes. Quoting their website: "</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We work with the local shelters and with people in the Lake Chapala area that have many street dogs in their care.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"We
also assist individuals that find street dogs and don’t know what to do
with them. We are all volunteers working together to try to minimize
the amount of homeless dogs in the area."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQNEsEZ-5RvnGYgHMqo2RKTo9hqdbH9yRwEfesrqdF205vdMyUyNLFQx_bXgWJW9_VGVoWSjchgWX7x0KrFJV0bWaWHU-p_jSD1kA9FmDkdyh02SQ0u8e5zqcVaUinbgC1kEBKhoObcA/s718/209474918_10157883665097414_7930314233828295028_n+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="718" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQNEsEZ-5RvnGYgHMqo2RKTo9hqdbH9yRwEfesrqdF205vdMyUyNLFQx_bXgWJW9_VGVoWSjchgWX7x0KrFJV0bWaWHU-p_jSD1kA9FmDkdyh02SQ0u8e5zqcVaUinbgC1kEBKhoObcA/w640-h540/209474918_10157883665097414_7930314233828295028_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Airport scene in Guadalajara for Bone Voyage Dog Rescue. Facebook photo</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The volunteers in Mexico do a heroic job of preparing the dogs, lining up crates, making sure the dogs' papers are in order, delivering them to the airport and shepherding them onto their flights. An equally-dedicated team meets the flight when it arrives in Seattle, "and they need more help," my wife says.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Airline policy requires a passenger to accompany the dogs to Seattle, so they have to come up with someone to travel with them, too. That person is known as a flight angel.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Putting all this together is a logistical jigsaw and a labor of love. Keep in mind, for every dog that flies north, an empty crate must also be shipped back to Mexico for use in the future. Apparently, there are about 250 crates in Seattle right now, awaiting transportation back.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEogZ4DBGa7RZYG0JSuaCmYODW0YJLSJelP-XHqs0s0zMFTtzGRI5EKjSZbJIWFOgoAN009P3ZTsxqRx4SjF0uSbvrAFmqIEXDzN8M7Ew9au_blCtTV6rkWLdCamjVgVxeCqEgfsvB7c8/s1280/IMG_0688+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1184" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEogZ4DBGa7RZYG0JSuaCmYODW0YJLSJelP-XHqs0s0zMFTtzGRI5EKjSZbJIWFOgoAN009P3ZTsxqRx4SjF0uSbvrAFmqIEXDzN8M7Ew9au_blCtTV6rkWLdCamjVgVxeCqEgfsvB7c8/w592-h640/IMG_0688+%25281%2529.jpg" width="592" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Nudge charms the UPS driver who delivered a whole box of refrigerated, fresh food. "I was having such a bad day and this makes it so much better," she said. <i>Sue Van Etten photo</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Jan Ambrose, who was caring for Nudge recently in her home in Mexico, commented, "</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">He’s one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever known. I will be sad but happy for him. I have no doubt his new owners will adore him."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">We do and I think the UPS driver would agree. Sue and Nudge were in the yard when the truck arrived. The driver made it halfway to the house with the box before Nudge intercepted her for some loving. Soon, Sue was filling her in on the remarkable story of how he came to be here, and the driver's eyes were growing misty. "He's so gentle," she said.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">By the way, we can tell Nudge likes the menu here. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Nudge is an island dog now, and I think will come to love the wide open spaces of home. He is the latest in a series of dogs who have filled our lives with smiles and love. They are forever part of us and this land, and Nudge now becomes part of their legacy. Here's a look back at the dogs who preceded him.</span></span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqO4spPUgsZkHyv8T8NJJ4nHP3l4FcUXJWUBnkDqeSDgmy4u6dcnLUlBZ1Zh33f5HsuPnNKVuySUl9WVwwDC2A_SWwQQ80o1jVUZRzXyQ7wgjZrrvRiTsbDj4g4LPf3oUaVaGacbL8Q4/s1280/Rocky+and+Sue+at+Keystone.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="970" data-original-width="1280" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqO4spPUgsZkHyv8T8NJJ4nHP3l4FcUXJWUBnkDqeSDgmy4u6dcnLUlBZ1Zh33f5HsuPnNKVuySUl9WVwwDC2A_SWwQQ80o1jVUZRzXyQ7wgjZrrvRiTsbDj4g4LPf3oUaVaGacbL8Q4/w640-h483/Rocky+and+Sue+at+Keystone.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Rocky and Sue at Keystone Spit.</b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpF-VMjo_fhXkJxrlDUX3ALH4Ca7GYBumZYddVRWm3ekxKj3cl14AOKuknVcUYBWi7ab5pLel2SpAvmdweKi5vVqEr480COmol8AdPqB3W5D_p_SC11vUNXt_6jZHFBD1-dbhQcx8wdQI/s2048/IMG_0726_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1544" data-original-width="2048" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpF-VMjo_fhXkJxrlDUX3ALH4Ca7GYBumZYddVRWm3ekxKj3cl14AOKuknVcUYBWi7ab5pLel2SpAvmdweKi5vVqEr480COmol8AdPqB3W5D_p_SC11vUNXt_6jZHFBD1-dbhQcx8wdQI/w640-h482/IMG_0726_2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Duncan</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrpH5uy4Y80w2Z2SKjzrKXw7bpGt-sUVvU8kVaRSkiGnhJUrdAUDLCT1F-Zhypr3SKHQepTX5v7QYoVVewVHZXQE9RlNNYIE_7UICfFy_rqfLs9g9BvHb45RcWx9w-8O7PqZKYAKEjto/s1280/IMG_0106+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrpH5uy4Y80w2Z2SKjzrKXw7bpGt-sUVvU8kVaRSkiGnhJUrdAUDLCT1F-Zhypr3SKHQepTX5v7QYoVVewVHZXQE9RlNNYIE_7UICfFy_rqfLs9g9BvHb45RcWx9w-8O7PqZKYAKEjto/w640-h428/IMG_0106+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Rocky in his element.</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span></span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><p></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5J5-syQkAe_GBe7a6NCAMkoEqjTnv_o3fmFt_YdM1yOXosNjGC2V53VfJaWbUWmBHuNGoIQkFK6CjF6mwnRXSgsJiyrlAJFAkeQ9XLyhjMbnf2yxwBBdm4ZWEFRJBsoiiMFdDao324QU/s400/Scan_3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="400" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5J5-syQkAe_GBe7a6NCAMkoEqjTnv_o3fmFt_YdM1yOXosNjGC2V53VfJaWbUWmBHuNGoIQkFK6CjF6mwnRXSgsJiyrlAJFAkeQ9XLyhjMbnf2yxwBBdm4ZWEFRJBsoiiMFdDao324QU/w640-h458/Scan_3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Sue with Casey, Daisy and Rocky as a puppy with big hair, at Ebey's Bluff.</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The global pandemic changed people's lifestyles and also the established routines of pet adoption. Travel ended overnight for many people. Others switched to working from home or reevaluated what they wanted from their lives and careers. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Having a dog suddenly became one of the best remaining options for companionship, and the shelters were quickly emptied of dogs. People like Sue began looking for dogs with adoption agencies overseas. The idea of adopting a dog from a foreign country suddenly became both imaginable and desirable.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's fair to say the pandemic changed us in ways we are still discovering.</span></span><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQHhgYJLCSNryb0duPvnhQVyMSv79IjZH7RIVa7W4NoOJsGT9uaIrSs0FCC8wHCnCrZy7w6g75nUJzg43VqfVvBKxWvC76BAd-yWh6IQpxpI18T654rm8UHBOYGWS0LaNPrzGrfFtI7E/s697/205230053_3648938401998165_3459254202364953835_n+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="697" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQHhgYJLCSNryb0duPvnhQVyMSv79IjZH7RIVa7W4NoOJsGT9uaIrSs0FCC8wHCnCrZy7w6g75nUJzg43VqfVvBKxWvC76BAd-yWh6IQpxpI18T654rm8UHBOYGWS0LaNPrzGrfFtI7E/w640-h484/205230053_3648938401998165_3459254202364953835_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My lifeline -- some of the doctors, nurses and staff of the oncology clinic.<i> </i>They are my heroes and friends. <i>Facebook photo courtesy Lisa Toomey</i></b><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>Recalibrating <br /></span></span></h1><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Readers who have followed this blog for some time know that, since April, I've been in treatment for leukemia. Many of you read between the lines, looking for some clue as to how it is going.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As of right now, there is nothing to report -- no sign of progress. It's a hard struggle and my focus is mostly on publishing the blog and introducing more readers to my mystery series. I spend a great deal of time in medical appointments at the outpatient oncology clinic at our hospital. The doctors and nurses there keep me alive from week to week, and that's no exaggeration. They do the same for many others as well -- some older than me, and some much younger. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">When I look at the others in the waiting room, it strikes me we are all coming to terms, privately and personally, with our mortality. We ask ourselves how hard should I fight? Is it worth the struggle, since we know how it will end anyway? Medical science can keep almost anyone alive, but at what cost to quality of life?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwnO1vu9ZWSlYl03XusV-iChJvG2yvnHXKurQEO9h-72Yx93UBc-f_XoZXsevh5CoMQkZ03OsbPzolO4BsV3wmBbz9ZjwfucytrCPHlOxR2KsPmKaFMNM6Sk1izWFJh0egE9INRh8Vlk/s2048/206341645_3653484444876894_298203055543783801_n-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwnO1vu9ZWSlYl03XusV-iChJvG2yvnHXKurQEO9h-72Yx93UBc-f_XoZXsevh5CoMQkZ03OsbPzolO4BsV3wmBbz9ZjwfucytrCPHlOxR2KsPmKaFMNM6Sk1izWFJh0egE9INRh8Vlk/w640-h480/206341645_3653484444876894_298203055543783801_n-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>More of my favorite people at Whidbey.<br /></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I thought these decisions would be easier to make, with bright lines of clarity, but the unknowns of treatment make them harder than I expected. My current treatment has a chance of working for a while, but the odds are less than 50:50. So I wonder when is enough, enough?<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I've had years to reflect on the various scenarios and prepare for what we all know -- that none of us lives forever. I've told myself I'm going to be strong and realistic when the time comes, and accept the inevitable with courage and humor. What I'm finding is that I'm still learning about myself and what's important to me, still reevaluating where to draw the lines.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">One thing I've learned is that writing keeps me going. It gives me a purpose, and it's hard to let go. Every life makes a difference. To whatever extent this is true for me, it has been through writing.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Friends have been very supportive, though their comments sometimes reflect how awkward the subject of death is for them, as well as me. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"You've got this!" some say with false bravado. If they knew what I know about the disease, they would not minimize it. Others say, "I hope you're feeling better every day," as if chronic illness were a cold. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It doesn't work that way. Two words that make me cringe are, "I hope ..." Those words put me in the position of having to say no, I'm not feeling better. I'd prefer they just ask, "How are you feeling?" and skip the hoping.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The most comforting friends simply listen and offer no predictions or advice. They understand it takes more than hope or bravado.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This week, as I finished a blood transfusion and walked out of the oncology unit, the nurses all chorused, "Bye, Dan. See you soon." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"We love you," one called after me.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">That's all anyone needs to say, and all the patient needs to hear.<br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> <b> </b></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
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and the collection of user-data.</span></span><br /></p></div>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-80315867339366685782021-06-26T00:30:00.354-07:002021-07-03T16:06:42.174-07:00458 -- I Still Get Goosebumps<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeizSxEyvY3usmq0bMNnywsQBbP3OqfaiY6WI9ogDuQHmEZsNuTCPl7QGTWahMBbAFmP6Ss6N6KYA2V5kkF_TG1305xMe87DWEroZUETkWwuIyK23OAom8E9sfygXvnSlufhCppoOzyLc/s1121/IMG_1671+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="1121" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeizSxEyvY3usmq0bMNnywsQBbP3OqfaiY6WI9ogDuQHmEZsNuTCPl7QGTWahMBbAFmP6Ss6N6KYA2V5kkF_TG1305xMe87DWEroZUETkWwuIyK23OAom8E9sfygXvnSlufhCppoOzyLc/w640-h446/IMG_1671+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">It's warming up -- Friday morning's sunrise.</span><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Joe Pedersen photo<br /></span></i></b></td></tr></tbody></table>As we prepare for record heat in Puget Sound this weekend, my brother, Joe, got a preview in Friday morning's sunrise. He took this photo from Camano Island. When I see a sky like this on a summer morning, I can guess what the day behind it is going to be.<br /> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">We've had an idyllic spring and summer on Whidbey Island -- cool nights and warm days. The grass is lush green. Flowers are blooming. The sheer beauty of nature gives me goosebumps.</span></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NaQx-_SKkoRce1opl-5BKr5r_HcoW1lN5BkX9WU1PBdyafr_VoGr0f2X2nBqCDkiteGenYJ41I9scq3XrYqNXLZKaov5R9HRM746JHUdMb6aWpeAYYrxQofj_ThQipK0pJlvyHMTnJ0/s2048/IMG_0636.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1208" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NaQx-_SKkoRce1opl-5BKr5r_HcoW1lN5BkX9WU1PBdyafr_VoGr0f2X2nBqCDkiteGenYJ41I9scq3XrYqNXLZKaov5R9HRM746JHUdMb6aWpeAYYrxQofj_ThQipK0pJlvyHMTnJ0/w378-h640/IMG_0636.jpg" width="378" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i>Sue Van Etten photo</i></b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My wife, Sue, was gardening this week when this handsome buck sauntered through the yard a few feet from her. The deer don't pretend to mind us anymore. I suppose they wonder what we're doing in their garden.</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> This has been their home for thousands of years. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Meanwhile, we're raising the next generation of baby birds -- Chickadees -- in the nest box by the back door, and enough cottontail rabbits to populate the moon. Every morning I awaken to the musical song of Swainson's Thrushes all around me. The birdsong seems to start a little after 4 a.m.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGx87DXMMitorltFEOa_CiR4cROaqhZl8LgJP84mF_uC6kw_w_hTrialu7SD-SMylGFNr4pprtFv5GTSuYFCQQ1OQ_kit_2qivxfTj7MbWvU5kX2qfMDwwL3oPPbI_YcReSM6fylsoJc/s2048/Above+the+Trees.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGx87DXMMitorltFEOa_CiR4cROaqhZl8LgJP84mF_uC6kw_w_hTrialu7SD-SMylGFNr4pprtFv5GTSuYFCQQ1OQ_kit_2qivxfTj7MbWvU5kX2qfMDwwL3oPPbI_YcReSM6fylsoJc/w640-h360/Above+the+Trees.jpg" width="640" /></a></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Friends brought their camera drone for a visit the other afternoon and I got to see what our yard looks like to the birds. My gosh, the tree canopy was much denser from the air than I expected. At ground level I think of our yard as reasonably open, but that's not how it looks from overhead.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This is why I say life in the woods is three-dimensional. The earth where I live isn't flat. There's also another part -- straight up. <br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfIs-QvMSQtgqV1dpGuZF3BKAJUV0oRbC1rWFBtJfxzhl-T7cv_GJj_NhppRyXK6Z6uB7G0tlGA-UUJnS5Oj6VTBWmLdLb9xcQnFmx656rRijF-yjiJfLmow_dJs-paJFpSzmqsydHbw/s1197/Dan+Sitting+in+Front+of+His+House+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="1197" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfIs-QvMSQtgqV1dpGuZF3BKAJUV0oRbC1rWFBtJfxzhl-T7cv_GJj_NhppRyXK6Z6uB7G0tlGA-UUJnS5Oj6VTBWmLdLb9xcQnFmx656rRijF-yjiJfLmow_dJs-paJFpSzmqsydHbw/w640-h360/Dan+Sitting+in+Front+of+His+House+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Remembering Ma and Pa Kettle</span></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This week my daughter, Jennifer, had occasion to visit Mount Vernon's Lincoln Theatre. If you noticed I didn't say "step" daughter, we decided "step" is clumsy and neither of us likes it.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"This is the only theater where I feel comfortable these days," Jennifer remarked, and when I looked at the photo, I could see why. She's vaccinated, by the way, and the theater follows strict safety protocols as well.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbVhPoRWBHzXFPSiMqwImrYAS_48i4R4IfeejYM-kU4v1gwPKfZRl7-uzKaZS_LMWgjcQDVL1FVupmatFB3074qgRAcZwnm7ajg1QUVYI5-wq4aQjwRSmwLDa13oSZRYZx7lNHUir3VI/s2048/IMG_1328.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbVhPoRWBHzXFPSiMqwImrYAS_48i4R4IfeejYM-kU4v1gwPKfZRl7-uzKaZS_LMWgjcQDVL1FVupmatFB3074qgRAcZwnm7ajg1QUVYI5-wq4aQjwRSmwLDa13oSZRYZx7lNHUir3VI/w640-h480/IMG_1328.HEIC" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Since Jennifer knows I grew up in Mount Vernon, she wondered if I had any childhood memories of The Lincoln. I do. And honestly, when I researched the theater to doublecheck myself, what I learned was more interesting than I expected.</span></span><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">What I remember is going several times with my family in the early 1950s, when I was maybe five years old, to see Ma and Pa Kettle comedies. These comedies were so popular they are credited with having saved Universal Studios from bankruptcy in the years after World War II.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My parents were hooked on the Kettle movies. And the early 50s were the last years before we got our first TV. So for a time, going to the theater must have been quite a novelty<span></span> for my parents. After we got a TV, I don't remember us ever going again.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I Googled a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bfq5kju627c" target="_blank">Youtube clip about "math"</a> from one of the Kettle movies and it made me laugh. Apparently, it has been shown in a few math classes over the years. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">What I discovered only recently is that Ma and Pa Kettle were based on real-life characters who lived in the Chimacum area, near Port Townsend. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ma_and_Pa_Kettle" target="_blank">You can read about them here, on Wikipedia.</a> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERW-YN7h2Txtiyb8c01UdavKlt4ysWwWvKSzrgi0R1khvK2-yEHSFn0_UjWIzmVG4F-oRVkKLhKI5KXJ3T-iq9w4NdEa8FLxASOecspdNgXUyvLAhF4i5vCd9PJQQxOju9Nh_use3Waw/s500/B01I99STQK.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_SX500_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERW-YN7h2Txtiyb8c01UdavKlt4ysWwWvKSzrgi0R1khvK2-yEHSFn0_UjWIzmVG4F-oRVkKLhKI5KXJ3T-iq9w4NdEa8FLxASOecspdNgXUyvLAhF4i5vCd9PJQQxOju9Nh_use3Waw/w263-h400/B01I99STQK.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_SX500_.jpg" width="263" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The series got its inspiration in 1945 when Betty McDonald published her first book, <i>The Egg and I</i>, a humorous memoir about being a young wife on a chicken farm on the Olympic Peninsula. The book was a runaway success and Universal-International purchased the movie rights and began making Ma and Pa Kettle comedies based on it. But members of Chimicum community thought the movie cut too close to reality and held them up to ridicule and humiliation, and lawsuits followed. In time, the author prevailed and the lawsuits were dismissed or settled.</span></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">If you travel to the Chimacum area today, you'll still see at least one unmistakable reminder of this piece of postwar history, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Egg_and_I" target="_blank">The Egg and I Road</a>. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But the Lincoln Theater wasn't all that came full circle for me this week. </span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">More About DB Cooper</span></span></h1><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Last week I wrote about the 1971 airline hijacker DB Cooper and how he inspired one of my ten mysteries, <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B084DD8XJM?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860" target="_blank"><i>Final Descent. </i></a>The premise was that perhaps Cooper survived his Thanksgiving Eve jump over the mountains of Southwest Washington with $200,000 in cash and had been living next door ever since.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This week one of my relatives came forward to say he had some connections to the case, including a physical resemblance to the suspect that has aroused some notice. Oh boy, now we're getting somewhere! He wrote:<br /></span></span><blockquote style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><div><div><blockquote type="cite"><div><div><div class="yahoo-style-wrap"><div data-setdir="false" dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">Since I was engaged in skydiving before 1971 and I have a somewhat similar look, people have accused me of being D. B. I found it humorous, but one Navy pilot has persisted. I think he really thinks I am the legend. He even went so far as to check out when I was in Seattle, etc. I was there at the time. The FBI did come to the skydiving center of which I was a member looking for clues to D.B.</span></span></div></div></div></div></blockquote></div></div></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I have some connections of my own, since I lived next door to the Issaquah Skyport for several years. When Cooper demanded parachutes along with the cash, it was the Issaquah Skyport that furnished them. The skyport is now gone and has been replaced by the Issaquah Costco and a commercial office park.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZv5d7aFEbf6_pZN_WNmEeQtpDNJz52KbORpySIbHo_HWD_W4CSAEV7SdRV8mOqYIFQe6C6imbbhm_de5OObsW26wLGwcyMratxY8ibJC73Nl0JrpY_ibgBDoGV-YgFHB75_TO-oczS8A/s1440/101578448_2992423884126075_3676830332834807808_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZv5d7aFEbf6_pZN_WNmEeQtpDNJz52KbORpySIbHo_HWD_W4CSAEV7SdRV8mOqYIFQe6C6imbbhm_de5OObsW26wLGwcyMratxY8ibJC73Nl0JrpY_ibgBDoGV-YgFHB75_TO-oczS8A/w640-h640/101578448_2992423884126075_3676830332834807808_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Kingfisher Bookstore, from Facebook</i></b><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">By the way, the place to find <i>Final Descent </i>and all my books is Kingfisher Books in Coupeville, or else order them online from Amazon. Meg and Brad Olson are Kingfisher's dynamic and knowledgeable owners. They've remodeled the shop so it now covers two floors for browsing and views of Penn Cove.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But that's not all that came full circle this week. There was this truck ... </span></span><br /></div></div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10NlWKCuoyk3i3ZZbtOn5Q7xc65yjUOP7l7OJSxDndz17VB8k2kPDVnfBPnFfaUtZdhpevy1uuEBE4-ezZcm0aECwWR_WwP7JKhTiOfzhpEIfMA6QKQBZvwEArrNbq3v5LNTZKL9wTJM/s640/Unloading_2_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="640" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10NlWKCuoyk3i3ZZbtOn5Q7xc65yjUOP7l7OJSxDndz17VB8k2kPDVnfBPnFfaUtZdhpevy1uuEBE4-ezZcm0aECwWR_WwP7JKhTiOfzhpEIfMA6QKQBZvwEArrNbq3v5LNTZKL9wTJM/w640-h435/Unloading_2_2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Printing Presses Give Me Goosebumps, Too</span></span><br /></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was the "beep beep" of the truck backing up to our garage that brought me to my senses.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">What had I done? </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The truck was delivering 5,000 copies of my first book, <i>Whidbey Island's Special Places</i> (WISP). All I had to do now was sell them to avoid losing my shirt. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was thinking about this as I pulled the last of those 5,000 books from my closet this week. </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">They're nearly gone, notwithstanding a roller-coaster economy, changes in publishing, the closing of many bookstores and a worldwide pandemic. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GTlRPO_PYEusbkBEubSC2rrC4yQdml9xblpHrxempoU9GZGYABm7-IOsRy5spvwOZ3icZyvjEGJEwPOVsrcp58o5AuVq3VpsqkMijuR9T8gSK60gcc1K7xxUSz4p1EU0Eo9uhT3sMdU/s1280/Front+cover+LR_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="1280" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GTlRPO_PYEusbkBEubSC2rrC4yQdml9xblpHrxempoU9GZGYABm7-IOsRy5spvwOZ3icZyvjEGJEwPOVsrcp58o5AuVq3VpsqkMijuR9T8gSK60gcc1K7xxUSz4p1EU0Eo9uhT3sMdU/w400-h308/Front+cover+LR_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">WISP rolled off the presses in 2009. It's a collection of photographs and essays about my
favorite places and people on Whidbey Island, and remains a favorite of visitors and booksellers. Many people tell me they keep it in their guest rooms. It
is for sale only in bookstores on Whidbey Island, not online, and most
of the supply is at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOgSEKr7mEVE1Db01oPLG25gyFoHrNrE5XvAJEmEJEbGP_undWKwmWVp6ZFBaAy-LqSxhTX_3RLCvaWO8VAdkFUQBn3YIPTKAqoMwdRFK2jRCoKVCwSo8RJi-OTznBS1bqOp7e4m8NNk/s2048/IMG_0017c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="2048" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOgSEKr7mEVE1Db01oPLG25gyFoHrNrE5XvAJEmEJEbGP_undWKwmWVp6ZFBaAy-LqSxhTX_3RLCvaWO8VAdkFUQBn3YIPTKAqoMwdRFK2jRCoKVCwSo8RJi-OTznBS1bqOp7e4m8NNk/w640-h355/IMG_0017c.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Of everything I love about writing and publishing, it's <i>printing</i> that still gives me goosebumps. What a thrill, standing next to the presses as they transfer thoughts to paper -- something tangible and immortal. The rumble and vibration of the presses was part of every job I ever had.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It started right after high school when my hometown newspaper gave me a summer job in the newsroom that continued through my college years. My dream job! Later, while serving in the military, I was hired part-time at a nearby weekly newspaper, and still later at a large, regional outdoor newspaper in Seattle. Presses have always been part of my life, and I still think they're magical.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Sue and I published WISP in one big printing, and we were there when it rolled off the press. It was a leap of faith to think I could make back the investment in sales, but Sue supported me in the decision and the book was well-received.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Since then, I went on to write mysteries and switched to new print-on-demand technology. With print-on-demand there are no books to store in the closet or garage. When someone orders one of my mysteries, Amazon prints it right then and mails it to them, or they can download it electronically from Kindle. Kingfisher Bookstore has a good supply of all 10 mysteries in paperback, autographed, for those who wish to shop locally.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For a writer, self-publishing means you wear <i>all</i> the hats. Writing is just step one in creating a book. You're also the graphic designer, photographer, typesetter, proofreader and distributor. If you're not good at managing details, it's probably not the best way to go. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96_plZNq_BqbeucPaMjd70KTUDX4ovJKQJlV7db9mMamJQDgVcs-eOYxt5ZL72uB4hXQ52mV0C3njriGXdTTa93pADRz2Ueg8qJjg-W2mZj8mAxFhIoQocA3A083y2XJis6y56uRthzw/s900/Page+16_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="900" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96_plZNq_BqbeucPaMjd70KTUDX4ovJKQJlV7db9mMamJQDgVcs-eOYxt5ZL72uB4hXQ52mV0C3njriGXdTTa93pADRz2Ueg8qJjg-W2mZj8mAxFhIoQocA3A083y2XJis6y56uRthzw/w640-h510/Page+16_2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>This photo of Coupeville Wharf is one of my favorites from WISP. <i>Pedersen photo</i></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My thinking with WISP was to give readers a taste of the island's diverse landscapes and history with a mix of photography and text that conveyed the passion many locals feel for these places. I think the book succeeded.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It might seem like fiction is a far cry from writing about nature and a sense of place, but I think they're a good fit. My mysteries all reflect my love of island life and nature, and include as much gentle education about both as possible.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Now, about those mysteries ... <br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> <b> </b></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: times;"><b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
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link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></span></p></div>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-77763515357690816752021-06-19T00:30:00.620-07:002021-07-03T16:06:26.817-07:00457 -- D.B Cooper's Miserable Night<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i></i></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlg7mgJ6z6lC7Pvjd_O3AO7W1nwMpJMOtcml8yH1hZbZUF23TWdDkw9hQ-9uKgl5VNtYe-_yaA4bIh3R2HXzOqQtH8exMVjRwbBuNmxs8msVpW9DB27l1WDMx4yUsSMWHFhamMxIxr8A/s640/IMG_3087%252B%2525281%252529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlg7mgJ6z6lC7Pvjd_O3AO7W1nwMpJMOtcml8yH1hZbZUF23TWdDkw9hQ-9uKgl5VNtYe-_yaA4bIh3R2HXzOqQtH8exMVjRwbBuNmxs8msVpW9DB27l1WDMx4yUsSMWHFhamMxIxr8A/w640-h426/IMG_3087%252B%2525281%252529.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><span>"Wet enough for you?" the clerk asked as she rang up my lunch -- M&Ms and cashews.</span><span> I had just driven more than an hour in rain, snow and slush without seeing another car. This store in Cougar, Washington, was the first sign of civilization since the little town of Carson. But I had seen elk, and it was the elk that really got my attention.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOwjV22i3nv_9QVeX3q9pwlCnur5QoiEzbxCS4NgIX-_l3IDcTl0usN4TRYCSb7gRJTW2lLEfc7EWxGxaHURHa1GTmCbwhXjOYxXYo94Az0BaPwQEF2a8JgqeT-v9kTY5RfxBaV6MYKk/s500/IMG_6609.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="334" data-original-width="500" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOwjV22i3nv_9QVeX3q9pwlCnur5QoiEzbxCS4NgIX-_l3IDcTl0usN4TRYCSb7gRJTW2lLEfc7EWxGxaHURHa1GTmCbwhXjOYxXYo94Az0BaPwQEF2a8JgqeT-v9kTY5RfxBaV6MYKk/w640-h429/IMG_6609.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Elk just outside Cougar, Washington. <i>Pedersen photo</i></span></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span>"When I saw those elk crossing the road in the rain, I truly appreciated where D.B. Cooper bailed out of a Northwest Orient Airlines jetliner in a rainstorm, at night, on Thanksgiving Eve, 1971. The hills around Lake Merwin are some of the most rugged country I've seen."</span></i></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>It's been several years now since I wrote those words, but I relived them this week when my stepdaughter, Jennifer, recorded an audio clip of that blog, outside in the rain.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi139bGGbpn8tTqT3TMx1lUxwKix1N7Bn1q02EBC1lCFh7bAo3zrNm_-G_OkRZCf7OpVjnmn1_NV9KYjKn6dmsYKLZ__enti5R4ehb6bwpIwy5MXP6S-y4QLJoMrFWOeYIRi7X2OhecfgQ/s640/image5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi139bGGbpn8tTqT3TMx1lUxwKix1N7Bn1q02EBC1lCFh7bAo3zrNm_-G_OkRZCf7OpVjnmn1_NV9KYjKn6dmsYKLZ__enti5R4ehb6bwpIwy5MXP6S-y4QLJoMrFWOeYIRi7X2OhecfgQ/w640-h480/image5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the technology of adding audio to this blog, but Jennifer stumbled upon a brilliant gift for me when she came up with these recordings. It turns out there's some history to this I didn't know. "If Tony and I did anything right while raising our kids, it was our joy in reading to them," Jennifer said. Ah, so that's it!<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">About a year ago, while shopping for a children's book for friends, Jennifer was having all kinds of fun. She thought, "I wish reading children's books out loud was my job!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"This was in the early pandemic, when working from home was our only reality. I wondered about jobs doing voice work at home, found lots of online courses, and filed the thoughts away for another day.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"When you seemed amenable to my reading to you, I was thrilled. I love that (the blogs) bring back memories and we have a chance to exchange some thoughts with each other." </span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But back to D.B. Cooper. To read the full text of what I wrote about him in my blog, and Jennifer recorded, <a href="https://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/2016/04/191-wet-enough-for-you.html" target="_blank">click here.</a><br /></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Cooper jumped from a Northwest Airlines 727 on a miserable, rainy, Thanksgiving Eve in 1971. By coincidence, last weekend we were expecting some serious rain of our own. But it was still a nice evening and Jennifer thought she might record the blog out outside. Soon, the rain started to fall.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>"After it started raining I decided it was still too nice to call it a night, so I went in and got an umbrella. There is plenty of rain in this recording to enjoy hearing as I read."</span></span></span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMj8F_F1ozLbxLXWaN3pW7QPEiCelH80etUVrDVB8rNpOohU7k3YcJX1-rO8FvUO-EBD7DOmmNiaui_OYrYFP-mOtd9cxZCEWo-Nx9oOIw2Hq_pkqYibcajS-qY7CfiAsMNPVFj9U_zE/s640/image1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMj8F_F1ozLbxLXWaN3pW7QPEiCelH80etUVrDVB8rNpOohU7k3YcJX1-rO8FvUO-EBD7DOmmNiaui_OYrYFP-mOtd9cxZCEWo-Nx9oOIw2Hq_pkqYibcajS-qY7CfiAsMNPVFj9U_zE/w480-h640/image1.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">The splatting of big raindrops on that umbrella provided wonderful ambience, as did the whistle of a train passing in the distance.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">"It was lovely," Jennifer said. And I'm sure it was a much nicer evening than the one on which D.B. Cooper jumped into that rugged, mountainous, elk country. <br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">Cooper has long fascinated me. Despite a decades-long FBI investigation, he remains unidentified. We will probably never know who he was. My visit to D.B. Cooper country stayed with me and became the inspiration for my seventh mystery, <i>Final Descent</i>. One of my reviewers on Amazon had this to say:<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>"Even
while the reader knows that Pedersen’s account is fiction ... since nobody still knows what
really happened, then why not accept Pedersen’s take on the matter and
enjoy a suspenseful, fast-paced, and entertaining murder mystery with
the D.B. Cooper crime as its main thread?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>"For an added bonus, and as is
often the case in Pedersen’s mystery novels ... one learns not only about D.B. Cooper, but also about
various topics related to the history, geography, and environment of the
Pacific Northwest. I highly recommend “Final Descent” both to existing
fans of his mystery series as well as to any readers interested in D.B.
Cooper and/or the Pacific Northwest."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I had all kinds of fun with this one, taking the story to Puget Island, in the Columbia River, and other places that are favorites of mine, and constructing the secret life I imagine Cooper might have had after floating back to earth.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span> <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>Meanwhile, I continue to hear from readers who enjoyed my tenth mystery, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Final Cover-Up</a>. </i>A friend, Robert Beath, lent me the use of his name for one of the chapters in this book. He was on a cross-country air flight last week and wrote:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"On the airplane, I had time to (get) further into <i>Final Cover-Up.</i> It was good from the beginning, but (oh, I am not done yet -- remember, slow reader on this end) BUT IT KEPT GETTING BETTER! The details, the pacing ... the characters, event sequences and ... bringing the disparate threads together is wonderful. How you did 10 books in one series and used your experiences and characters at different times and across the continent and tied them to our little corner of the world, and your even smaller corner of the world, is wonderful."</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: xx-large; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">All my books are available locally on Whidbey Island, autographed, at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville. </span><br /></span></span></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Meet the Foxes</span></span></b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">When Carol and Bill Wiseman discovered they had foxes living under their garden shed last summer, they gained an instant new hobby. This summer the foxes are back with a new litter.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This is my dream! I love foxes and told Carol I'm wracked with jealousy.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Carol and Bill live in west-central Oregon and the foxes live in a burrow under the shed, with an opening they can just squeeze through. The adults are wary, and it takes fast work with a camera to get photography of them coming and going.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJvjUJ-b6qp_o4mksDukL9AKGwnHKilDyDYVRO-P1omDIibP1YfBRyJeZUb8zan6DQBLlnm6u5ZpiTiAt0JgAvG3XkybIj79FLUWh9E4ykl-PxpxwlVDnAiJnVbjZAA4n72zcgK9FuIT8/s373/Screen+Shot+2021-06-14+at+12.43.05+PM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="373" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJvjUJ-b6qp_o4mksDukL9AKGwnHKilDyDYVRO-P1omDIibP1YfBRyJeZUb8zan6DQBLlnm6u5ZpiTiAt0JgAvG3XkybIj79FLUWh9E4ykl-PxpxwlVDnAiJnVbjZAA4n72zcgK9FuIT8/w640-h384/Screen+Shot+2021-06-14+at+12.43.05+PM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Screen shot from Wiseman video, brightened a bit.<br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>This year, Carol and Bill upped their game. Their son, Jesse, installed a trail cam to watch the driveway night and day, and photography is not a problem.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS7M1bfFIjI8GMdkFsrt2Zl89igekdtjAdpn1SfeKFb_QjP-3e1fmj6hVFv_6N8ZqE_HxzaQcI4d2Z9kD1Xs2C-zGeq-w10tXBKH13WR37hrJJpR_qbk9Dxdb96usOF82dQ3HMA1TSgmo/s400/Mama-fox-kit-400x300.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS7M1bfFIjI8GMdkFsrt2Zl89igekdtjAdpn1SfeKFb_QjP-3e1fmj6hVFv_6N8ZqE_HxzaQcI4d2Z9kD1Xs2C-zGeq-w10tXBKH13WR37hrJJpR_qbk9Dxdb96usOF82dQ3HMA1TSgmo/w640-h480/Mama-fox-kit-400x300.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">One of the kits and its parent are on either side of the burrow under the shed.</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Carol is a fellow blogger and wrote about the foxes here: <a href="https://carolwiseman.com/the-night-life-foxes-are-back/?fbclid=IwAR2sGz1XRb3XVGvZTyapVbQmYaEULpIlAzB6vgtH8Bw4Aix1ibyUFlEPtJM" target="_blank">Carol's Blog.</a><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Our back yard is fun because Bill has set up a little play yard with stuff they can climb on. Stay tuned. It feels wonderful to share this with you, Dan." <br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This week Carol sent me two video clips. I made a screen shot of one of the clips, showing the four kits. In another frame I could also see both adults -- six animals altogether. I'll post the links to Carol's videos here. The action happens in the first part of each video.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://ring.com/share/766ddaeb-15eb-4b82-b0a3-c353fa439843" target="_blank">Video 1, from Ring.com</a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://ring.com/share/2920c1c8-fbbb-48f4-a6a2-8173e6bbf922" target="_blank">Video 2, from Ring.com</a><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Still a Wasteland -- Only Worse</span></span></b><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>"I
invite each of you to sit down in front of your television set when your
station goes on the air and stay there, for a day, without a book,
without a magazine, without a newspaper, without a profit-and-loss sheet
or a rating book to distract you. Keep your eyes glued to that set
until the station signs off. I can assure you that what you will observe
is a vast wasteland.</i></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i>"</i></b></span></span></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i>--Newton Minnow, FCC Commissioner <br /></i></b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Newton Minnow's blunt remarks
to the National Association of Broadcasters in 1961 are still quoted and remembered:</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i> <br /></i></b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>"When television is good, nothing — not the theater, not the magazines or newspapers — nothing is better. But when television is bad, nothing is worse.</i></span><span style="font-family: times;"><b> <br /></b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>"You will see a procession of game shows, formula comedies about totally
unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism,
murder, western bad men, western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more
violence, and cartoons. And endlessly, commercials — many screaming,
cajoling, and offending. And most of all, boredom. True, you’ll see a
few things you will enjoy. But they will be very, very few. And if you
think I exaggerate, I only ask you to try it."</i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://time.com/4315217/newton-minow-vast-wasteland-1961-speech/" target="_blank">Click on this link to Time Magazine to read more about his speech.</a><i> <br /></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I watch almost no TV, but last week I had about 36 hours alone with a television as my sole entertainment. It left me grieving for those who live in households where the TV runs all day. It's numbing. The previous user had turned the volume all the way up to full. The first thing I did was turn it down to where I could barely hear it.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Some of what depressed me was the vapid programming. For vapid, nothing tops the local news -- fires, car wrecks and puppy stories. It's not useful information, just a mix of "feel good" and "feel bad" for very bored people.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The national news networks slug it out in a marathon, 24-hour competition to keep viewers tuned with graphic video, over-the-top commercials, and pundits stretching to inflame conflict where little exists. Our culture demands video and wants everything simple and dumbed down, requiring little real thought or understanding. Promoting culture wars and extreme partisanship keeps viewers tied to what passes for news.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hloVydCkOurmkdfcdwQ3CQ56-RUDNuKzgwtLD_0QSnbOYU3jCBlI2WH3CcLUFyYzDJw_eR9TmfyoK3-vXXXsZJxBndy-_uc7_kfmloRdrKEpH8mmlVNWhk8LGA4AQfRtoZ1VZZ8R6Rs/s903/Screen+Shot+2021-06-12+at+11.32.15+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="903" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hloVydCkOurmkdfcdwQ3CQ56-RUDNuKzgwtLD_0QSnbOYU3jCBlI2WH3CcLUFyYzDJw_eR9TmfyoK3-vXXXsZJxBndy-_uc7_kfmloRdrKEpH8mmlVNWhk8LGA4AQfRtoZ1VZZ8R6Rs/w640-h326/Screen+Shot+2021-06-12+at+11.32.15+AM.png" width="640" /></a></i></span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But what really struck me was the commercials. They were extreme, desperate, ridiculous, hyperactive, anxiety-provoking and even violent. Perhaps I'm naive but I really wasn't prepared for a beer commercial built around three "patriotically themed" cans introduced for the summer drinking season.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Collect all three," was the commercial's advice. Really? It's just beer. I'll find some other way to show my patriotism than buying beer.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then there were the endless, disturbing commercials for medicines being advertised for chronic illness, all of which came with dire warnings of horrific side effects. Stacked one after another, they were spectacularly depressing. Of course, the actors in these commercials are young and vigorous, seemingly at the peak of health, even though they're one step from death from either their disease of the medicine they take for it.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I don't have a simple solution for any of us to this wasteland, other than to be more discriminating about what we watch on TV and read on social media. We can't rely on broadcasting to fix itself, to dampen the violence and hyperactivity, so our best option is to take more control of our own choices and how we spend our time.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I think a good life comes down to balance. We should turn off the TV and spend more time gardening, hiking and playing with the dog. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Extreme partisanship, approaching hate, has become the national obsession. It's nuts, because both sides have valid contributions to make. This is a democracy and we function on compromise.</span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's time to tone down what divides us and pay attention to our common humanity -- cultivate friendships and find common ground with our neighbors. In the end, these are the things that will heighten our well-being and quality-of-life, and lead us out of the wasteland. <br /></span></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: times;"><b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
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collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></span> <br /></p><br /></div>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-84698589692687063162021-06-12T00:30:00.132-07:002021-07-03T16:06:12.390-07:00456 -- Unexpected Directions<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEaZFdO0NlThsGuOG3gvPYMqj-ZxG4m1etNoAttcPSgkl4hTV6J9vfcrESz-xfMvjHSJG4-6byBQhek_4RorhplzcnsQt9UaPubkNLgCEVqCUKlfxum4Z9Q70Ai_h-mo1rCDsZI9B52g/s640/IMG_0959.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEaZFdO0NlThsGuOG3gvPYMqj-ZxG4m1etNoAttcPSgkl4hTV6J9vfcrESz-xfMvjHSJG4-6byBQhek_4RorhplzcnsQt9UaPubkNLgCEVqCUKlfxum4Z9Q70Ai_h-mo1rCDsZI9B52g/w640-h480/IMG_0959.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">"Pursuit Lake"</span></b><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>"I bought all the
books in this series and plan to settle in for some good tale-spinning
from a writer who has become a friend." -- </span></span></span></span></i></b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>Kate Poss on Amazon, about <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999" target="_blank"><i></i></a><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999" target="_blank">Final Pursuit: Mystery in the Adirondacks.</a></i></span></span></span></span><b> </b><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This review from Kate Poss made my day recently. Feedback from readers about my mysteries and blog has kept me going through some unpleasant physical symptoms, while I wait to see if recent leukemia treatment works.</span></span> </p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span><i>Final Pursuit, </i>"Dan
Pedersen's fifth book, takes place in the Adirondack Mountains," Kate writes. "I read
this mystery in a day, absorbed in the lives of vacationing Shane and
Elizabeth, along with their friends Robert and Marie, as they solve a
crime. This book introduces Kat Brown, a favorite character in later
stories."</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>"Introduces" is the right word. When I wrote <i>Final Pursuit,</i> I imagined Kat as a one-off character, with no expectation she'd come back in later mysteries, but she found a place in my heart. <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>Writers don't always know where a story is headed. We create characters and find they have have minds of their own, and lead us in unexpected directions. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>There's a writing exercise that involves creating two dissimilar characters -- say, a cowboy and a nun -- and putting them together in a room and imagining the conversation they might have. That's what novelists do all the time. <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>I think that's true of life itself -- we can't predict where the people in our lives will lead us. Friends, marriage and jobs all write the script for what becomes our lives. <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>Consider D.B. Cooper, the Northwest Airlines hijacker of 1971. I based my novel, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><i>Final Descent,</i></a> on the question, what if D.B. Cooper survived his jump, went back to his former life, and was today an old man living right next door? When I started to create a life for him, I had no idea where he would lead me. The book is what came of wondering what his story might be.<br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>Kat was a feral teen in </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999" target="_blank">Final Pursuit: Mystery in the Adirondacks</a>. She was </span></span></span></span>inspired in part by a Northwest legend, Colton Harris Moore, the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colton_Harris_Moore" target="_blank">Barefoot Bandit</a> of Camano Island. He broke into many cabins and unoccupied homes including, we think, my family's own summer getaway. Kat soon became my favorite character of all time. I didn't see that coming.<br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>I chose as the setting of <i>Final Pursuit</i> a lake in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State where I flew with my father-in-law on an amphibious aircraft to a family retreat in the 1980s. It was my honeymoon, decades before I took up writing fiction, but I knew when I saw the lake and its summer community this would be a perfect setting for a mystery.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>The idea percolated for the next thirty years. When I finally started to write about the Adirondacks and Kat, I couldn't get her out of my mind. She quickly assumed a central role in all the rest of the mysteries. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>So yes, there is a real Pursuit Lake, but that isn't its real name. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999" target="_blank">Final Pursuit: Mystery in the Adirondacks,</a> unfolds at a fictional lake</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span> but the story soon ties back to Whidbey in the next book. Kat Brown isn't a real person, but in my mind she could be.<i> Final Pursut </i>and all my books are available in paperback, autographed, at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville.<br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="a-size-base review-text review-text-content" data-hook="review-body"><span>Here's a little more from the Amazon review Kate wrote: "I learned about the Mennonite and Amish communities in this
mystery, and appreciate Dan's way of getting me to like and
understand his characters. Following reading this book, I bought all the
books in this series and plan to settle in for some good tale-spinning
from a writer who has become a friend." </span></span><br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8c7skHakmOkTlpiHhCFmZJU89tudOHioXAHFKodhX_Kez_ZsR_-a9-tZSEce66hazg0dHJnIPJC9IzHTwWC9j9arsfRYSSTY9S3v3FpapfFshOed4C-5RDNzY2r-Apkq2g0_emXpcbc/s320/IMG_0982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8c7skHakmOkTlpiHhCFmZJU89tudOHioXAHFKodhX_Kez_ZsR_-a9-tZSEce66hazg0dHJnIPJC9IzHTwWC9j9arsfRYSSTY9S3v3FpapfFshOed4C-5RDNzY2r-Apkq2g0_emXpcbc/w480-h640/IMG_0982.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>This is the actual lodge where much of Final Pursuit takes place.</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This week I landed in the hospital for several days, for the second time in recent months. Lying on my back in a fog, I had time to think about the fictional world of my mysteries. I didn't feel well enough to do anything else, didn't want to watch TV, and didn't have a computer because, both times, I never expected my trips to the E.R. to be more than a few hours. My little cell phone kept running out of power and was my only lifeline home. My nurses were kind enough to recharge it several times.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My stay this week was at our Whidbey hospital, which I must say is much nicer, more comfortable and personal than the big city. I had a private room this time, unlike April when I was hospitalized off island. I don't recommend the latter, but it did give me a chance to learn more about my fellow man in the next bed. It's all material for future use.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">While I was there, communication was pouring in from friends. I left most of it unanswered to save my battery. Doctors and nurses hovered around me, and one oncologist gave an especially grim prognosis. "This is very serious -- leukemia. If you have anything that needs finishing up, do it now. Don't wait."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I did have some unfinished business. Sue and I had been working with a lawyer on our wills and other important documents. We were ready to sign and notarize them, but hadn't scheduled an appointment. Now it was critical I get out of the hospital and do that.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I had also spent months writing and editing my tenth mystery, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><i>Final Cover-Up: The Bones of Old Town,</i></a> but hadn't yet released it on Amazon. If I didn't get the book released to the public ASAP, I had just wasted all that time and work.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">With mixed feelings, my doctors agreed to release me from the hospital. They were still managing symptoms. Care would shift to an outpatient basis with my long-time oncologist on Whidbey Island, who was a little more optimistic than the oncologist I'd seen in the hospital. That was in April and it is now June, and I'm putting my faith in her "program," hoping for the best. Day-to-day, everything is still very dicey. There is no clear trend in my condition.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But in some ways things have never been better for me. I met my goal. I have ten mysteries in print and they're attracting a loyal following. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">With all my mysteries, I try to give the reader something extra -- local knowledge in addition to the central mystery of the book. I hope my love of the island and its history, and of nature, brings about some new understanding in the minds of readers. If I have done that, then my efforts were well worthwhile.</span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: times;"><b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-72301023753788920962021-06-05T00:30:00.211-07:002021-07-03T16:05:24.728-07:00455 -- Nurturing Our Souls<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyP9phNfLNeusTsZg23emYqQrWLfw8KHPv5sccgHwN71yZROmlvRJCv8IxFpESs3JxIxkfN-62NkUkB_vOc87g6EVXgy1o0dWNaNQYce0jZtjF1MpwCfoNCWVtwtOIyl9YSYfRmfuVko/s1386/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+3.58.40+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="1174" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyP9phNfLNeusTsZg23emYqQrWLfw8KHPv5sccgHwN71yZROmlvRJCv8IxFpESs3JxIxkfN-62NkUkB_vOc87g6EVXgy1o0dWNaNQYce0jZtjF1MpwCfoNCWVtwtOIyl9YSYfRmfuVko/w542-h640/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+3.58.40+PM.png" width="542" /></a></td></tr><tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Listening to nature's voice -- a female Western Tanager in my yard.</span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> I've often wondered what this female Western Tanager was saying in this photograph I took a few years ago. She was remarkably tolerant as I approached respectfully -- probably exhausted after tending her young in a nest high in our evergreen canopy. Perhaps the male was spelling her off at the nest. I got my photo quietly, with a 400 mm zoom, without stressing her, and backed away while she continued to talk.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Tanagers migrate north for the breeding season from their winter range in the Southwest and parts of Mexico. They are common in our forests in the summertime, but mostly unseen because they favor the treetops. People love the male tanager with its flame red head, but the female has a soft quality I find compelling. My 2017 book,<i> Wild Whidbey</i>, has photos of both.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I think they're the most beautiful of our summer visitors. I never knew such birds existed till after I moved to my home in the woods. They are emblematic of how that move changed my perceptions of the world -- of what's real and nurturing to our souls, and what's artificial.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The artificial part -- cities, jobs, traffic, politics -- seems unavoidably necessary, but can make us miserable unless balanced in some way by access to the wholesome, reassuring normalcy of nature and its cycles.</span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjv_5pbUp1hC2EdOWAnouwwbOYQXOAlKI2Dmoc0s8xOrnbXJvt_f8YuuB1L1746agAL38bg35RaTtCd15FUF-zX5-WRAeaNT2-FSRsySNeX6rpMtNmLjrQrxe8j5Lo4BlxMUZmvpujtuo/s1276/Screen+Shot+2021-06-01+at+7.14.46+AM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="1186" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjv_5pbUp1hC2EdOWAnouwwbOYQXOAlKI2Dmoc0s8xOrnbXJvt_f8YuuB1L1746agAL38bg35RaTtCd15FUF-zX5-WRAeaNT2-FSRsySNeX6rpMtNmLjrQrxe8j5Lo4BlxMUZmvpujtuo/w594-h640/Screen+Shot+2021-06-01+at+7.14.46+AM.png" width="594" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mourning Cloak butterfly. </span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In my book, <i>Wild Whidbey: The Nature of Island Life</i>, I wrote:<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"People argue in circles about whether islands attract a certain kind of person or create them. I think it's both, but skewed toward the latter."</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">At the time of my impulsive move to Whidbey Island in the 1980s, I described myself this way: </span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"</span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I
knew little of wild birds and orcas, gray whales and coyotes, owls,
wetlands, windstorms, native plants and forests. Nor of dogs, a series
of whom became my friends of a lifetime. I didn't especially pay
attention to sunrises and sunsets, and tides. I didn't write for the joy
of it."</span></span> <span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">That last line was the zinger -- "I didn't write for the joy of it."</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1M9tN3xlvVgn0mLefpymCCPtzNw4XVdgfdXJfqv4yjJwse-cCjBuDMoInErRQcDAyDFK2Z4-5Ryz8slOvu3JXWlqGS4Xy19ldPice40y1nXIncXnPQBMJoRRtnF7KOVMWGVSKQgMcOdc/s897/Screen+Shot+2019-03-11+at+5.31.40+AM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="598" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1M9tN3xlvVgn0mLefpymCCPtzNw4XVdgfdXJfqv4yjJwse-cCjBuDMoInErRQcDAyDFK2Z4-5Ryz8slOvu3JXWlqGS4Xy19ldPice40y1nXIncXnPQBMJoRRtnF7KOVMWGVSKQgMcOdc/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-03-11+at+5.31.40+AM.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I'm convinced that living close to nature brings out creativity. "Nature" includes dogs, because they have so much to teach us about honesty and living in the moment, and joy. My dog, Duncan, made me smile every day, a priceless gift. My community is awash in authors and artists, photographers, musicians, dancers and other creative people, and, in time, that came to include me, and also my wife, Sue, who took up sketching and watercolors.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Of all the books I've self-published in the last ten years, </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Wild Whidbey</i></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> stands apart in describing my change<i>.</i> I was reminded of this as I formatted a Kindle version this week, for the first time. I was in my thirties when my wife and I bought this house in the forest, on an island, and made our lives more complicated by adding a ferryboat ride to an already hard commute to our jobs in the city. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">What I didn't realize, and couldn't, was how the experience would change me. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yRGl_EGJVa-2sUxQHarJ2kY7GgEIJPt2xsH5yqvxVGISy_viZghYlRiMyDQ0SswS_45Bhgjrl7O3P3VPyxJEZ8cikW1qFepmIuVmfGl5NcKhrpZfR2Z9Iieir8MTEiO4XbzQvMtsOBI/s1354/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.03.41+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1354" data-original-width="1280" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yRGl_EGJVa-2sUxQHarJ2kY7GgEIJPt2xsH5yqvxVGISy_viZghYlRiMyDQ0SswS_45Bhgjrl7O3P3VPyxJEZ8cikW1qFepmIuVmfGl5NcKhrpZfR2Z9Iieir8MTEiO4XbzQvMtsOBI/w606-h640/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.03.41+PM.png" width="606" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>The summer sun rises behind Mt. Pilchuck, as seen from Langley.<br /></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was focused on my career and commuting. At first this was just a place to live -- a pretty one. </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Little by little, I started to become someone new. Again, quoting from <i>Wild Whidbey</i>:<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"The
island's abundant wildlife and forests, gentle people and creative
community all claimed parts of my soul. All shaped my values and
philosophy, and my temperament. I grew accustomed to kind smiles and
cheery 'good mornings' from both friends and strangers on the sidewalks
of Langley and the trails in our woods. I stopped worrying about the
person coming toward me in the dark."</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXm7MeHZEHhj1e3L3P8UfLATs_n0fCkbZpPEukOSUxsup22pAynN68I0BsMq3JVEpVXYw35tG-hHRzJDZQ_CvDykmkWGcWUa09MyKFI7zpSOJGsuMFfG3JfGdfueKal4k4QSlNZLWuGfo/s1256/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.05.30+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1256" data-original-width="1190" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXm7MeHZEHhj1e3L3P8UfLATs_n0fCkbZpPEukOSUxsup22pAynN68I0BsMq3JVEpVXYw35tG-hHRzJDZQ_CvDykmkWGcWUa09MyKFI7zpSOJGsuMFfG3JfGdfueKal4k4QSlNZLWuGfo/w606-h640/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.05.30+PM.png" width="606" /></a></span></b></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Duncan and I enjoy a perfect morning at Ebey's Landing. </span><br /></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i></i></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Wild Whidbey</i> is a compilation of blog posts and photography that express my philosophy and values. Some of the short pieces in it advocate a different way of thinking and others simply celebrate the humor of human eccentricity.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In 2017 I published it as a paperback, which you can find at Coupeville's <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/" target="_blank">Kingfisher Bookstore, </a>and on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Whidbey-Nature-Island-Life/dp/1544164017/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, but I didn't even try to create a Kindle version. It's a nightmare to format a book for Kindle if it contains photography, because of all the different devices Kindle supports, and the random spacing and gaps that result if the user changes font size, for example.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxiLVsIxyCYjczA2jDmycq7WZXc1wrACtZ5N9vuc-9aFELCnrcEIIgOzSHBd-iSBrgOgkYN-vC0HinkJzQ_z_RBNW2j73vsE8CaO8wOAM8CEgFBnltjoc-nCiZxs2RRQCn1sNGGCk-co/s1494/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.01.33+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1494" data-original-width="1296" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxiLVsIxyCYjczA2jDmycq7WZXc1wrACtZ5N9vuc-9aFELCnrcEIIgOzSHBd-iSBrgOgkYN-vC0HinkJzQ_z_RBNW2j73vsE8CaO8wOAM8CEgFBnltjoc-nCiZxs2RRQCn1sNGGCk-co/w556-h640/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.01.33+PM.png" width="556" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My first Snowy Owl, at Keystone on Central Whidbey. <br /></span></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i></i></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Wild Whidbey</i> is the most personal of my books, and the priciest for Amazon to print (and readers to buy) because it contains a great deal of color photography. I self-publish my books with Amazon's KDP Publishing, and when someone orders a paperback, KDP prints it right then and there. It's not as cost-effective as printing 5,000 in advance and storing them, but eliminates the risk of unsold inventory for the publisher.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My goal in creating a Kindle version was to offer the option of an alternative, more affordable format. I set the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Whidbey-Nature-Island-Life-ebook/dp/B06XGF91M3/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Kindle price at $2.99</a>. If you have a device that can display full-color photography, I think you'll find it both beautiful and thought-provoking to own and read.<br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-neUtT9XmyAfm28k-OXU09rTv4oqu362TVRxs3izwMRGKSWO-7pKSavmHKfa33YWntJFGHdn72hcNASQ8BpbNYT3kNwUfXffih4m5fAmIBXx6qjkdxIgUtLi8OsO6dap-fGlwcsKzooo/s1280/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.04.53+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="1280" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-neUtT9XmyAfm28k-OXU09rTv4oqu362TVRxs3izwMRGKSWO-7pKSavmHKfa33YWntJFGHdn72hcNASQ8BpbNYT3kNwUfXffih4m5fAmIBXx6qjkdxIgUtLi8OsO6dap-fGlwcsKzooo/w640-h620/Screen+Shot+2021-05-31+at+4.04.53+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">This just makes me feel alive.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">An Update on <i>Outdoorsy Male</i></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Last week's mention of my short-story collection, <i>Outdoorsy Male, </i>touched off a small buying panic on Amazon and at Kingfisher Books in Coupeville. Kingfisher sold their last copy on the weekend, but they have a few more now, all autographed.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogADFtdPQCWuhCo74kedCAy-QxBsXpF9rvyh5e7XVIjCq92lty0GdcU0-zRM87t7e88_hqoSMw-D6SWru62I2a5AHim36yaDkz4Pu3lneqk2cq30_9k5Rs6BN92axlyAbX3F3l4xWjl8/s724/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+8.04.40+AM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogADFtdPQCWuhCo74kedCAy-QxBsXpF9rvyh5e7XVIjCq92lty0GdcU0-zRM87t7e88_hqoSMw-D6SWru62I2a5AHim36yaDkz4Pu3lneqk2cq30_9k5Rs6BN92axlyAbX3F3l4xWjl8/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+8.04.40+AM.jpg" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I recently checked the online catalog of <a href="https://www.sno-isle.org/find-a-book/" target="_blank">Sno-Isle Library System </a>and found they have most of my books in their collection. So if you prefer to get your books at the library, a quick search of their website will show which books they have, whether they're on hold, and which branches have the books on their shelves. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My goal as an author was not to become fabulously wealthy but to have readers. I did both. I've gotten readers and succeeded fabulously at avoiding wealth.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Here's an illustration of wealth-avoidance for the little guy. Some of my mysteries are available free to readers who belong to Kindle Unlimited. As the author, I'm paid from a fund Amazon maintains, and my royalty is based on how many pages people read. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The other day I was thrilled to find I had earned a <i>penny</i> because someone read three pages that day. I do a little better on paperbacks but sell them at close to break-even (for me) in island shops.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This May was my best month ever, with 90 books sold on Amazon. That's not bad for an unknown author. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaiBRXcBtko0wQz6OvfAdQnpPen9WBB4ck6wm1QX4E04eCZDi6SCJKv5TlTOgSGtz98E7Ibm9vF7mC30-jx-EN_PAvo_YcJL6AMgCqVzcvxb7lAb4SLYyQ3yJObmxfXZ5e4fRJqseCiY/s1080/191778532_4049054781796308_6928204201254933554_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1077" data-original-width="1080" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaiBRXcBtko0wQz6OvfAdQnpPen9WBB4ck6wm1QX4E04eCZDi6SCJKv5TlTOgSGtz98E7Ibm9vF7mC30-jx-EN_PAvo_YcJL6AMgCqVzcvxb7lAb4SLYyQ3yJObmxfXZ5e4fRJqseCiY/w640-h638/191778532_4049054781796308_6928204201254933554_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><b><i>Photo courtesy Meg Olson, The Kingfisher Bookstore</i></b></span><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Here's an overview of all 10 mysteries, in case you're wondering if you might be interested.<br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><p></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: times;"><b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></span></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-7684977079242577472021-05-29T00:00:00.005-07:002021-07-03T16:04:57.863-07:00454 -- Breathtaking Vistas and the Vietnam Coast Guard<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquifoYYUWhCs82GDwFWvjUZQjFphe75ln3hY9xxfWeWAH-P2PLsMoerr6y9U0AAXOGmSTordmklE_IEmcl8F_sQwOc052w9Wzp0lO4d30sfiEGcj_5APDgF3TlIjzc9VznYLDhz_zmKM/s2048/189163619_1891151007718324_6745949890612202382_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquifoYYUWhCs82GDwFWvjUZQjFphe75ln3hY9xxfWeWAH-P2PLsMoerr6y9U0AAXOGmSTordmklE_IEmcl8F_sQwOc052w9Wzp0lO4d30sfiEGcj_5APDgF3TlIjzc9VznYLDhz_zmKM/w640-h426/189163619_1891151007718324_6745949890612202382_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Ebey's Landing. That's the Ferry House, aka Ebey Inn, in the foreground. Note the highrise office buildings of Seattle in the distance at right. To appreciate the details in this image, be sure to view it full screen. <i>Copyright 2021 Gary Skiff</i></b></span><i><br /></i></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I don't know any place prettier on Whidbey Island than Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville. The lay of the land, fields and water are infinitely pleasing to the eye. I'm guessing this is also many locals' very favorite place to hike along the shoreline bluffs.<br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Gary Skiff of Oak Harbor got some exceptionally beautiful images recently that capture not only the view but the freshly-mown fields. Farmers have been mowing their fields and the spring colors are exquisite. To fully appreciate these images you really must enlarge them to full screen. They get better and better, the closer you look.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdVP0p7GtnsbJ8BXDsyBZ2hz-eDRib5dl9hgyfTLk2DIS5BW6_QsYf7yoKxEiIQ6NG468DdivFEvzW_fv02Dw9YGWFyw8hJyqNxZozdPTN0yQpsyPWJytdnKx9WA8AuCzu31CIve5E3Q/s2048/189351512_1891150537718371_3967463325055675666_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdVP0p7GtnsbJ8BXDsyBZ2hz-eDRib5dl9hgyfTLk2DIS5BW6_QsYf7yoKxEiIQ6NG468DdivFEvzW_fv02Dw9YGWFyw8hJyqNxZozdPTN0yQpsyPWJytdnKx9WA8AuCzu31CIve5E3Q/w640-h426/189351512_1891150537718371_3967463325055675666_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Ebey Blockhouse and some formidable clouds over the Olympics, copyright 2021 Gary Skiff</b></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>It's worth pointing out that the large building in the top photo is the old Ferry House, where travelers stayed while waiting for the boat to Port Townsend. Here's a little of its history from Wikipedia:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">"One of the oldest residential buildings in Washington, the <b>Ferry House</b>
was built in 1860 by Winfield Scott Ebey as an inn to provide financial
stability for his brother’s children, who were orphaned when Isaac Neff Ebeywas brutally murdered and beheaded by Canadian natives. Once completed and opened for business, the building was named <i>The Ebey Inn.</i> The prime location across Admiralty Inlet from Port Townsend meant a steady flow of travelers and income for the three Ebey
children. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">"With no other nearby accommodations, the Inn — which housed a
post office, a tavern, and rooms for overnight guests — quickly became
an important place for sailors and other travelers to rest before
continuing their journeys to Coupeville, Whidbey Island, LaConner and points further north. Travelers and locals could also purchase merchandise and groceries at the Inn." </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The second photo, taken nearby, is the Ebey Blockhouse, which dates to the mid-1850s. It was built on the land claim of Jacob and Sarah Ebey and is one of four surviving blockhouses of eleven. The blockhouses were connected by a 12-foot stockade for defense against raiding parties of Indians. My thanks to Gary Skiff for permission to share these photos.</span></span><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjJdPC0QRasuFx9HTikbko3sUYEs5ke2OQjuZzquBclqBNW3ZNWIqYWu4PgN7ICXYTbJjVbd5Hg1FNOHLapm7mcgvXH14tNtbxRvl_3OWW0-TtqgYRAnyc4-agUcBpbXjZqGj0Gx6AmY/s1590/187331613_10227457893699386_1775887802262477239_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="1590" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjJdPC0QRasuFx9HTikbko3sUYEs5ke2OQjuZzquBclqBNW3ZNWIqYWu4PgN7ICXYTbJjVbd5Hg1FNOHLapm7mcgvXH14tNtbxRvl_3OWW0-TtqgYRAnyc4-agUcBpbXjZqGj0Gx6AmY/w640-h339/187331613_10227457893699386_1775887802262477239_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Copyright 2021 Paul Kukuk<br /></span></span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Yes, That's the Vietnam Coast Guard<br /></span></span></span></h1><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">"Seems
very strange seeing this ship in my front yard, coming in and out of
Puget Sound the past couple of days," writes Paul Kukuk of Greenbank.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Look closely. The bold lettering on the side of the ship does not say U.S. Coast Guard but <i>Vietnam</i> Coast Guard. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">"Fifty three years ago we were
trying to kill anything associated with that red flag with the yellow
star," Paul said.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Thankfully, times change. But seeing that ship in our home waters makes one reflect on the horrendous toll the Vietnam War took on both sides, and the miracle of healing that has since occurred. Like many of my generation, I saw classmates go off to Vietnam and never come back. I imagine the Vietnamese sailors crewing that vessel were not even born at the time of the war, but surely their families paid a terrible price.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">I'm pretty sure the ship is the former USCGS John Midgett, which the U.S. is turning over to Vietnam. <a href="https://vietnamtimes.org.vn/us-to-hand-over-large-coast-guard-cutter-to-vietnam-soon-20852.html?fbclid=IwAR22Q4k2A6pQDIrDtYiUPl46vUVlMvISFFcj8fPaOezb3uh8GdnKJEdyLC8" target="_blank">To read about it, click on this link.</a> <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The waters around Whidbey Island have been full of unusual ships lately. Because of a backup at Puget Sound port facilities, several massive container ships have been anchored in Holmes Harbor, awaiting space to proceed to port and unload. The world is creeping closer.</span></span></span></p><p><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pev9fr8R1PuSNbJmdY108pxsbznoiPpo3msTz3x4DgHomVFTBOT-4SA2X_3qz54Addy6Kxn1Bv6sFdLwulROpANHqVHjS7HiJa5slgo43qv-iPI-vboCVDhaTfAUAgljCI8tm_K57AQ/s640/image3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pev9fr8R1PuSNbJmdY108pxsbznoiPpo3msTz3x4DgHomVFTBOT-4SA2X_3qz54Addy6Kxn1Bv6sFdLwulROpANHqVHjS7HiJa5slgo43qv-iPI-vboCVDhaTfAUAgljCI8tm_K57AQ/w640-h480/image3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Skagit Valley sunset, courtesy Jennifer Angelis</b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></span><p></p><p></p><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The Beauty of Skagit Valley</span></span><br /></h1><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I snagged another sunset photo this week," my stepdaughter, Jennifer reported. "Tony and I were returning home from a dinner date in Anacortes and had to pull over to take this one."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This has been a sensational springtime in the Northwest, with colorful sunrises and sunsets almost every day. I had to share these images Jennifer took the other evening in the Skagit Valley.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">She admits she was temped to take 400 pictures but controlled herself and only took 399. Her camera phone amplified the color a little bit, but still ...</span></span><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqitvHqThpsowf7XYnsIHZlaDI7WmYmMi_QrmbpPNJ3euJFx1Wde6e9TIEbXt4WmQrNCnRTHaWi6B1xoaQi9GfIuBtqsAQHweiZKiyeU52DxqQWNgK_00e2Vy3DmAVSVa2DS7FYct-d28/s640/image2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqitvHqThpsowf7XYnsIHZlaDI7WmYmMi_QrmbpPNJ3euJFx1Wde6e9TIEbXt4WmQrNCnRTHaWi6B1xoaQi9GfIuBtqsAQHweiZKiyeU52DxqQWNgK_00e2Vy3DmAVSVa2DS7FYct-d28/w640-h480/image2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Photographs courtesy Jennifer Angelis</span></span></b></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNj330gaYarX-y5riwJO-uKzbibs5cPKg_R-yOTABSNP3Nu0s3gjU6RsUOZR_gZsz2g3es1TXSbFtXipHHDZhXb2py26mNEO4cKC9hkkmN66dNBcanNh3C0asuo6ACQMwFEo8tYJGOtTY/s640/image1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNj330gaYarX-y5riwJO-uKzbibs5cPKg_R-yOTABSNP3Nu0s3gjU6RsUOZR_gZsz2g3es1TXSbFtXipHHDZhXb2py26mNEO4cKC9hkkmN66dNBcanNh3C0asuo6ACQMwFEo8tYJGOtTY/w646-h486/image1.jpeg" width="646" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hshWl7XH3ERV-qRT57fSVL5lwIr2GIqjN6JLKugJwKTdWds6nPqTmyjLYi0QIvGe0A74mCT2EWoAWDkuRhp0fSeBFpbpXvrFykLf_d0WNTOXQUV8IvlssMdHYkosyppWirbEzwh2f0I/s640/image0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hshWl7XH3ERV-qRT57fSVL5lwIr2GIqjN6JLKugJwKTdWds6nPqTmyjLYi0QIvGe0A74mCT2EWoAWDkuRhp0fSeBFpbpXvrFykLf_d0WNTOXQUV8IvlssMdHYkosyppWirbEzwh2f0I/w640-h480/image0.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>
</p><h1 style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Conversation With an Old Man</span></span><br /></span></h1><p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>The sandwich board by the
highway says it all.</span></span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></i><p align="center" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span>Burgers<br />
Cod<br />
Jesus Died for Your Sins</span></b></span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></i><p align="center" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span> </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span> </span></span></i></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>Cub reporter Matt Carlsen
holes up inside the takeout joint with the owner, Halvor Halvorsen. They face
each other across a cheap, wooden table draped with a plastic, red-and-white,
checkerboard cloth. Matt’s steno pad full of scribbles lies between them. </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></i></p><p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span> </span></span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></i><p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>“You’ve asked me a lot of
kuh-veschuns,” points out the muscular, bald-headed cook in the grease-stained
apron. “Mind if I ask you one?” </span></span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></i><p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span>The rookie journalist
cringes, dreading what the old guy might spring on him. “Are you safed?”</span></span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span></span></span></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CHkt9OJSxHcAtu-iaSXq0-wzihAbEcFuRiacYh1PZQpu6Eibn51jytUSnUebTnK7dnKzEDE_bg_kvWq1ocjsFbXPF17w0miKiGnQtReW0sJcuPusBPW8McWny3I9d6NUopDXHEHH-TY/s724/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+8.04.40+AM.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="475" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CHkt9OJSxHcAtu-iaSXq0-wzihAbEcFuRiacYh1PZQpu6Eibn51jytUSnUebTnK7dnKzEDE_bg_kvWq1ocjsFbXPF17w0miKiGnQtReW0sJcuPusBPW8McWny3I9d6NUopDXHEHH-TY/w263-h400/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+8.04.40+AM.jpg" width="263" /></a></span></i></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>This is the opening of <i>Halvor's Handout,</i> one of 43 short stories and essays in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Outdoorsy-Male-Short-Stories-Essays/dp/1533557373/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">Outdoorsy Male, </a>my one-and-only collection of short pieces. In the last few years I've focused on writing mysteries, but <i>Outdoorsy Male </i>remains a big favorite of many readers.</span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span></span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><i>Halvor's Handout </i>is based on an actual experience I had, embellished with a large helping of fiction.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>As a young reporter you get some screwy assignments, often human-interest profiles, and my editor had the idea there must be a good story in this old guy. When I saw his sandwich board, I had a feeling it was going to be trouble. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>The old Norwegian worked me over pretty hard that day and, of course, I never went back, but I did drive past his business many times in the following years. Eventually, it was no longer open, and the blackberry vines began the long process of taking it back to the earth. But Halvor left one thing behind that intrigued me. I get into that in the story.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Here's what one Amazon reviewer wrote about <i>Outdoorsy Male. </i></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><i><span class="cr-widget-FocalReviews" data-hook="cr-widget-FocalReviews"><span class="a-size-base review-text" data-hook="review-body"><span>I
am enjoying this book immensly. The stories are short enough so you
can take a quick break and refresh your soul. The author leaves you
thinking about the storyline long after you have read the story. Dan
has a way with words that captivates you hook, line, and sinker right
into the plot. Some stories will have you shedding a tear, others
laughing out loud and then the unthinkable shock of it all and the
question could this be true? Do yourself a favor and buy this book it
will not disappoint and it most certainly would make an excellent gift.
</span></span></span><br /></i></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>The book is available from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Outdoorsy-Male-Short-Stories-Essays/dp/1533557373/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">Amazon in paperback and Kindle</a> versions, and also from <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">Kingfisher Bookstore</a> in Coupeville. Other island shops may have a copy or two -- I haven't checked in a while. Recently, I lowered the Kindle price to $2.99. It had been $5.99.</span></span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Health Update</span></span></span></h1><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>I know some readers are looking for an update on my medical status. There has been no change, no improvement or encouraging trend. I'll let you know if there is, but for now I am just focused on writing the blog as long as I am able.<br /></span></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";"> <br /></span></span></i></h1><p><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";">A synopsis of my mysteries, to help you choose.</span></span></i><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I do sometimes draw upon personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>. <br /></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
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and the collection of user-data.<span style="font-family: times;"><span></span></span></span>
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</style></p><p></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-38843931349877015282021-05-22T00:30:00.268-07:002021-07-03T16:04:40.463-07:00453 -- My Forest Education<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdxD1jbJ0ftvO_BZgmOPiZrQT5-4-bs8DklPo9MysD_XxMQ-vrZ8xpxwqXLpEWnIql4Q_BliXVunCaFI3Ktfz8aOCbgpVw3ELEAnLwdTLqCC696aRylmMUgRwg5kYexqsyAKLr4onqMY/s1901/IMG_2289_2_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1267" data-original-width="1901" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdxD1jbJ0ftvO_BZgmOPiZrQT5-4-bs8DklPo9MysD_XxMQ-vrZ8xpxwqXLpEWnIql4Q_BliXVunCaFI3Ktfz8aOCbgpVw3ELEAnLwdTLqCC696aRylmMUgRwg5kYexqsyAKLr4onqMY/w640-h426/IMG_2289_2_2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Curious visitors. <i>All photography copyright 2021 by Dan Pedersen<br /></i></span></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><i></i><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I confess it was about this time of year when my wife and I first saw this house in the woods of Whidbey Island. I say "confess" because it was springtime and we were defenseless. It was in the mid-1980s and we were on our way to visit a friend who was trying to sell his house. We overshot his driveway and instead ended up here. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"If this is it, we want it," I declared.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We didn't care for my friend's house but couldn't get this one out of our minds. The yard was glorious with color, blooms and fragrance. Emotionally, we were smitten. Rationally, it made no sense because interest rates were sky high and it was the worst possible time to buy a house, but emotion prevailed. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNkpGIo0zIVQFINkQKgYfgYDrlY0_1yuoJVoV9W9-6P1V-csRrq6dM49TZbXWz_y-D8SeJ-a3xKU8FDdiOV12ODDAk1xGfeiasXunCORfnJ4GGPYGVVXv7E2q-xu2vMsNhrcF1iw5Z0A/s1280/wisteria.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNkpGIo0zIVQFINkQKgYfgYDrlY0_1yuoJVoV9W9-6P1V-csRrq6dM49TZbXWz_y-D8SeJ-a3xKU8FDdiOV12ODDAk1xGfeiasXunCORfnJ4GGPYGVVXv7E2q-xu2vMsNhrcF1iw5Z0A/w640-h480/wisteria.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our wisteria this week. When it failed to bloom for many years, I moved it to the "holding tank" where plants go to die, and instead this is what happened.<br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For me it was a transformational move that, in time, defined my entire identity, my values and my passions. I never wanted an ordinary life in a suburban neighborhood, but an adventure. It didn't have to be someplace exotic, but did need to be someplace that would challenge me.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This place had trees and stumps, a private road and a community well serving three houses. We had neighbors but couldn't see them through the trees. We would be dependent on relationships with those neighbors, but also largely independent. <br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I thought living here would be a temporary stop on the way to something better, but could never bring myself to leave. As time passed, the adventure grew. It nurtured my reflective side and, in time, led to writing a blog and publishing books.<br /></span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsVLbHBr6Ad-Mt460JCIw9k2BezDdNBG14xTqgy3AscFb-lhwHDnoco5t_DSmP2UbmQjajydK5O5ii_fsAFa6OIhb8ISqTvNVEYaaTUA2UMzvhAT1nehp9Hz6IxvM-AbY5mrL6Uin9vEI/s2016/Yellow.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsVLbHBr6Ad-Mt460JCIw9k2BezDdNBG14xTqgy3AscFb-lhwHDnoco5t_DSmP2UbmQjajydK5O5ii_fsAFa6OIhb8ISqTvNVEYaaTUA2UMzvhAT1nehp9Hz6IxvM-AbY5mrL6Uin9vEI/w640-h480/Yellow.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't know the name of this rhody but look forward to it every spring.</span></span></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">What sold us that first day was the rhododendrons. The setting seemed like paradise on earth -- five acres of woods, blooms and lush vegetation. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I'm embarrassed that it wasn't till years later, after I gave up my commute to the city, that I began to notice the wildlife that came and went from our setting every day. My friends, Craig and Joy Johnson, deserve much of the credit for that. <br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVtrebnymYVMCiDvT4IJvK9CeAF1bfl-GtB7xnhowf_L03_8w1t9rKkS1_jhaQQW37Fc2idTzdrDH6uJp5e5zD8ZiZJ_thyphenhyphenEVyR2C-eziN7cc9qPLpHY7a0Q72lTTmEU5WJ8I2uDJ62o/s2048/IMG_2009.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVtrebnymYVMCiDvT4IJvK9CeAF1bfl-GtB7xnhowf_L03_8w1t9rKkS1_jhaQQW37Fc2idTzdrDH6uJp5e5zD8ZiZJ_thyphenhyphenEVyR2C-eziN7cc9qPLpHY7a0Q72lTTmEU5WJ8I2uDJ62o/w640-h426/IMG_2009.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Someone is always watching.<br /></span></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I also started to really notice the cycles of nature -- when birds migrate, and mate, and nest -- and look forward to each stage.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The Johnsons, of Edmonds, had just moved to Whidbey to be closer to Crockett Lake, one of their favorite birding areas. We collaborated some on a book for Washington State University Extension - Island County, called <i>Getting to the Water's Edge. </i>The Johnsons were self-publishing books like crazy, and I began to wonder if they might coach me in doing the same. </span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_WJdORgpnLEp9ZZ1EIk9h9RQd41hRv4HxJ7XfGtogJXR47PnZTRgsQv2UBOL7LvU1-9JpMJRfdQjwct-cgLnuqm1VqMFTFZWDtZxPjikp9cHpOw8k-amg-vj3pzp5vSVfze9pvT_OQw/s1280/IMG_1747+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_WJdORgpnLEp9ZZ1EIk9h9RQd41hRv4HxJ7XfGtogJXR47PnZTRgsQv2UBOL7LvU1-9JpMJRfdQjwct-cgLnuqm1VqMFTFZWDtZxPjikp9cHpOw8k-amg-vj3pzp5vSVfze9pvT_OQw/w640-h428/IMG_1747+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>A Pileated Woodpecker surveys the yard.</b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> Talking with Craig, I knew I wanted a camera that would get me close enough to the birds and wildlife for reasonably good photography. As soon as I had the camera, my love and curiosity about this wild place took off exponentially. Craig helped me publish my first book, <i>Whidbey Island's Special Places</i>, which remains a favorite in island bookstores. Later I followed up with my personal favorite, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Whidbey-Nature-Island-Life/dp/1544164017/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank"><i>Wild Whidbey</i></a><i>.</i><i> </i>Both books are available at Coupeville's Kingfisher Bookstore and some other island shops.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">That camera is old and tired now from years of hard use, but served me well.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJ0FKbX5L_6t3PQhA5l9eZMaHOjSQnFCYgvXggKBETKYghHDMgznNSqoF6QKGpgnKFQqLL7Hi6GMosjDluMQ10uHkiT0eGqfa17sZaKYSHoQagS1EJW2EriVBbpMCWTHXPla1aDtfQYI/s2048/IMG_2460_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJ0FKbX5L_6t3PQhA5l9eZMaHOjSQnFCYgvXggKBETKYghHDMgznNSqoF6QKGpgnKFQqLL7Hi6GMosjDluMQ10uHkiT0eGqfa17sZaKYSHoQagS1EJW2EriVBbpMCWTHXPla1aDtfQYI/w640-h426/IMG_2460_2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Coyotes usually vanish "like smoke," a friend says. This one in our yard was very curious and tolerant. I think it had a sweet tooth for apples that had dropped from our Gravenstein.</b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For years, Craig was a very successful freelance illustrator and watercolor artist for the maritime industry. He and Joy live in a rental home with a view of the Admiralty Straits shipping lanes. But Craig insists -- and I know it is true -- that the view he really watches is the one out the back window, of the natural area behind their house. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">That's where the birds and wildlife congregate. And that's the view I have come to watch from my own window, too. As I work at my computer, my peripheral vision is always alert to some new shape, sound or movement out there.</span></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipITMP2aqEsqVJXpIAzSx9hq5HtpKtR7wM9k6cFbeM1WM5MrPVRZQCtX5Y_88KUkHcmuvXWdq47ddqHWEoHvaWkzHlgSwWwU8kON_64TkBvSfujmjhMqiLry0l9hsJ5VlI0rTq4Xg2aZY/s949/IMG_7785.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="948" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipITMP2aqEsqVJXpIAzSx9hq5HtpKtR7wM9k6cFbeM1WM5MrPVRZQCtX5Y_88KUkHcmuvXWdq47ddqHWEoHvaWkzHlgSwWwU8kON_64TkBvSfujmjhMqiLry0l9hsJ5VlI0rTq4Xg2aZY/w640-h640/IMG_7785.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">This
raven was throwing a screaming fit, tearing brittle branches off an old tree and breaking them. I think it's a juvenile being ostracized by
the flock for some breach of social norms. The society of ravens and
crows is endlessly fascinating. </span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Living in the woods is three-dimensional, because one is surrounded by trees reaching about 100 feet up. They are home to all manner of birds and wildlife, but some of those trees posed a threat to our buildings and I set about some selective logging. Ever curious, I counted the growth rings for a sense of the seasons those trees had seen. I could tell when a tree had been open to the sky, with plenty of sunshine and rainfall for fast growth, and when it had struggled against drought and crowding. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">A human lifetime is nothing in the life of a tree, and yet even a tree's lifetime is insignificant in the life of the land. It takes </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">only </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">an instant to destroy what nature has created, but generations to restore it. I keep that in mind. I am the steward here for an instant of time. The wildlife don't belong to me. This has been their home or millennia. They will be here long after I'm gone -- I hope for many more millennia.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqM1oDFeJIqmoX8UfPCnTeSXtl8wUDoiXqZ2ZVarj-bZY-vdYjAfamdBCnJqCoXasAC4wFeFntoM4Sn5WMD-RNofmeixdPCjVc24SrwoOAeRSQ1wQG3PwOO7Uq1cQaW4fvqb2OuYHiLU/s1253/IMG_2220.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1253" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqM1oDFeJIqmoX8UfPCnTeSXtl8wUDoiXqZ2ZVarj-bZY-vdYjAfamdBCnJqCoXasAC4wFeFntoM4Sn5WMD-RNofmeixdPCjVc24SrwoOAeRSQ1wQG3PwOO7Uq1cQaW4fvqb2OuYHiLU/w640-h530/IMG_2220.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">This native Douglas Squirrel approached the deck for a closer look, no doubt hoping for a friendly handout.<br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>I came to appreciate that the trees around me had grown here through at least a century of human activity -- wars, Cold Wars, the space race, economic change and social movements. One tree whose rings I counted was growing here when one of my ancestors crossed the prairie on the Oregon Trail in the 1800s and homesteaded in the Klickitat Indian country of south central Washington.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">One thing that never changes is that every fall, there comes a morning when the Douglas Squirrels decide it is time to strip those trees of their cones. It's their winter food supply, and when the work begins, it's a <i>phenomenon</i> -- cones raining down from the treetops, bonking off metal roofs and, I swear, coming closer to me than you can explain by sheer chance. <br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZFcEnRoy8mdM7ZrWyDIqfcbMHwCNw4izcKtOFj7-A1npWOpGg1txiKbAbOIUgLJhfeMO2-hwK2YG9qju-1QjYa3528NFpVl5AIUBkiXSe7xMmcxw43Eh_3AVEhvSOrjHhAwckBX2dlU/s2016/IMG_1497.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZFcEnRoy8mdM7ZrWyDIqfcbMHwCNw4izcKtOFj7-A1npWOpGg1txiKbAbOIUgLJhfeMO2-hwK2YG9qju-1QjYa3528NFpVl5AIUBkiXSe7xMmcxw43Eh_3AVEhvSOrjHhAwckBX2dlU/w633-h476/IMG_1497.JPG" width="633" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>It's tough to beat a magnolia on a blue-sky day.</b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Living here has taught me to listen to the birds, squirrels and coyotes. They are constantly alert to what's happening, and mated pairs often communicate back and forth about food discoveries, especially the big Pileated Woodpeckers. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Some birds will even mimic the calls of predators to drive other birds away. By paying attention to their vocalizations, I often trace the source to some drama I would otherwise miss.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuyXeSupMZK4AcrfDKDJW6zocn9lLA1HUm-s9-Gph9PsVx7aX2_Utc65Q-OnE650wPdw0-8ZbKSqD3i75gQj96ZjjaAZxDVSYctl7HLPLQv8yPnRG6oCmNLvu1vf9YmHbKwyOsNBEVZo/s500/IMG_9871.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="500" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuyXeSupMZK4AcrfDKDJW6zocn9lLA1HUm-s9-Gph9PsVx7aX2_Utc65Q-OnE650wPdw0-8ZbKSqD3i75gQj96ZjjaAZxDVSYctl7HLPLQv8yPnRG6oCmNLvu1vf9YmHbKwyOsNBEVZo/w640-h410/IMG_9871.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">It would be easy to overlook the smaller creatures that fly, but over time we've come to recognize them and pay attention. This includes several species of dragonflies and butterflies that add color to our garden. Each is meaningful because its presence tells us something about the habitat in which we live. As with all life in our yard, we take care not to poison them or destroy their habitat in pursuit of short-term, misguided gain.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">One thing I've learned from Craig is that we are not separate from nature; we are part of it. The more we respect and care for all the creatures that live alongside us, the better our own quality of life will be -- both physical and psychological. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Living in the woods has been far more than an adventure. It has been calming and grounding, the education of a lifetime and the best therapy in the world.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><i>For more about adventurous living, keep reading and scrolling down for Guy Burneko's account of the black bear that came visiting this week. But first... </i><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO79MOnOXPkMwYkrvfHSGhTgl1lHArQNh0eV7-VwFxmx418_8TEXTf_MwCZkZbC8qGKH9OXHHMmDvX_3YatDUD7dPiFG5gfrxKj9btDKcM2Mo0skGQZ803WDUBzTCoWPPnZwokNA45Hw/s1440/187265710_4004732002895253_6661439441341010207_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO79MOnOXPkMwYkrvfHSGhTgl1lHArQNh0eV7-VwFxmx418_8TEXTf_MwCZkZbC8qGKH9OXHHMmDvX_3YatDUD7dPiFG5gfrxKj9btDKcM2Mo0skGQZ803WDUBzTCoWPPnZwokNA45Hw/w640-h640/187265710_4004732002895253_6661439441341010207_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Courtesy Meg Olson<br /></span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table></span><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Yes!<i> Final Cover-Up</i> Is Now Available at Kingfisher Bookstore <br /></span></h1></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">If you've been waiting to purchase your copy of <i>Final Cover-Up</i> locally, the wait is over. Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville now has it in stock. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">For some time, I'd been wanting to base a mystery in Oak Harbor and use the setting to shed light on what life was like here before the settlers arrived. In <i>Final Cover-Up,</i> I tell the fictional story of a modern crime and how the perpetrators attempted to cover it up, placing the bodies where they thought they'd never be found, or mistaken for Salish remains if they were.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">"This one delves into the Salish history of the island and also commemorates Dan’s longtime canine companion Duncan," writes bookstore owner, Meg Olson.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">It's not a "dog story" per se, but does reflect my love of dogs and how they enrich our lives. Writing about Duncan brought back some very sweet memories. I had fun including a black lab that belongs to Roger Gray, a good friend and colleague of sheriff's deputy Katarina Brown, my main character. Roger and his dog like to sing together.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Duncan was my silent partner and constant companion for the entire decade of writing my mysteries. I did some of my best thinking on early-morning walks with him around our quiet village of Langley.<br /></span></span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">As with all my mysteries, <i>Final Cover-Up</i> reflects a strong sense-of-place and love of nature. I think an author owes the reader new information and insights that will stay with him long after the mystery is solved.</span> <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kingfisher is an excellent place to find all 10 of my "Final" mysteries.</span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxjNLC5QXrD1INmJMhlDdUZLVB_JB9bBqpSlrQHy7jUMeeuilSs5_GNdmza-00nf4m7i0PkdNOK30DzljsoBEKC3Lyzr3xuoyLLKjZE5lJ5TvkkMHotegweKGtx_I-7MkBhDPfUjrddg/s2016/187997455_10220185833775861_7623552750174349994_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxjNLC5QXrD1INmJMhlDdUZLVB_JB9bBqpSlrQHy7jUMeeuilSs5_GNdmza-00nf4m7i0PkdNOK30DzljsoBEKC3Lyzr3xuoyLLKjZE5lJ5TvkkMHotegweKGtx_I-7MkBhDPfUjrddg/w480-h640/187997455_10220185833775861_7623552750174349994_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Black Bear courtesy Guy Burneko<br /></span></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Bear in the Back Yard</span></span><br /></h1><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Finally, I really must share this. Since moving from Langley to Asheville, North Carolina, Guy Burneko and Greta D'Amico have been getting to know their new wildlife neighbors. They looked out the back window this week to find this black bear walking atop their fence.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">"For a while it was on the back deck and front yard," Guy said. "It was a treat. I even got greeted with a little growl."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto" lang="en">He added, "I'd
known from past experience in Alaska that black bears are easier to
scare off than brown/Grizzly...but still...a bear's a bear."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto" lang="en"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto" lang="en">Bears are common in Asheville and seem interested mostly in backyard bird feeders, unsecured garbage cans and other easy sources of food. </span> <br /></span></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times";">A synopsis of my mysteries, to help you choose.</span></span></i><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I write from personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is available at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, and in paperback and Kindle from Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
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link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><p></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-5706519146776072632021-05-15T00:00:00.004-07:002021-07-03T16:03:53.923-07:00452 -- Atmospherics<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRsajHJqjshJDhDQT0TsTDWElRAC7qaT4ud7ndaVZI98b9ZQ_fYRLbPPmpozGx5T9txzInAPuXuO0FKFGbWLgY-O8-p9bJviUfbJzX9P18ElXdyiTtJLVzcWz1Zh7fjlU5P7BkYhF6LQ/s1806/April+17.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1806" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRsajHJqjshJDhDQT0TsTDWElRAC7qaT4ud7ndaVZI98b9ZQ_fYRLbPPmpozGx5T9txzInAPuXuO0FKFGbWLgY-O8-p9bJviUfbJzX9P18ElXdyiTtJLVzcWz1Zh7fjlU5P7BkYhF6LQ/w640-h426/April+17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This April sunrise photograph by my friend, Jack Hartt, really speaks to me. He took it on my birthday and I completely missed that day, along with the whole last half of April, in the E.R. in Coupeville, followed by a long stay in a hospital room in Everett.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuaBF73q-ibdN9_2yq2M18RRdz_LcGmny-IXgzWTtAumy3SYkrrCxEcA0SwuWyxRAsB4zjhYa338OC9PpGeJ-1UOv4BTT6caQivXq6K6pOfWTp6WflRb7Q8W9NA505y0RzEfFAi34zFKY/s822/185108425_10158958371949519_5588153423615274253_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="822" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuaBF73q-ibdN9_2yq2M18RRdz_LcGmny-IXgzWTtAumy3SYkrrCxEcA0SwuWyxRAsB4zjhYa338OC9PpGeJ-1UOv4BTT6caQivXq6K6pOfWTp6WflRb7Q8W9NA505y0RzEfFAi34zFKY/w640-h420/185108425_10158958371949519_5588153423615274253_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Oh bravo, Jack! <i>Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</i></span><i><br /></i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Now, I am now going back and experiencing the beauty of those spring days in Jack's photography. This season is such a feast for the senses. Jack is outdoors every day filling his soul with beauty and writing about it with the voice of a poet. He has an eye for the moods of nature and gets out at first-and-last light to catch them. He also knows from experience some of the very best places to showcase them.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrIhmw6iZjVYMNUF7PNRpxNM3VlsTxtNFiD9P3xLVVusMUGVnJqjew9R2WC31nvDAB01fyCGfmZS3KNMUQwC_j22_YA83rBB65KIx7Ju-n9izuuhkajR52EsncIBu0qc1D1PMknMy35U/s600/183137909_10158948031169519_4523616382262554945_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="600" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrIhmw6iZjVYMNUF7PNRpxNM3VlsTxtNFiD9P3xLVVusMUGVnJqjew9R2WC31nvDAB01fyCGfmZS3KNMUQwC_j22_YA83rBB65KIx7Ju-n9izuuhkajR52EsncIBu0qc1D1PMknMy35U/w640-h416/183137909_10158948031169519_4523616382262554945_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif03mkt42Rm_aWuEPbX23I3OJx6csFzRdTx6vASeyd-2VErqvOc_KcEYfbrmt6LUuFOo8-zG1Eq5ofjgxjKstsvobzJ86mXkg6zt99EqXf3HC35GV4fLFUj_r7QEtXjz4iY_9faUB5lMw/s597/183694918_10158948030869519_522059399405982853_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="597" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif03mkt42Rm_aWuEPbX23I3OJx6csFzRdTx6vASeyd-2VErqvOc_KcEYfbrmt6LUuFOo8-zG1Eq5ofjgxjKstsvobzJ86mXkg6zt99EqXf3HC35GV4fLFUj_r7QEtXjz4iY_9faUB5lMw/w640-h424/183694918_10158948030869519_522059399405982853_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">On May 6, Jack took these images from the summit of Mt. Erie. "<span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">You
could feel the weather brewing up something special all day. Look what
it came up with! Rainbows to the southeast, sunset to the northwest,
beauty all around, what an amazingly glorious display this evening at
Mt. Erie."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Ysn8I3Y0HY8yFnxxewqHmH6jQM9wk_36aSTXv5aLEuTdPSeHnyFwVZ9NmGRvOCE6kvROtYbeG2Lo7kIkBYoFIMdkF2I7HLVYmGCPl4jUEJqR8Kohg0YLr02snoYFamPYjC0K4N0S4FU/s810/Jann+sunset+submarine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="810" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Ysn8I3Y0HY8yFnxxewqHmH6jQM9wk_36aSTXv5aLEuTdPSeHnyFwVZ9NmGRvOCE6kvROtYbeG2Lo7kIkBYoFIMdkF2I7HLVYmGCPl4jUEJqR8Kohg0YLr02snoYFamPYjC0K4N0S4FU/w640-h426/Jann+sunset+submarine.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b>Copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</b></i></span><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Jann Ledbetter was out with her camera on May 6 also, and got this ethereal image on Admiralty Straits she calls "sunset submarine." It's so unusual I just had to include it. Jann and I don't know for sure it's a submarine, but if it isn't, we don't know what else it would be, either.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFSuS-3vcIZ2xwe8pi2PRIxpSrQudk75xws4koflo_icAFd1gM2bEo5c6dhBKTZNkJiYAujBJt7R_yEkmGsFrAqwEyQDkySROYkiqF07d3l81ewePOqMaEcPtEfMhCScR2WKJK4YdGI4/s593/176697333_10158914194474519_5487142603047146348_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="593" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFSuS-3vcIZ2xwe8pi2PRIxpSrQudk75xws4koflo_icAFd1gM2bEo5c6dhBKTZNkJiYAujBJt7R_yEkmGsFrAqwEyQDkySROYkiqF07d3l81ewePOqMaEcPtEfMhCScR2WKJK4YdGI4/w640-h426/176697333_10158914194474519_5487142603047146348_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Here's another of Jack's moody images, taken April 21 right in Anacortes. This was on the northern side of Cap Sante, "right near the restaurant."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">But not all of Jack's photographs are subtle and ethereal. Tulips are so bold, they slap you in the face. You just have to hang on for the ride.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P8wvGHAbtFw-RPONUX-UqDfmw9Em3juEz5gfT9R8O4jnFgzdmcjaqsHkJhCqWlmQpWYn_gVc6Ng5A7dW95SpPF4mobNGEKDOyXoWz90bJgTj1fbzTHH0YuiV5_7G-RCFwfdtHY70IHs/s592/174510126_10158905104464519_4694911531448738559_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="592" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P8wvGHAbtFw-RPONUX-UqDfmw9Em3juEz5gfT9R8O4jnFgzdmcjaqsHkJhCqWlmQpWYn_gVc6Ng5A7dW95SpPF4mobNGEKDOyXoWz90bJgTj1fbzTHH0YuiV5_7G-RCFwfdtHY70IHs/w640-h428/174510126_10158905104464519_4694911531448738559_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScj8lMb15hKuoq2_Q4fsoYapuhwHUPQFi_mluTAUeh0L3WuLBFF8CZI5vGVF2eotmLpo37yoR4FaXtC_QV2prRbbukqmSyTw7JgZ-LLDNHxilU6ZjJwlyLAEC6Z8fap3Vq1vy4UMGuSQ/s600/175383469_10158905103774519_7666148797761073441_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="600" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScj8lMb15hKuoq2_Q4fsoYapuhwHUPQFi_mluTAUeh0L3WuLBFF8CZI5vGVF2eotmLpo37yoR4FaXtC_QV2prRbbukqmSyTw7JgZ-LLDNHxilU6ZjJwlyLAEC6Z8fap3Vq1vy4UMGuSQ/w640-h420/175383469_10158905103774519_7666148797761073441_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOMB9RJFPw9aR9SiS9Hxb63N4_Dg8XVqxntK9tNl_9sZY6BUUxcI_YOWGxf2SXutjJeiYGsGGcJi5ldb_WN8iAsQzGBxEZb7VSBDqzR19ptDIfyTMdzMGo_35n4M199o2pkp0eRUp5mI/s810/176252532_10158913490564519_3379440164004064072_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="810" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOMB9RJFPw9aR9SiS9Hxb63N4_Dg8XVqxntK9tNl_9sZY6BUUxcI_YOWGxf2SXutjJeiYGsGGcJi5ldb_WN8iAsQzGBxEZb7VSBDqzR19ptDIfyTMdzMGo_35n4M199o2pkp0eRUp5mI/w640-h426/176252532_10158913490564519_3379440164004064072_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Tulip season has come and gone, but I'm having a good time looking back at Jack's images of their explosive color. I laugh because he has an eye for the outlier among them -- the lone yellow or red tulip that got mixed up with the wrong crowd.</span></span></span><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7b5M4PHO5SHqHM9adwZjMvV5gbZ4BnGCyNh4vpkd-NNJOsGZYUPGH5upL-x97g2z3zfKWk9nOnRKQYd4rI4FlV4dZ9BvfQw2RY7Pdbe0crCAosh0baqjFVmK41ntwSTOTyK212IqLXA/s592/174850722_10158905104199519_3307834133491703480_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="592" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7b5M4PHO5SHqHM9adwZjMvV5gbZ4BnGCyNh4vpkd-NNJOsGZYUPGH5upL-x97g2z3zfKWk9nOnRKQYd4rI4FlV4dZ9BvfQw2RY7Pdbe0crCAosh0baqjFVmK41ntwSTOTyK212IqLXA/w640-h428/174850722_10158905104199519_3307834133491703480_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></b></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As for me, I realized this week that what keeps me going -- keeps me waking up in the morning -- is how much I enjoy the dialogue with those who read this blog and write to me with their comments on my mysteries. Those are the parts of me I will leave behind, and I'm intensely curious what you think. If you've read <i>Final Cover-Up</i> and can take a moment to leave a comment on Amazon's website, that would mean a lot to me. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click on these words for the link to the book's Amazon page. </a></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9sfDeIvnyTxHlvodRYw55XIE-S-xYRg9elCo-Jz5a7kJMZI90ZuG91rBA58IV7Ig98quxCVbpq6jgGTrvaQhti-Bf0wWAWOiZMADmseSxxCZnEv640bUnTcw2Y-WFpS0_BSNHqepspQ/s1654/Screen+Shot+2021-03-16+at+11.37.28+AM-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1654" data-original-width="1104" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9sfDeIvnyTxHlvodRYw55XIE-S-xYRg9elCo-Jz5a7kJMZI90ZuG91rBA58IV7Ig98quxCVbpq6jgGTrvaQhti-Bf0wWAWOiZMADmseSxxCZnEv640bUnTcw2Y-WFpS0_BSNHqepspQ/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-03-16+at+11.37.28+AM-1.png" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNjVUjMAOhSeVRVWP1NY7ImmfXwBS6-B0NE1IlmeTMSaWw-26W6KlBjuT1VknLqUooYl6gvAF4jBaT7M-aZUTnDNUQph8QoFo6fkQ8PQ4v-MpNmaTwMNS2QRK5qyP92NaBKsGwjchh14/s1280/IMG_3442.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="965" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNjVUjMAOhSeVRVWP1NY7ImmfXwBS6-B0NE1IlmeTMSaWw-26W6KlBjuT1VknLqUooYl6gvAF4jBaT7M-aZUTnDNUQph8QoFo6fkQ8PQ4v-MpNmaTwMNS2QRK5qyP92NaBKsGwjchh14/s320/IMG_3442.jpg" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Readers seem to like the appearance of my long-time sidekick, Duncan, in this book.<br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Shipments have been slow to arrive from the East Coast, but if you've been waiting to get your copy at Kingfisher Bookstore in Coupeville, I think they will have copies next week. Check with them to see if it has arrived. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Like all who are approaching the end of life, I try to balance quality against quantity</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> of life</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">. The days are hard and I told my palliative nurse I never wanted to just "hang on." Washington has a Death With Dignity act you can research online.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Intellectually, it was always my intention to be in control of choosing the time to go. It's a harder calculation than I expected. Though my body is weary, my mind remains engaged and I'm greatly enjoying being in touch with so many friends. What you have to ask yourself is, "Will I ever feel better again? Or is this the best I can ever hope for, and is it enough to justify the struggle?"<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">One of my long-time friends chose, as his moment to die, a beautiful day, sitting on his covered porch, looking out across his garden and the land he loved, with his wife and daughters beside him. I think he got it exactly right.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQilx-bVhlWczonJMhmlannBK6ylws6YrylA5jP5bpBZXHzi6XQPNfpQFc9KQbCsDhyphenhyphenV8A7uAb7XoQoE51LSbwIVHWPYAtcyAt6z0TgJtTT8Vwv0t3OaXsQcW19xyGIFEE4H5JtjFZrWQ/s687/IMG_7023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="687" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQilx-bVhlWczonJMhmlannBK6ylws6YrylA5jP5bpBZXHzi6XQPNfpQFc9KQbCsDhyphenhyphenV8A7uAb7XoQoE51LSbwIVHWPYAtcyAt6z0TgJtTT8Vwv0t3OaXsQcW19xyGIFEE4H5JtjFZrWQ/w640-h464/IMG_7023.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">An unexpected treat this week was that my Violet-green Swallows returned and started checking out the nest box they've used in our yard for many years. They are such graceful fliers I could watch them for hours and probably will. They represent the eternal optimism of nature.<span><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span>I started some chemotherapy for acute monocytic leukemia on Monday. With my low blood counts, it is very dicey but I'm giving it some time to see what happens. As I've told many of you in emails, I'll continue writing the blog as long as I'm able.</span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I write from personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is not yet in bookstores but is available in paperback and Kindle on Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
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and the collection of user-data.</span></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-75787475644011213022021-05-08T01:00:00.003-07:002021-07-03T16:03:20.055-07:00451 -- Foxes, Coyotes, Owls and Otters<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh8xWa3upJetGefus8-OcxJOXyNAxkN-982LRDklvQH7ArHxTJlkx1El7lCXQnp4D4wUKgu_RZ_Weoko1TsKtv3mNqXF_hkLBdCcQI-_48f28cFGqCea-J_03h0XvwFp6vQHznnZyjyM/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh8xWa3upJetGefus8-OcxJOXyNAxkN-982LRDklvQH7ArHxTJlkx1El7lCXQnp4D4wUKgu_RZ_Weoko1TsKtv3mNqXF_hkLBdCcQI-_48f28cFGqCea-J_03h0XvwFp6vQHznnZyjyM/w640-h426/177575646_10226610617870483_5643644080360229647_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Red Foxes copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We don't have many foxes on Whidbey Island, but Jann Ledbetter got up at 4 a.m. and photographed this mama and her six-week-old kits after an early-morning ferryboat run to a place that has them. Even though mom may not look very red, these are Red Foxes.<br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The preeminent goal of any good wildlife photographer is not to stress the animal or expose it to disturbance by less-experienced admirers who might get too close, so she and I are both being coy about the location. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"There were four black ones and two red ones," Jann said. "She's such a dedicated, hardworking mama. It's hard to pick a favorite photo but this one is near the top of my list."</span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg381V2qif09ovVpIcaJSoMwVcGJNGC2-N87MgY2LOwFVWsbICdF0HeLaQE_Qxiv8_SraD0_Cr7d5TAxNK7aWaCK2edaxcvpZn1Q0v9OAz8In_iD0HPkMurVZxS5VSsM1vLPY1JKpkmL8w/s1440/180816113_10226654510407769_963735026965606723_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1440" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg381V2qif09ovVpIcaJSoMwVcGJNGC2-N87MgY2LOwFVWsbICdF0HeLaQE_Qxiv8_SraD0_Cr7d5TAxNK7aWaCK2edaxcvpZn1Q0v9OAz8In_iD0HPkMurVZxS5VSsM1vLPY1JKpkmL8w/w598-h397/180816113_10226654510407769_963735026965606723_n.jpg" width="598" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Red Fox kit, copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</b></i><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Here's another image from that shoot. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Jann has been coming up with inspiring images all spring. I love all canines. A special favorite of mine is the Whidbey Island coyote in the photo below, carrying a rodent it's going to eat. The lighting is beautiful and the animal is simply elegant.<br /></span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpMIWlqK4uqytVyNLZuDcYIw4hVVjnx2tTGIypVhxdHL4b2aajhcMfTU4K_CSfj4Vca6GvVxFGTlueIUVO7qBJnX_si2HzOdmkERUYz8hSaCUsqUS0lQs0YGRTSE09whjll2rcUTE-C8/s1050/161740412_10226322606670383_8236279554250322587_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1050" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpMIWlqK4uqytVyNLZuDcYIw4hVVjnx2tTGIypVhxdHL4b2aajhcMfTU4K_CSfj4Vca6GvVxFGTlueIUVO7qBJnX_si2HzOdmkERUYz8hSaCUsqUS0lQs0YGRTSE09whjll2rcUTE-C8/w640-h408/161740412_10226322606670383_8236279554250322587_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Whidbey Island coyote with meal, copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwtRsN2beFLV_F9lCKQtEgNdFESYjc3bvpl8l9FVNkAj5E-iLiV1v0l0kW0B5uejw4MlA7WMtZjV_z0GrZbmtkd-vzbi_H9aMHwWYsVpNmEDnN8rk8dCoJi5zrURObyElwEO63-j7sSI/s1050/161781645_10226332052026511_4805525565735718540_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1050" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwtRsN2beFLV_F9lCKQtEgNdFESYjc3bvpl8l9FVNkAj5E-iLiV1v0l0kW0B5uejw4MlA7WMtZjV_z0GrZbmtkd-vzbi_H9aMHwWYsVpNmEDnN8rk8dCoJi5zrURObyElwEO63-j7sSI/w640-h434/161781645_10226332052026511_4805525565735718540_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Here's a sunset image from March, with rim lighting. <br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Recently, while I've been mostly incapacitated by illness, Jann's images have been my window on the natural world.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYvC0tpqhgaaLK1b-tKwm2ixtJOcOjJphwbAcBOpjj4-br1D0tw06SMurrZpP_s8G5huZ1L867aHAWqTWs-ApWaV64D8-xBTeX-JjPPUBIm_Hdi7vVI8aen9Lm3Ej-L3zDggmt9_JpQg/s1600/178827442_10226629169054251_4045421668818625978_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYvC0tpqhgaaLK1b-tKwm2ixtJOcOjJphwbAcBOpjj4-br1D0tw06SMurrZpP_s8G5huZ1L867aHAWqTWs-ApWaV64D8-xBTeX-JjPPUBIm_Hdi7vVI8aen9Lm3Ej-L3zDggmt9_JpQg/w640-h426/178827442_10226629169054251_4045421668818625978_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Owlets, copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</b></i><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In my blog of April 10 I shared some images by Cara Hefflinger of Great-horned owlets in a nest in Coupeville. Jann has kept her eye on that same owl family and recently got this image of the growing fledglings. "</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">This
one is special because it shows that these owls have the ability to rotate
their heads 270 degrees. Note that the body of the Owlet on the right is facing
the other direction!! Fun stuff!"</span></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id"></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-ClmbmOGd7AvWWMT_5kfPtpVEJeGQfaxFtmWY_pddln8ZQt7no-s9zulexZ1nGGPEwNTSyg6I4kkE-6kh78x8xjshpMYzLHEE-SSSeVJODQbnlzTAaLcSHvGvbQJh3QQ6voe-GU2dLI/s414/179336899_10226634661391556_3423378717913328463_n.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-ClmbmOGd7AvWWMT_5kfPtpVEJeGQfaxFtmWY_pddln8ZQt7no-s9zulexZ1nGGPEwNTSyg6I4kkE-6kh78x8xjshpMYzLHEE-SSSeVJODQbnlzTAaLcSHvGvbQJh3QQ6voe-GU2dLI/w640-h640/179336899_10226634661391556_3423378717913328463_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id"></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">River otter with flounder, photos copyright 2021 Jann Ledbetter</span></span></b></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id"></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHk_r31Ot4FMF6lzsDl2WJicg2Ns7jQXO9JAdafJ0MDP0SM-p8QefEAfOPywI6OqG-u2OHdMdq5nPozmC-o8_3aBa7BLaeCYdoFnjv2lKwo3YW37jZ1Xs0npBP7zGb-p4El73fYJmRPM/s1600/20210504-_Q2A5985-Edit-Edit.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHk_r31Ot4FMF6lzsDl2WJicg2Ns7jQXO9JAdafJ0MDP0SM-p8QefEAfOPywI6OqG-u2OHdMdq5nPozmC-o8_3aBa7BLaeCYdoFnjv2lKwo3YW37jZ1Xs0npBP7zGb-p4El73fYJmRPM/w640-h426/20210504-_Q2A5985-Edit-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">Good wildlife photography isn't luck; it's work. Here's another recent image of Jann's, of a river otter with a flounder it caught on a west-side beach of central Whidbey.</span></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">It's been nearly two weeks since my release from eight days of nip-and-tuck treatment for leukemia at Providence Hospital. I'm very much in limbo but slightly surprised and taking things a day at a time. I had to talk my way out, because my doctors wanted to continue testing, medicating and monitoring me almost hourly, which was rapidly destroying my will to live.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">My arms are still black and blue from countless IV connections, electrodes to monitor my heart, and blood work and blood pressure checks. <br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">"If it was up to me, I wouldn't release you," said a nurse leader I called "Squeaky" because she always cleaned my IV lines until you could hear them squeak. But she understood how weary I was of the spiritless hospital and helped me pack. I don't regret the decision to come home and take my chances. When I saw Sue parked out front of a deserted reception lounge at 8 pm I felt like I was running to the getaway car.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">I've gotten so much done since then, even while sleeping most of each day, and exchanged email with many of you. I haven't felt well enough to have visitors.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id">My prognosis is quite poor, so I expect we are down to the last blog or two. If I don't get another chance to say it, I'll miss our Saturday chats, but all good things must come to an end. I'll write again if I can. If I don't, thank you all, and I wish you good things.</span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different
kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in
print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they
eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I write from personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>.
Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery
merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick
of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about
Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is not yet in bookstores, and I don't have any copies either, but is available in paperback and Kindle on Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0hpfvmrgzqv66sw1bc1et5uqloi732d6dik7dh3paht8s03o8a8c37x1jkeod5gw0nxhoafnmaigsh9s9d3f4x2emfe6kdd0rmau55g9wc8b282ybiv3no6dbjq4qci2qa3bd9o3vknj5qynhoo9gr5id"> </span></span></span></p><p></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-38729878918738026032021-05-01T00:30:00.066-07:002021-07-03T16:02:17.047-07:00450 -- Date Hot Russian Girl<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi869a-OecOGvBuFjMCtO6HVFPPLrGUmcx3PzjuK2i7JCnKbNJcqZK1ZbQWzQtxAfaRZ4pmbue-ay8sA8EwerPvn-eimb4jK6rxkSYNTZWiAmGuBsL4IkNbrIlgSsJSwaGvySJt8Pg8zYc/s2048/IMG_3444_3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi869a-OecOGvBuFjMCtO6HVFPPLrGUmcx3PzjuK2i7JCnKbNJcqZK1ZbQWzQtxAfaRZ4pmbue-ay8sA8EwerPvn-eimb4jK6rxkSYNTZWiAmGuBsL4IkNbrIlgSsJSwaGvySJt8Pg8zYc/w640-h426/IMG_3444_3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Not a hot Russian girl but Duncan, who appears in my final mystery</span></b>.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"You're still alive?" is the joke around here when my wife, Sue, comes downstairs in the morning. No one is more surprised than me, but each new day is an opportunity to thank a few people. In the last week I've heard from scores of friends and strangers, generous with their memories and well-wishes. It is beyond humbling. I try to acknowledge these notes but the job is overwhelming. I'm too weak to see visitors, and I've never been a phone guy.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Still, things could be worse. I got an email yesterday, "Date Hot Russian Girl -- United States Only." It helped my blood pressure. Maybe I've still got it.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My bone marrow is still thinking about whether it can sustain just enough life to allow gentle therapy for leukemia. The odds of this are about thirty percent. Meanwhile, transfusions keep me alive. My sweet friends, the nurses at Whidbey General, shower me with love. We've been unintended friends for ten years. Thursday, as one of the nurses wheeled me out to the car, she laid her head on my back (germ control) and just held me. This is not a bad life, except for the part where I'm hanging by a thread.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This blog transformed my life and I'm still puzzling over it. If I hadn't had the blog, I'd be quite isolated. I'm a recluse by nature, a private person who avoids groups. In the blog I have shared myself with hundreds of people all over the U.S., many of whom I will never meet, but whom I feel I know. It's an intriguing contradiction -- a private person opening his life and thoughts to so many strangers. A fellow journalist explained once, "Writing is how I reveal myself."<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I think it works because I try to be honest and speak to what makes us all human. I have no space for hateful or angry people, or those who harp every day on social media about their political views. Yes, politics are important, but nowhere near as much as our common humanity. Please build bridges, not walls, to your fellow man. Be kind. Be compassionate. Recognize that other people, like you, might have a piece of the truth.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I've learned much about tolerance from my school classmates going back to high school and even kindergarten. We are tightly bonded and caring of one another, even knowing we disagree about many things. It's okay. Love wins in the end. We share a strong cultural heritage. I've been astounded at how many have written to wish me well. That goes, also, for old, old friends with whom I worked in my corporate career. They have reached out and warmed my heart.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This morning I was just about to publish this post when a eulogy arrived from my stepdaughter, Jennifer -- yes, a eulogy! It is so beautifully written, with photographs that bring back memories, that I wanted to share it. You'll have to click on this link to Google docs. <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/14YbOdbLF3rIaN75rxBA7zyKWJ4stcN_YSJNHpL_Uun8/edit" target="_blank">https://docs.google.com/document/d/14YbOdbLF3rIaN75rxBA7zyKWJ4stcN_YSJNHpL_Uun8/editclick on this link to Google docs. </a><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">A writer has to be reflective to write at all. This has always been my nature. My favorite friends are those who are similarly reflective, like Jennifer. Believe me, I know who you are. You are salve to my soul and I love each one of you who have opened your heart in response.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">So, it's Saturday. I'm still alive and grateful as ever to be having coffee with you one more time. The adventure continues.<br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1280" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoICNqg1jkliRLEkU6DK38dt7exrzI_JiQkk7ASt8N4PL80RnA6dVK1ZpdmDzruS1bxVbNzACGYH9WqN23MNDRRskZrSQCbtzewfdlGr-isdJN2CtaiapFQXGbXzLRe4O7VQURT8u8FVU/w640-h388/10+mysteries+Word+pdf+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My ten mysteries in order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My Mysterious Mornings</span></span></span></span></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Since
2015, I've spent the early-morning hours writing mysteries. These are
magical hours for me, when I immerse myself in a world of a different kind, surrounded
by people and places I love. The books have
developed a following in island bookshops and on Amazon.com. With ten in print now, it's a lot for readers to keep straight. Many tell me they eagerly await what's coming next in the lives of
characters who seem like old friends.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"></span></div><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
For me, these characters provide a platform for exploring conflict and giving voice to positive values. <br />
</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">An
old classmate noticed a pattern in some of my stories. Friends get
together on vacation and end up solving a murder. "Don't ever go on
vacation with these people," he said. "Someone is going to die."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Readers
often ask me about the backstory, how I choose my locations and
stories. It must be clear by now that I love the adventure, intimacy and
self-reliance of rural life. Readers want to know how much of this is
real? Did this really happen to you? I write from personal experience,
but fictionalize it heavily. I won't give away all my secrets, but here
are a few to whet your appetite. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Deception.</b> My thinking was to write about friendship and fidelity, and
how complicated it is when two best friends pursue the same woman. This was my
first novel and it’s fast-paced. Readers like it but I’ve gotten better. It
remains my best-seller. Two former journalism students from the
University of Washington, Brad Haraldsen and Stu Wood, fly to Whidbey Island to
find out what happened to their long-lost classmate Bella Morelli, whose body
was found under Deception Pass Bridge. They meet an island cop, Shane
Lindstrom, who works with them to uncover the motive behind staging Bella’s
death as a suicide. I thought this might be the only mystery I would ever
write, so I put “Final” in the title. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Deception-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/1539163636/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Passage.</b> After I finished <i>Final Deception</i>,
friends asked if I was
going to write a sequel. It hadn’t crossed my mind but there was no
reason not to. I set up an accidental reunion of Brad and Shane aboard
the Alaska Ferry,
where Shane is doing undercover surveillance of the people he believes
killed
Bella and are now involved in a new criminal enterprise. My wife, Sue,
and I have traveled on
the ferry many times. People-watching is all part of the fun because
this is
the great equalizer for travel in Alaska, not a luxury cruise ship -- <i>bleah!</i> In fact this book includes a handful of
Sue’s sketches of some of the personalities on our last trip. The ferry
provided a platform to introduce some important new characters – Brad’s
artist-wife Irene, and Alaskan law enforcement officers Robert Yuka and Marie
Martin, who become close friends of Brad and Shane going forward. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Passage-Mystery-Alaska-Ferry/dp/1548204536/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1500583950&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Passage%3A+Mystery+on+the+Alaska+Ferry">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Escape.</b>
This
book takes the series to central Idaho, one of my
favorite places on Earth, and to Brad and Irene’s ranch overlooking the
little
village of Stanley. I had just returned from a road trip to Idaho with
my dog, Duncan. The highlight was a stop in Stanley and breakfast at
Mountain Village Cafe, which found its way into the book. The group of
friends reunites here for what is intended as a
vacation – Robert, Marie, Brad, Irene, Shane, and Shane’s son, Billy.
They are
joined by Elizabeth Harlowe, sister of an Alaska bush pilot who was
killed by
the villains of <i>Final Passage. </i>She is being stalked by a frightening former
boyfriend, a psychopath, and Shane is being stalked by his obsessive ex-wife,
Judy. It’s a scary story, with
comic relief from the Basque ranch foreman, Bolivar. It’s also about
camaraderie among closely bonded friends who share the same values. As a favor
to one of my own long-time friends, I made sure to include a rattlesnake in the
story. In a sense, that snake is the hero. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1978415095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1509475902&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Escape%3A+Mystery+in+the+Idaho+Sawtooths">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Justice.</b> In this book the story comes back to Whidbey Island, loosely
inspired by actual events dating back more than thirty years to about the time I moved here. Domestic
terrorists are planning an act of violence and end up kidnapping Shane’s
ex-wife, Judy, a party girl who shows some unexpected grit under pressure. She
redeems herself with Shane and his friends, helping them prevent the bombing of
a hotel full of federal agents. Along the way in this story, I share some of
what it’s like to live as I do in the woods on an island, close to nature and
especially coyotes and owls. I thought an owl was a fitting symbol of justice,
so I put one of my images of a Great-horned Owl on the cover. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Justice-Mystery-Haraldsen-Mysteries/dp/198684448X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532949900&sr=1-1&keywords=Final+Justice%2C+Dan+Pedersen">Click for Amazon.</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Pursuit. </b>In my first marriage, I honeymooned at a lake in the
Adirondack Mountains of New York, and always felt it would make a wonderful
setting for a mystery. That was long before I actually wrote any mysteries. In
<i>Final Pursuit,</i> Shane and Elizabeth join their friends Robert and Marie at the
family “lodge” on the shores of fictional Pursuit Lake, where a cabin prowler
is complicating their lives. This is Mennonite and Amish country. The mystery
deepens and grows more serious when murder enters the picture. In this book I
introduce a homeless teen, Katarina Brown, a brilliant addition to my series
who goes on to become a central character in the later books. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091955999">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Impulse.</b> This
was just pure fun to write. It’s a murder mystery that
centers around personal ads and a mail-order bride, with a slew of
memorable characters,
including an eccentric woods-dweller, Zeke Kapinski. It’s my only
mystery that
takes place in the wintertime, and starts with a magical crossing of
Admiralty
Inlet in a snowstorm on the MV Kennewick, running from Port Townsend to
Keystone. Readers love the ferryboat captain, Gail Walker. I may have to
bring her back in a future book. In many ways this is my favorite book
of the whole series, but I say that about each one, and always know that
the next one will be even better. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/169576790X">Click for Amazon.</a><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b> </b></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Descent. </b>The
D.B. Cooper hijacking case has been on my mind for years. He's the guy
who parachuted from a Northwest Airlines jet over Southwest Washington
one Thanksgiving Eve, south of Mount St. Helens. I explored the area a
few years ago on my way home from a trip to California. I also worked
Puget Island into the story, a place that has long beckoned to me, in
the Columbia River. The D.B. Cooper case is the only unsolved hijacking
in American history and I got to wondering, what if he was living next
door? Deputy Katarina Brown takes a crack at solving the case and
finding the money Cooper never spent, right here on Whidbey Island. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Descent-Whidbey-Island-Mystery/dp/B084DD8XJM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Final+Descent%3A+A+Whidbey+Island+Mystery%2C+by+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1581609925&s=books&sr=1-1">Click for Amazon.</a></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>Final Reunion.</b>
People start turning up dead right
before the fiftieth reunion of the Useless Bay High School Class of
1969. I'm fascinated with class reunions and all the baggage we carry
through our lives from our childhood and early school experiences. <i>Final Reunion</i> will stir up all kinds of thoughts and make you think, and laugh. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08GG2RL14?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860">Click for Amazon.</a><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Final Remains. </span></span></b><span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Human
feet have been washing ashore for decades on beaches in Washington and
British Columbia. Why feet, and whose are they? When a woman's foot
shows up in the surf at Ebey's Landing, near Coupeville, Sheriff's
Deputy Katarina Brown gets the call to investigate. The mystery takes
her deep into the lives of five missing women and the even deeper
mysteries that led one of them here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Final-Remains-Mystery-Ebeys-Landing/dp/B08MV2NTYQ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Final+Remains+Dan+Pedersen&qid=1605018837&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Click for Amazon</a><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Final Cover-Up</b>. Human bones are nothing new under the streets of Oak
Harbor's Old Town, but these bones are different. My tenth mystery merges history and plausible future events
in a fast-paced read. It is also a tribute to Duncan, my canine sidekick of ten years. My goal as always is to give readers new insights about Whidbey Island, and its history and natural history. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Click for Amazon.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Final Cover-Up </i>is not yet in bookstores, and I don't have any copies either, but is available in paperback and Kindle on Amazon. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-79316355981656463052021-04-27T01:00:00.165-07:002021-04-28T01:06:22.665-07:00449 -- Between Worlds<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKDNn5uKKci6e6JHlMAyQS1XJBiV-QytJp90YXibddFe4CVgulSgYBRdvepVH6hZ3k0HfOFPa4xrOHTryst83sAuILJ3lyjtqwGH91ogJQRgw4gEM_cTSkDsbqWyqs9kloQ192gFQliI/s838/IMG_1500+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="838" height="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKDNn5uKKci6e6JHlMAyQS1XJBiV-QytJp90YXibddFe4CVgulSgYBRdvepVH6hZ3k0HfOFPa4xrOHTryst83sAuILJ3lyjtqwGH91ogJQRgw4gEM_cTSkDsbqWyqs9kloQ192gFQliI/w640-h556/IMG_1500+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Tulips from my stepdaughter, Jennifer.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> This past week I was between worlds, hospitalized and unable to respond to all the kind people who commented on my last blog of April 17. I was simply too ill with many complications of acute leukemia, something new and unforeseen.</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I spent ten hours in emergency in Coupeville and then was transferred to Everett by ambulance in a surreal sunset ride through Skagit Valley. For eight days and nights I drifted in a black hole of time</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> at Providence Hospital</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">. I had expected to be away from home just a few hours for tests.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The prognosis is very guarded and I'm still getting new information as tests come back. For the last ten years my focus was on Hodgkins Lymphoma, but this changed overnight. I didn't even know leukemia was possible in my case.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The moment of goodbye could be tomorrow or a week or a month -- nobody knows -- so I wanted to share a little more while I can.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Yesterday I published my tenth mystery on Amazon, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><i>Final Cover-Up. </i></a>It was a race against time to complete my body of work, ten mysteries. There hasn't been time do a proper launch yet and I have no copies, but the book is available on Kindle right now and can be ordered as a paperback from Amazon. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">Here's the link.</a><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Among the reasons I wanted to complete this book was to honor the memory of my silent partner of ten years, a wise and intuitive dog named Duncan. You'll find his portrait and story in the foreword and throughout the book.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Final Cover-Up</i> was inspired by the rich Salish history of Oak Harbor, where Native Americans buried their dead for generations, and lived in balance with nature. Much of this history has been lost or forgotten in the city's explosive growth, leading to inevitable tension between forces of development and preservation, the military, patriotism, and environment. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was welcomed home by a houseful of tulips from my cherished stepdaughter Jennifer, who lives in the Skagit Valley. I can't adequately describe my joy at being alive for such a gorgeous springtime, my birth flower of tulips, and all the lush, green foliage and fresh air of our home in the woods. I have never felt closer to my wife, Sue, nor more loved by her. Our lives are truly rich and I think we both feel at peace.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXd3GXn6yExnIvVKI1jFKiRF1HY6gziiR_ojY9on6I307RkY4X2OI2M0By5buLkH3GFZETSwAb0643ecwyHAO0Z2PROHoMJC1QEPF2MY_Fbd33gCjpDZ2MT_COUa6RDCDMmnZ46v2ji8/s2016/IMG_1504.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXd3GXn6yExnIvVKI1jFKiRF1HY6gziiR_ojY9on6I307RkY4X2OI2M0By5buLkH3GFZETSwAb0643ecwyHAO0Z2PROHoMJC1QEPF2MY_Fbd33gCjpDZ2MT_COUa6RDCDMmnZ46v2ji8/w640-h480/IMG_1504.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">From the living room. This beats any hospital room on any day.</span><br /></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For those who wanted to know more of my background, here are some thoughts I put down recently when doing the exercise of writing my own obituary. Whether today's column is the end of this blog or not, you and I will find out together in the coming days.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">*</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Dan
Pedersen</b> of Langley was an early riser and often started his day at 1 a.m. He
said the morning hours were the best and most magical. They were also the
quietest, when he could escape deep into the lives of the fictional characters
about whom he spent the last few years writing. In the night there were no
distractions. With a cup of coffee and sometimes a cozy fire, he would write
until dawn, and then take a nap. He loved nothing so much as a winter rain
drumming on the roof while he worked.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">He was 74. He is survived by his wife, artist Susan Van
Etten, and stepdaughter Jennifer Angelis, of Bow, Washington, sister Frances
and brother Joe. He was preceded in death by his parents, Joe and Mildred
Pedersen of Mount Vernon, and oldest brother, Fred Pedersen, of Tacoma.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6xeBn0iDLnh3kN7d2fugS3-PZ557qBdobVz4vmHnspJ4kOfe901MJnlSJ_ddWFe_PWuVnwcfFZQME1elTPsMTY8vlPFXG6q_eJaeJFaaZJ57T9CvS04qEVWpLmsqRqYeFBLZddArs-8/s1654/Screen+Shot+Kindle+Cover.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1654" data-original-width="1104" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6xeBn0iDLnh3kN7d2fugS3-PZ557qBdobVz4vmHnspJ4kOfe901MJnlSJ_ddWFe_PWuVnwcfFZQME1elTPsMTY8vlPFXG6q_eJaeJFaaZJ57T9CvS04qEVWpLmsqRqYeFBLZddArs-8/w428-h640/Screen+Shot+Kindle+Cover.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The newest mystery, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093KPXC2X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">available to order here.</a></b><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></span><p></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dan
was born in Mount Vernon, in the Skagit Valley, and formed a deep attachment to
rural life as a child. In 1983 he married Suzanne Brelsford and moved from
Seattle’s Wallingford neighborhood to her rural property in Issaquah. In the
process he acquired a teenage stepdaughter, Jennifer. He feared that sharing a
household with a teenager would be more life-changing than marriage itself, but
she surprised him and soon became the unforeseen treasure in his new country adventure.
Her compassion, humor and friendship were a great joy to him.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">One
of his stepfatherly assignments was to teach Jennifer to drive, but he found
her surprisingly comfortable behind the wheel and suspected she’d been doing
some driving he and Suzanne didn’t know about. The low point came one night
when Jennifer showed up at the house soaking wet after climbing out of a car
that was upside down in the nearby creek. A friend was driving that night. </span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It
was Dan and Suzanne’s love of rural places that led to their move in 1986 to a
home in the woods of Whidbey Island, while they were both still employed in the
city. He admitted it was irrational, impulsive and impractical, but Dan was so
stubborn he was still there thirty-five years later. He did everything the hard
way, felling trees and digging stumps by hand.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Island
life did not work for Suzanne and they were divorced in 1991, but she kept
Pedersen as her last name. In 1999 he remarried Sue Van Etten, his second Sue,
who kept Van Etten.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dan’s
interest in writing developed in high school and led to several summers of
internship at <i>The Skagit Valley Herald</i>. He received his bachelor’s and
master’s degrees in journalism from the University of Washington, served in the
Air Force during the Vietnam era, and held a succession of jobs with newspapers
before going on to spend the majority of his career publishing a marketing
magazine, newsletter and many annual reports for Seattle-based Safeco
Corporation. </span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">He
often said the most fun he had on any job was when he worked part-time for the <i>Mountain
Home, Idaho, News, </i>while stationed in Idaho in the Air Force. His Air Force
assignment introduced him to what became his second home, the mountain
communities of the Wood River Valley and Stanley, where he loved to camp and
hike.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">After
the Air Force he returned to Seattle, entered graduate school and picked up a
career in the city with <i>Fishing and
Hunting News</i> and later Safeco Corporation.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">He
tolerated the city but yearned for the intimacy of small-town life. After
retiring in 2002 from commuting and a corporate career in the city, he was hired by the Island County Marine Resources Committee to write educational materials and marine interpretive signage that may be found at public access points throughout the county.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In retirement he couldn’t seem to
stop writing, and started a series of blogs about rural life and nature, the
last of which, <a href="http://www.pedersenwrites.blogspot.com" target="_blank">Dan’s Blog,</a> developed a following of hundreds of readers
nationwide and was still going strong at his death.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">He
self-published several books about family history and rural living before
embarking on his most ambitious project, a series of mysteries. He intended to
write just one mystery and called it <i>Final Deception,</i> but soon followed
with a second “final” mystery and eventually ten of them, all final, and all
following the lives of several characters he said were more real to him than
much of the real world itself. Most of his novels took place on Whidbey Island.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In
2011 he was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma, and, despite chemotherapy that
led to six years of remission, the disease reappeared and robbed him of the
energy to be as active as he had once been on his five acres of forested
property. Sue was his brilliant wife and partner, of whom he was intensely proud. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">He
and Sue enjoyed years of vegetable gardening together, and the constant
entertainment of dogs that brought them love. Their lives were also enriched (at times) by two outlaw cats who gave them no respect, a large wild bird population, and the adventure of windstorms,
power outages and fallen trees. It was a good and full life.<br /></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span><span style="font-family: times;">My first nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b></span><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";"><b>Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island</b><br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span><br />Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-3950804795089378622021-04-17T00:30:00.000-07:002021-04-17T04:21:36.537-07:00448 -- A Simpler Time?<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvrUU76C_j-ZFMX6ZYQR0d-IPhkOPnz_48fX1Z0vGLB0fgMlkwzSI0y7_km86PovGR8vk4gHFLpQ2y9swroVGmsALTx6y0-9Y_fYVRxbnx09UNC22Af96L7D_C5LLM8gYOIqAinJhuyks/s600/173766352_10158901226989519_6157376826752909475_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="600" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvrUU76C_j-ZFMX6ZYQR0d-IPhkOPnz_48fX1Z0vGLB0fgMlkwzSI0y7_km86PovGR8vk4gHFLpQ2y9swroVGmsALTx6y0-9Y_fYVRxbnx09UNC22Af96L7D_C5LLM8gYOIqAinJhuyks/w640-h404/173766352_10158901226989519_6157376826752909475_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Jack Hartt caught the moment of sunrise Wedesday from West Point, looking toward Deception Pass Bridge. <i>Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</i><br /></span></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyg8DSN656Hsqr8ZrS0MLHsdKXdHmKOjyq7jRL8Xo1oNuS8eyqNV_v_NmXIw78SKTaMoftl-wvMOQ49Fz6Z8TjH2LEmA4A09OW9dzw9XNFp-fRqCFzhPk0vh1WtB9yGz6aJ1DmbmW0aA/s593/174327176_10158901226579519_8733536272754653092_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="593" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyg8DSN656Hsqr8ZrS0MLHsdKXdHmKOjyq7jRL8Xo1oNuS8eyqNV_v_NmXIw78SKTaMoftl-wvMOQ49Fz6Z8TjH2LEmA4A09OW9dzw9XNFp-fRqCFzhPk0vh1WtB9yGz6aJ1DmbmW0aA/w640-h426/174327176_10158901226579519_8733536272754653092_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">This was the view Wednesday morning, looking east from Deception Pass Bridge at Mount Baker on the left. </span><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span><br /></i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span>Recently, a friend wrote to say my blog and books about Whidbey Island make him nostalgic for our rural childhood in the 1950s. "Life seemed simpler when we were kids."</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I suppose it was in some ways -- no computers. And we were young, so we didn't have the health issues of older age. We played outdoors with action toys, which included hatchets, BB guns, rocks, and bows and arrows. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dad always kept a sharp hatchet to slaughter a chicken for our Sunday dinner, one of the quaint rituals of that time that I accepted as normal without dwelling on it. This took place out in the yard, and, without getting graphic, let me assure you things got pretty exciting for the chicken and the bystanders.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nowadays I often write about nature, which is calming and timeless, and I've forgotten some of the details of childhood. But if I think hard enough, they come back to me and make me cringe.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We didn't have all this digital connectivity, online bullying and dating, passwords, cat videos and social media. Our lives were more "real" and less virtual than today. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But we were never far from disaster. We were obnoxious and brainless. We raced our bicycles in neighbors' driveways, practicing skids, and came shooting out onto a busy arterial, and must have scared the bejeesus out of some drivers. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's worth pointing out we expected to die at any moment in a nuclear conflagration with Russia. We had regular duck-and-cover drills where we lined up against the wall in the school hallway and waited for the radiation cloud. This is not one of my more charming memories from that simpler time. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">A major entertainment after school involved rock fights with friends. The bigger the rock, the better to get the other guy's attention. Luckily, we weren't very accurate.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But think about it -- clobbering each other with rocks is not a good idea. There was a construction site near our home where trucks dumped loads of rocks and gravel. This made a perfect setting for having forts and fighting wars, up till the point where someone got grievously injured.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">One year I found an old cattle skull and took it to school for show-and-tell. As luck would have it, the skull was full of hibernating bees that woke up in the warm classroom. So we got to evacuate the room while the poor janitor dealt with the bees -- one of many bright ideas that did not go as planned. It was probably not a great day for the janitor, either.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My family lived on sandy river-bottom land and I was obsessed with digging holes. By holes, I mean six or eight feet deep. I would stand in the bottom and throw shovelfuls of dirt over the edge, thinking I would strike water and have a well. It never crossed my mind this is risky behavior. It's a miracle I didn't bury myself alive. I had to cut steps in the soft sand to get out, and sometimes I just barely made it. I suppose someone would have found my body eventually if I had failed.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mom and Dad didn't always know what I'd been doing all day. If they asked, my stock answer was "Nothing." I later realized that any question to which "nothing" was the answer merited some follow-up questions.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">A latchkey friend and I often got together after school, and in our boredom we climbed trees and built treehouses that probably weren't safe for one of us, let alone two. If one of us had fallen and broken a leg, I suppose eventually we would have figured out how to get medical help. No one was home at the house.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">One afternoon, at his house, we had the bright idea of lighting a tube of glue on fire and squeezing it to make a little flame-thrower. When the tube burst, it sent balls of fire all over his room. We could have burned down the house, but thanks to some quick trips to the kitchen faucet, we limited the damage to burn holes in the bedding and carpet. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then there was the time I shot him with a BB gun from a distance. It seemed like a good idea to my undeveloped brain. Apparently, the BB really stung and made him very mad. I could have put out an eye. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For the 4th of July, we went to a favorite nearby beach where everyone showed off their fireworks. We liked to modify our explosives, so we stuffed rocks into a pipe and ignited a large firecracker at the other end. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this is a pipe bomb. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mom always said I was her "easiest" child, the one who gave her the least trouble and worries. This is not a high endorsement of my siblings. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Call it a simpler time if you will, but when I dig deep into my memory, the details give me a chill. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a
short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";"><b>Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island</b><br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span> <br /></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-73322456160739167092021-04-10T00:30:00.043-07:002021-04-10T02:43:06.255-07:00447 -- The New Neighbors<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6S0RtrTVHgChvRxGbEq3ePJXCHHPrsYIibILLxwUWPoR-QXfn0hw-x6jVqKy4-syFKvYkSPSYDXx9Ju7DoYn2wUsT5JfPxL6VE3UAxLYix212iOWqxvDvjsMKEkO5QCTrLKU-PPotcPc/s2048/170595702_4197191023645372_6184448940366613360_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6S0RtrTVHgChvRxGbEq3ePJXCHHPrsYIibILLxwUWPoR-QXfn0hw-x6jVqKy4-syFKvYkSPSYDXx9Ju7DoYn2wUsT5JfPxL6VE3UAxLYix212iOWqxvDvjsMKEkO5QCTrLKU-PPotcPc/w640-h426/170595702_4197191023645372_6184448940366613360_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Adult Great-horned Owl and three fledlings in the nest. <i>Copyright 2021 Cara Hefflinger</i></b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As photographers go, Cara Hefflinger is something of an owl specialist, and I'm an owl lover, so I stopped in my tracks when I saw these recent images she photographed of a Great-horned Owl and her three newborns.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Geri Nelson found the nest in March while walking her dogs, and alerted Cara. "</span><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">I
discovered this owl in her nest about a week ago," Geri said. At that time she could only see one owlet. </span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTR11t8U7vWLNwmJRA2yiZSo1KFLhPluxWzlMyRAcu33u2W53jCrDTJK6QnVWGSl498d_YEMqWugCsOf4KY5bxHtoYAVWzaT_qYU_Ewr2n0NgPW7I0dYCKEtA4il5e9QtBJ1HR4SAeTg/s2048/169871031_4197191086978699_1138990924269465602_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTR11t8U7vWLNwmJRA2yiZSo1KFLhPluxWzlMyRAcu33u2W53jCrDTJK6QnVWGSl498d_YEMqWugCsOf4KY5bxHtoYAVWzaT_qYU_Ewr2n0NgPW7I0dYCKEtA4il5e9QtBJ1HR4SAeTg/w640-h426/169871031_4197191086978699_1138990924269465602_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Copyright 2021 Cara Hefflinger</i></span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">It's worth pointing out that Great-horned Owls don't build nests but usually take over the abandoned nest of some other predator, typically a Red-tailed Hawk.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">"Today (Tuesday) is the first
time she was actually sitting up getting some sunshine," Geri said. "I try to walk by
there every couple of days. I know she has at least one baby." </span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUix9vFhpjn7HslwniBNijqMcCWzbvqMlsnnyVVCONa-0XBLnaZs1pGS1c4l-q05po6W4Qwa9udfhntqzjzU3_bDK6T8aXwqRF9K_xgh9UHezvioL74z7cRNsdBwjYbnWqAP4VtuB8GQ/s2048/169924113_4197191176978690_8040071204663269312_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUix9vFhpjn7HslwniBNijqMcCWzbvqMlsnnyVVCONa-0XBLnaZs1pGS1c4l-q05po6W4Qwa9udfhntqzjzU3_bDK6T8aXwqRF9K_xgh9UHezvioL74z7cRNsdBwjYbnWqAP4VtuB8GQ/w640-h426/169924113_4197191176978690_8040071204663269312_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Copyright 2021 Cara Hefflinger</b></span></span></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">On Sunday the adult owl was sitting on the limb chasing</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"> chasing crows away, and Geri could see three fledglings. Young owls need some time to learn to get along in the world, and hunt for their meals. April is when I start watching for them. A clue there are babies around is if I hear blood-curdling screams in the night. Young Great-horned Owls don't "hoot." They scream bloody murder.</span><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">The cycle of life for Great-horned Owls starts in the dead of winter. I well remember watching two adults courting one Christmas morning in the treetops at the far end of our yard. The eggs then must be kept warm through the coldest months of the year, till the young emerge in early spring. Then the fun begins as the young ones learn about the world. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">I've watched them perch on low limbs and structures in our yard, studying the ground and screaming for food. The adult is always nearby, usually perched higher, keeping a watchful eye on everything. They may grow into fearsome hunters of the night, but in their first few months of life they are as cute as it gets.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">My thanks to Cara Hefflinger for permission to share her photographs.</span></span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50knrcOvjUvC07Tw6x3qMMyA2wID5S-eHhOkk1VtyTabfq9q7RFEP_6emzQHo70TYiyYW0NUEhhGKO8uqWliCiBDa2-i2jSYrOBJDPcd-ka5FQb2g8h7ZYwXbspL1ZNB7XwYOjf8CvuQ/s593/170687353_4197190903645384_2742475123597158782_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="593" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50knrcOvjUvC07Tw6x3qMMyA2wID5S-eHhOkk1VtyTabfq9q7RFEP_6emzQHo70TYiyYW0NUEhhGKO8uqWliCiBDa2-i2jSYrOBJDPcd-ka5FQb2g8h7ZYwXbspL1ZNB7XwYOjf8CvuQ/w640-h426/170687353_4197190903645384_2742475123597158782_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Copyright 2021 Cara Hefflinger</span></span></i></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"></span><b>'You're Important to Us' -- Yeah</b><br /></span></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Recently, one of our banks announced they were "excited" to get bought by a larger bank. This means all kinds of exciting changes for employees and customers, no doubt to serve us better. Oh boy! I needed some excitement in my quiet life, and this is it.</span><br /></span></span></h1><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Among the exciting changes, they will no longer honor checks with the old bank's name, so customers must hustle excitedly to replace their old checks with new ones so they can continue to pay bills. Oddly, the letter didn't offer a suggestion on how to do this quickly and painlessly. A trip to the dreaded lobby? I've been avoiding indoor spaces for a year. Getting the customer new checks seems like job one, but I guess the bank is busy with something else.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">They suggest we make a copy of our transaction record in case something gets screwed up.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Oh, and we "may notice" an increase in fees. To explain the fee structure, they sent a package with multiple flyers and about 30 pages of boilerplate -- something for the customer to read in his free time.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The big new bank is making the acquisition the customer's problem. How different it would be if they sent a letter announcing there was nothing the customer need do -- they'd send new checks automatically, and honor the existing terms.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I never wanted an exciting bank with a new and improved fee structure, just a competent one. Banking is not a love relationship. Already, I just want to get away from this clumsy new organization.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It feels like some things have changed in the corporate world in the past year. Companies are finding new ways to invade the customer's privacy. I'm getting much more spam email. Any company from whom I make an online purchase immediately starts sending <i>daily</i> marketing emails. I hit "unsubscribe" and hope I'm part of a backlash against overcommunication. If I research any product online, I'm bombarded with display ads for it on every website I visit for weeks afterwards.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We already screen all our telephone calls with caller ID. Companies know we won't answer the phone for an unknown number, so they try to trick us with systems that display a bogus number on caller ID. They make deceit a standard business practice. Here again, our personal space is violated for marketing purposes. Sadly, it's how business is done now.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It baffles me that companies think customers want, or will tolerate, all this marketing. For me, email is personal, just like the telephone. It's a service I use to communicate mainly with friends, not to be hounded by businesses. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Just as with the junk email at the post office, I start my day online by deleting all the commercial emails that arrived overnight. I don't read them, just as I don't open the junk mail that comes at the post office. I unsubscribe from as many websites as possible, but it's never enough.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Recently, one company offered me a discount in honor of my birthday. I've never given them my birthday and, in fact, make it a point not to publicize my birthday on social media. This truly felt like an invasion.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">You may wonder if there's a moral to this story and I wish there were. I don't want <i>any</i> company to wish me a happy birthday. I just want to watch owls. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">I
publish this blog most Saturdays from my home on Whidbey Island with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><h1 style="text-align: left;"></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";"><b>Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island</b><br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-7854501467313406612021-04-03T02:01:00.002-07:002021-04-03T08:49:54.744-07:00446 -- Who Doesn't Love a Storm?<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyV2edDfSr8P2YIMvJlwV23RFnCjKiva_kT5rEK8TDtmwgKv2WXsgHHSB_gRRHmNtowpkRNtJvhALPshUUL7BEkkupDi5UgulIprYmVY7iw3tLsva_CgkTXQtWGYNBnRfVZhdLcmuQG8E/s1368/167023089_10158864322034519_2697555579784526165_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1368" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyV2edDfSr8P2YIMvJlwV23RFnCjKiva_kT5rEK8TDtmwgKv2WXsgHHSB_gRRHmNtowpkRNtJvhALPshUUL7BEkkupDi5UgulIprYmVY7iw3tLsva_CgkTXQtWGYNBnRfVZhdLcmuQG8E/w640-h426/167023089_10158864322034519_2697555579784526165_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">West Beach, <i>copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</i></span></span></b><i><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvS2C0fjItkY6igKshJ21oveVvgZ0g5waKhhxQuKXnhswvc_2XZSVZXzg2Z5GHSdhNup4-6szJ6xTpksibR2MQz4hTM6PkeLYNNi7frlK_U3kB5FhAT4j5miXRIGOcGN3L-8oOx7IJqA/s1308/166770020_10158864321544519_8922171612523713890_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1308" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvS2C0fjItkY6igKshJ21oveVvgZ0g5waKhhxQuKXnhswvc_2XZSVZXzg2Z5GHSdhNup4-6szJ6xTpksibR2MQz4hTM6PkeLYNNi7frlK_U3kB5FhAT4j5miXRIGOcGN3L-8oOx7IJqA/w640-h376/166770020_10158864321544519_8922171612523713890_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Jack Hartt</span></i></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's April. We must be getting toward the end of the wild weather, but last Sunday we took a step backwards. Jack Hartt braved a sharp windstorm to photograph the surf as it hammered West Beach, the most exposed shoreline on Whidbey Island.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">For more about Jack's adventure, and also the story of a more peaceful hike </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">on the Dunes Trail </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">he took the next day </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">with the Fidalgo Hikers</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">, see this week's <a href="https://hikingclosetohome.weebly.com/hike-of-the-week#/" target="_blank">"Hike of the Week"</a> on the Hiking Close to Home website. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I took a short walk of my own Sunday morning in Langley, and that wind was bitter cold. I'll bet Jack didn't stand on the beach any longer than necessary. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Look at the size of those rollers -- not something we see often on Puget Sound.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-EhT0sWBdPchZI6TB1wNta_TRhXqZpRpEqjWT4XNtfK0YQtbdiogWfWzZDoJxU4lAawciqovGuk1g2sg91OYvNBhnF4Ywinwbmk_zy-j1T3Bq1hejFSJ8FUf5TMoN25hhq0DGmY5anY0/s2016/IMG_1531.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-EhT0sWBdPchZI6TB1wNta_TRhXqZpRpEqjWT4XNtfK0YQtbdiogWfWzZDoJxU4lAawciqovGuk1g2sg91OYvNBhnF4Ywinwbmk_zy-j1T3Bq1hejFSJ8FUf5TMoN25hhq0DGmY5anY0/w640-h480/IMG_1531.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Saratoga Passage from north Camano Island. <i>Joe Pedersen photo</i></span></b></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My brother, Joe, was watching the same storm from his living room on the north end of Camano Island. He said this was one of the sharpest winds he's experienced at his west-facing property, and photographed the scene on Saratoga Passage, the normally sheltered channel between the two islands.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Along with the wind, we had a furious but short-lived blizzard of hail and ice. "We haven't seen the hail and sleet change directions so many times in such a short period," remarked one of my neighbors. I watched the temperature drop four degrees during the hailstorm. Then, overnight, it dropped further to 33 degrees.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As far as I know, no one in my neigborhood sustained any damage...but it wouldn't have taken much. Some others on the island were not so lucky. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I heard of one household where<i> three</i> vehicles were totaled by one average-sized tree. The cars were all parked outdoors, side-by-side. The tree made a perfect hit across the hoods of all three.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In an excess of paranoia, when we're expecting wind, I try to make sure our cars are dispersed to more than one location for just this reason.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She Died Reluctantly...<br /></span></span></h1><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Mary Carpenter died <i>reluctantly</i> ..." began the obituary. It was that fourth word! I was sitting up and paying attention. The deceased wrote her own obituary, as I suggested in last week's post. My school classmate, Judith Widen, sent it to me after reading what I said about writing your own last words. This particular obituary was for a professional colleague and friend of hers.<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Response to the blog surprised me. I thought readers might say it was a heavy topic for a Saturday-morning piece, but to my surprise, many welcomed it and had lots to say. If you missed their comments, go back and scroll to the very bottom of the column: <a href="https://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/2021/03/445-glorious-springtime.html?showComment=1457186745792" target="_blank">Last Week's Blog -- Click Here.</a> I thought readers offered some good additional insights and suggestions. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mary's words illustrate exactly what I was trying to say about writing your own goodbye in a style that conveys your unique personality, passions and sense of humor.<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"We always called her Mac," Judy said. "Her voice, through her obituary, was like
having a last personal conversation with her. Makes me smile."</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span> <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mac wrote, "Her education included a B.A. from St. Mary's College, which professed to make her 'a whole woman.' Regrettably, it didn't take." <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Despite her (adamant) predictions that she would never teach, never stay in the same job more than five years, and never marry, she did all three. So much for her predictive abilities... Her only long-term regret was that her genes didn't allow for her to be remembered as 'tall and willowy.'"</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">That cracked me up. Remind me to put something in my obituary about my dashing good looks. <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mary's entire obituary was written with a light touch and I read it feeling as if she was an old friend. I think she would have been a fun person to know.<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Judy also shared a piecd written twenty years ago by Jon Hahn, a columnist for the <i>Seattle Post-Intelligencer, </i>who loved obituaries as I do. He was talking about the glimpses we get of fascinating lives in those brief summaries. I thought his concluding words expressed perfectly what we feel after reading a well-written obituary.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%;">"It's
as though someone has flashed the pages of an interesting book before us, and
then whisked it away."</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%;">Leave them wanting more. </span>
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{page:Section1;}</style> <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">I
publish this blog on Saturdays -- some, probably most, but not all -- from my home on Whidbey Island
with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";">Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span></div>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-11104502337189392742021-03-27T00:30:00.211-07:002021-03-27T01:02:29.937-07:00445 -- Glorious Springtime<p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKrRLqfVGDqsRzRrV1u0cceFEEb8XeqIKN0o57c3ATCU4kFCbfWnMEjFypY_Z1qK6XwBBGUEp1nQXtAOBo1NcSlAsA_bq1sjJoecqCuxgeoBUkvtmB2P-Yu6nkjG8O-q8BxfTiQVJDr8/s2048/DSC_0918.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKrRLqfVGDqsRzRrV1u0cceFEEb8XeqIKN0o57c3ATCU4kFCbfWnMEjFypY_Z1qK6XwBBGUEp1nQXtAOBo1NcSlAsA_bq1sjJoecqCuxgeoBUkvtmB2P-Yu6nkjG8O-q8BxfTiQVJDr8/w640-h426/DSC_0918.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Skagit Valley daffodfils, </span><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">copyright 2021 Ken Pickle</span><br /></i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br />Of all the signs of spring in Puget Sound, there's nothing like the explosion of daffodil blossoms in the Skagit Valley. Stunning as they are, they'll be followed shortly by another spectacular show -- whole fields of color when the tulips come along behind them. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The Skagit Valley Tulip Festival points out that more tulip and daffodil bulbs are grown in the Skagit Valley than in any other <i>country</i> in the world. The festival runs throughout April.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Springtime is not shy in erasing the memories of a bleak winter. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Edmonds photographer Ken Pickle got these images Wednesday, and they were so striking I had to share them. The birds are Snow Geese, which overwinter in the Skagit River Delta until about May and then migrate north to the Arctic Tundra. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2umZXPbHJxQYHAf4eYHMYTlG6s5wS0uzB6pzW4K1595Ej3TyHPaFfhMDIGv_qot5YzG7BrpGN39ux5eN8nvTGXIyvWgamWhEGC7wivV2SZmcjh6b3ENLjlhDMPD5tSSp78zTW4-Wd6pw/s2048/DSC_0881.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="2048" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2umZXPbHJxQYHAf4eYHMYTlG6s5wS0uzB6pzW4K1595Ej3TyHPaFfhMDIGv_qot5YzG7BrpGN39ux5eN8nvTGXIyvWgamWhEGC7wivV2SZmcjh6b3ENLjlhDMPD5tSSp78zTW4-Wd6pw/w640-h398/DSC_0881.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Skagit Valley Snow Geese, <i>copyright 2021 Ken Pickle</i><br /></span></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftATzk1MXEKJMRJ4PzTlSA6bZ13ycjKUk3Azk4sYRfqYpeOKFUomHqRCzGkc4yvFLUb0_YxijUAdtEjUsdbhHr0jNgtBcnyRiQjaxQ_OfEykEvRw14ertMruuOFEY4hF8rUd9h5COsLE/s2048/DSC_0925.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftATzk1MXEKJMRJ4PzTlSA6bZ13ycjKUk3Azk4sYRfqYpeOKFUomHqRCzGkc4yvFLUb0_YxijUAdtEjUsdbhHr0jNgtBcnyRiQjaxQ_OfEykEvRw14ertMruuOFEY4hF8rUd9h5COsLE/w640-h426/DSC_0925.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Copyright 2021 Ken Pickle<br /></i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Last Words</span></span><br /></h1><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"All we do is go to funerals," Mom said.</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I remember those words well, spoken many years ago when my parents were getting up in years. Mom had another favorite line, too: "We won't live forever." She was right, and one day she was gone. It seemed like we had no time to prepare, but she had been preparing for years.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">She especially loved daffodils and every spring we had a yard full of them. Looking at Ken Pickle's photography this week, memories of Mom came flooding back.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As a </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">kid, you don't want to hear your parents bring up death</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">. Mine had been fortunate to have a long life together, but were raising the topic of death more and more on my visits home. You could call Mom's remarks morose, or dark humor, but you could also call them healthy realism. Part of aging is accepting that you won't live forever, and doing some thinking.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As I grow older, I find myself reading the obituaries more and more -- not to be morose, but to learn about my contemporaries. I live in a small community and every life makes a difference. That's exaggerating, because some lives probably don't, but many do.</span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk4mKtDY0qdq_We0ty1oBS1CNgPIo7aV8Sodjb7YvceSBtEn7VsY-VBp-lAyIakMeZEW0H6qm_0-GIMkCMsI9f_tv4pyq0wBMd2KjJQN_TaAPx1wQuYF7Rj_gXinYMX8e4fVz1bO6E8w/s1240/IMG_4424.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="1240" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk4mKtDY0qdq_We0ty1oBS1CNgPIo7aV8Sodjb7YvceSBtEn7VsY-VBp-lAyIakMeZEW0H6qm_0-GIMkCMsI9f_tv4pyq0wBMd2KjJQN_TaAPx1wQuYF7Rj_gXinYMX8e4fVz1bO6E8w/w640-h378/IMG_4424.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Pedersen photo</b><br /></i></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I'm often amazed at the life stories of people I thought I knew. Surely it's ironic that we don't really know someone until they are gone and we read those well-crafted words that sum up their life in a few paragraphs.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Recently, a school classmate died. I never knew him, but was moved by how beautifully written his obituary was. It expressed what was important to him, and the satisfaction he got from his work. I think a good obituary should be more than facts. It should convey a sense of the person and the difference they made in the world.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">On graduation day a lifetime ago, I remember wondering what would become of us all. Whose life would make a difference? Who would find fulfillment and happiness, and who would just stumble through life? What would I do with my own life? Some kids were bright and motivated. Others seemed to be preparing for a life of mediocrity.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Over the years, class reunions provided some clues to how things were working out. Early on, I think the focus was on careers and success. Later, for many, the definition of a life-well-lived shifted to more philosophical considerations. There were well over 300 of us, too many stories to follow. Now that the stories are ending, I read the obituaries, and some of the outcomes really surprise me.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Recently, I've wondered how I would characterize my own life, if it was my job to write the obituary. I'm not the first person to have these thoughts. I read that Abraham Lincoln worried about this. He wanted his life to matter, so he'd be remembered.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As an exercise, I sat down and drafted what I would want the obituary writer to say about me, what they should know was important. It was a good process and I recommend it to others. I'm filing my obituary with other important papers so my survivors can find it and perhaps save some work at a busy time.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">If you haven't done it, give it some thought on a rainy day. What was most important to you? How would you like to he remembered? In what way did your life make a difference?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Do we fondly remember those who lived lives of self-indulgence -- buying toys, drinking wine, playing and traveling? <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was discussing this with a friend the other day and she said, "I think it's hard to make a difference." My response was, "If all you do is spread some kindness and generosity, that's something -- a positive contribution." We can't all be Abraham Lincoln, but in big ways and small, we can change the world.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My parents were both teachers, so they left their impact on the lives of many students. I can think of a couple of friends whose obituaries I would love to write. One is a man who has devoted his life to nature education, even while weighed down by almost unbearable health burdens. Far from "playing," his life is a struggle to survive, and he chose a life of service. Another is a woman who quietly gives meaning to her values through acts of great generosity.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the end, it's what we do to help and encourage others that sets apart the lives that inspire and uplift us. Those are the lives that are worth the words to write about. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">I
publish this blog on Saturdays -- some, probably most, but not all -- from my home on Whidbey Island
with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";">Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-4048927780990670402021-03-20T00:30:00.043-07:002021-03-20T01:02:37.086-07:00444 -- Should We Even Bother?<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX2gpR_dIR4saK38I0a8bqW_M9HbnLdnRx0pLSg9UuxsLuob-BOG8ApvlR2y1fhun1Q4d0CrU6PzfGbIkxmbtgbFLWK0cGHF8ZT3OBmgweqUlXOspKd_brj9LgDWjLKMS7XD3PVTDxjo/s640/IMG_1417.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX2gpR_dIR4saK38I0a8bqW_M9HbnLdnRx0pLSg9UuxsLuob-BOG8ApvlR2y1fhun1Q4d0CrU6PzfGbIkxmbtgbFLWK0cGHF8ZT3OBmgweqUlXOspKd_brj9LgDWjLKMS7XD3PVTDxjo/w640-h426/IMG_1417.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Pedersen photos</b><br /></span></span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Should we even bother with a vegetable garden this year?" Sue asked, looking out at the wreckage of last summer's garden on a cold, bleak, overcast day. Fast-growing weeds already were encroaching on the last few patches of open soil. The work looked overwhelming and we were both trying to think of some way to make our lives easier.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I don't know," I replied. "There's only one thing I want and it's green beans." Even with limited energy, I thought I could probably clear enough space from the weeds to put up some beanpoles by May, when I would have to plant some starts. I usually start my beans in pots so they can grow several inches and be less attractive to birds that might otherwise rip the plants out of the ground to get the bean seeds.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I could probably do the bean project alone -- my own little activity a few minutes a day. I can't remember a summer when we haven't had home-grown green beans, and nothing you can buy at the grocery store even comes close.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Beans are a warm-weather crop. The soil isn't warm enough yet to even think about them. Carrots and peas, on the other hand, need attention right now. Peas often fail and need to be replanted. Some other crops, such as carrots, ideally can be planted at intervals to keep them coming for months. We harvest some of the best carrots of all in the wintertime, after they've been exposed to freezing weather. But in the spring and summer, each new planting is just more work.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"If you were going to grow just <i>one </i>vegetable, what would it be?" I asked Sue, thinking she might be ready to scale back, too.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Lettuce," she said (another early crop). </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then she added, "And carrots and peas, and kale for sure, some broccoli and cucumbers, chard, onions, probably some potatoes, squash, pumpkins, tomatoes, beets . . ."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTeyz60M_sbal3QpAco1A3fmxKihcilZZu89cwKI410Dupw7xtiqWD1q9B_DhXKSjUuxOdEZwPJfy5MeH5xjrz2ey6POoWiqV5g_t3qcLNErU49QaceQM35DCwzq56L3bDVBBapErJps/s640/IMG_1433.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="426" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTeyz60M_sbal3QpAco1A3fmxKihcilZZu89cwKI410Dupw7xtiqWD1q9B_DhXKSjUuxOdEZwPJfy5MeH5xjrz2ey6POoWiqV5g_t3qcLNErU49QaceQM35DCwzq56L3bDVBBapErJps/w426-h640/IMG_1433.jpg" width="426" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The very next day, in shirtsleeve weather under a sunny sky, we started work. I suspect we're going to till the whole darn thing, once again.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's going to be a big job, and I'll be the first to say I have very limited energy and stamina, but I'm dreaming now of those vegetables. And the fresh air and sunshine on a perfect March day were food for the soul.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">That's how it goes with gardens -- food for the body and soul. So stand by, because I plan to be eating green beans this summer and I'll probably have more to say about a few other crops, too, in the months to come.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_kZZ-tI9uUtyVbIL7B4Ghg-vYDQlCdaRArMgyYJb2eq9vph8C0wX__L866b0sa42kaMe7jV0aXx3y5-9XyXrtsQJaV5iMLrHLrvYIW-KTEPo6esU-08k5e5tb9rQ-m8-qtC0nqVK9rA/s1280/IMG_0832.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1280" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_kZZ-tI9uUtyVbIL7B4Ghg-vYDQlCdaRArMgyYJb2eq9vph8C0wX__L866b0sa42kaMe7jV0aXx3y5-9XyXrtsQJaV5iMLrHLrvYIW-KTEPo6esU-08k5e5tb9rQ-m8-qtC0nqVK9rA/w640-h500/IMG_0832.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Bed Is Watching</span></span><br /></span></span></h1><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Of all the modern electronic conveniences that complicate our lives, our bed is the one that keeps me awake.<br /></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It is designed not so much for sleeping as for data collection, bless its soul. Like all digital devices, it provides addictive feedback. Electronic sensors monitor each side of the bed all night. While we sleep, or try to, it studies what's happening and uploads a report to our cell phones, complete with charts and graphs. I check my score first thing every morning. This week I got an 86, the highest score I've seen in months. I immediately felt refreshed and alert. My highest score of all time was 96. I've never seen 100 and have no idea what it would take to achieve that.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The bed keeps track of:</span></span></p><ul><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">How long it takes each of us to fall asleep</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Hours and minutes of restful sleep</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Hours and minutes of restlessness <br /></span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Number and length of "bed exits" (trips to bathroom)</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Heart rate</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Breath rate</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">HRV</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Circadian rhythm</span></span></li></ul><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">If you're wondering about HRV, it's the variation in time between beats of the heart. I was going to try to explain it here, and why it matters, but it's a bit technical. Google it. If you need something to worry about instead of sleeping, think about your HRV.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">But that's not my only problem. Knowing that the bed is watching my "exits" all night, I sometimes lie there, tossing and turning, a little longer before going to the bathroom. A bed exit lowers my score. But then restlessess lowers it, too, so you have to weigh the pros and cons of one versus the other.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Thankfully, there is still one place where no data gets collected -- the vegetable garden. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">I
publish this blog on Saturdays -- some, probably most, but not all -- from my home on Whidbey Island
with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";">Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span><br />Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-62340488448662856292021-03-13T00:30:00.076-08:002021-03-13T01:09:46.051-08:00443 -- Messing With Sunrise<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhin0bv19U7vKHXWEQGGMhOjd1-NxOj7iZctnZx-3GqBTvVhdQEWC8KvlmSeYWLHDknCKmyLrENpL-xRl2m7Oj9ja6iV8pi_GhrjD-qCq9AMUfvGGw_z6yEoJcYSqGxtgKi_GJ87LNq7qQ/s2016/IMG_1467.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhin0bv19U7vKHXWEQGGMhOjd1-NxOj7iZctnZx-3GqBTvVhdQEWC8KvlmSeYWLHDknCKmyLrENpL-xRl2m7Oj9ja6iV8pi_GhrjD-qCq9AMUfvGGw_z6yEoJcYSqGxtgKi_GJ87LNq7qQ/w640-h480/IMG_1467.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">The view toward Everett from Langley. <i>Pedersen photo</i><br /></span></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Tomorrow we reset our clocks to daylight time, which will push the dawn later and make our useful evenings longer. Nothing will change for the birds, which will start chirping when things look right to them. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I've been watching a British TV series about narrowboating, living aboard boats and exploring the 2,000 miles of navigable industrial canals of England. This lifestyle lends itself to spending nights in the middle of nowhere, moored to the shore in a patch of trees or next to some farmer's field. A common complaint of city people who adopt this lifestyle is how noisy they find the countryside, where the birds start chirping around 4 a.m., and roosters and cattle often have something to say, as well.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">We are only halfway to the summer solstice, but recently, sunrise has been coming around 6:30 a.m, and not many people in my town have been seeing it except garbage collectors, bus drivers and dog walkers. I'm in the latter category, but without a dog these days, so when I walk, it's with a friend who has a dog.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The photograph at the top of this column was the scene Tuesday morning a little after the sun climbed up over the Cascade Mountains. Peak color probably was a few minutes earlier. The pyramidal mountain just left of center on the horizon is Mount Pilchuck, 37 miles northeast of Seattle. It's only 5,341 feet high, relatively small compared to other Cascade peaks, but it looms large because it is closer than any of our volcanoes such as Baker, Rainier and Glacier Peak, which range from 10,000 - 14,000+ feet.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I came close to taking this week off from the blog, but was racked with guilt about offering nothing after a flurry of new sign-ups in the last few days. I occasionally write a "good" blog, which raises expectations and just creates problems for me. I was consumed all week working on my next "Final" mystery. This is the tenth such final book, and this time I really mean it. I was feeling pulled hard in that direction. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">So in the spirit of coming up with <i>something, </i>I thought I'd follow up on some earlier posts.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wwwiam_tgCKzO4hKxJ0wND8jf2wAtcFCeVJgG_IWDrYkgqM_yzr10PdSt9Jy2W3fkWAcYwzsRa5Rr4w-qtO9fh8Tm33zUQIUlIjlpbU0btbQCv3PqJdatqre67HKStrR4bywTiIJHok/s1163/IMG_1478+%25281%2529.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1163" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wwwiam_tgCKzO4hKxJ0wND8jf2wAtcFCeVJgG_IWDrYkgqM_yzr10PdSt9Jy2W3fkWAcYwzsRa5Rr4w-qtO9fh8Tm33zUQIUlIjlpbU0btbQCv3PqJdatqre67HKStrR4bywTiIJHok/w640-h528/IMG_1478+%25281%2529.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Signs of spring. </span><i><span style="font-family: times;">Pedersen phot</span>o</i></b></span><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;">Point Roberts </span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>A few weeks ago I wrote about Point Roberts and my fascination with this peninsula of America that juts down from Canada. The peninsula is currently landlocked by Canadian travel restrictions in response to the covid pandemic. CBS News got interested in the Point Roberts story and devoted a segment of CBS Sunday Morning to it. So if you'd like to know more about this little outpost of US soil, <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/point-roberts-washington-at-us-canada-border-endures-covid-lockdown/" target="_blank"><b>click on this link</b> </a>to watch what they said about it.</span></span></span></span></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;">Bushtits</span></span></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I'm glad nobody told me about Bushtits in high school," was one reader's response to last week's piece about Bushtits. I admit it's hard to say that name with a straight face. Bill Poss has been watching the nest and hasn't seen any activity. My guess is that it is left over from a previous season and won't be re-used, but I wouldn't be surprised if offspring of last year's birds make a new sock nest somewhere nearby this year. They should be working on it right now.</span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Arrest Warrant</span></span> </span></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've been waiting all week for the police, ever since I received an "urgent" message on my cell phone that I needed to resolve some mysterious "case file" before they moved ahead with my arrest. If they don't hear back from me on the number from which they called, it will be considered "an intentional fraud" (their words). I don't answer calls from unknown numbers, and feel sad for those who get such calls and don't recognize their scam nature. The misuse of communication technology is rampant. We know someone who turned over all her bank account information to a telephone scammer, and even installed a tracking device on her own computer at the scammer's suggestion.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">I
publish this blog on Saturdays -- some, probably most, but not all -- from my home on Whidbey Island
with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";">Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span> </span></span></span></span><br /></h1>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-74102816022427052552021-03-06T01:00:00.027-08:002021-03-06T01:43:25.552-08:00442 -- Upside Down<p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgods121qSD3cqAykmcDZLMH5ZHOv59560KcthiCl-xnZMhHczscp7-HLelAL3eOVLurWVU7nNOJk9P76VpDkQmfxUDL6rNt-ptocN8TF_ykTEzF5CYd8gYBXtUMS-lE6BzLtmzaCjuNpc/s530/Screen%252BShot%252B2021-02-28%252Bat%252B11.52.52%252BAM-1.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="301" data-original-width="530" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgods121qSD3cqAykmcDZLMH5ZHOv59560KcthiCl-xnZMhHczscp7-HLelAL3eOVLurWVU7nNOJk9P76VpDkQmfxUDL6rNt-ptocN8TF_ykTEzF5CYd8gYBXtUMS-lE6BzLtmzaCjuNpc/w640-h364/Screen%252BShot%252B2021-02-28%252Bat%252B11.52.52%252BAM-1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Skunk Bay weathercam photo, as published on the Cliff Mass Weather Blog.</b></i><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This is extraordinary. It is upside-down lightning near my home last Friday, February 27, about 8 pm. If this sounds crazy, just know that it is a thing.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The lightning occurred during one of the most violent hailstorms I've experienced, though we don't get the truly damaging hail here like some other parts of the country, that destroys roofs and leaves dents in automobiles. We had rolling thunder and intense downdrafts that drove hail at the house like bullets.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The photograph was taken by the <a href="https://www.skunkbayweather.com/" target="_blank">Skunk Bay Weather Cam</a> at Hansville, across Admiralty Inlet on the Kitsap Peninsula, looking back toward Whidbey Island. Meterologist Cliff Mass published it on his popular <a href="https://cliffmass.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Cliff Mass Weather Blog, </a>which I read faithfully. If you don't already read his blog but are interested in weather, I highly encourage bookmarking his site.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="337" data-original-width="486" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYE2aGcxU04rpfYPnvcHCGoAgAjDWlMN40FoHVyNmMJOcOHv80BeXiEyDxDFTP4rNADazLB6gSOYW8tz_gsJXAev1q-rR1juo28pQnCCdHGArEjU-gSI3GNhmnyP2F-9dRJu6px6J0KE/w640-h444/Screen%252BShot%252B2021-02-28%252Bat%252B1.10.30%252BPM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Site of lighting strike as determined by Cliff Mass and Greg Johnson.</span><br /></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Here's the thing, Mass says. Almost all lighting is top down, starting at a single point in the clouds and branching into forks that hit the ground or come close to it at multiple points. This lightning originated on the ground and spread upward.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">When this happens, Mass says, it almost always starts atop a high tower, on a hill. There is a cell tower on high ground just down the road, where he and Greg Johnson of Skunk Bay identified one of the points of origin. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLn_Zz-OffpeoriC_ksgXmVFnygZknFY_lJ36Xhb5Zp6xdNTgk3RHKzbA3HHsLa2r21uw8G6uxQEXuosSaBJkyuJ08TPOvMkCPmj9hGVIhX6ZKAvOAjb_zYrp51oyeOFKkuT0cwq5qSc/s2016/IMG_5459.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLn_Zz-OffpeoriC_ksgXmVFnygZknFY_lJ36Xhb5Zp6xdNTgk3RHKzbA3HHsLa2r21uw8G6uxQEXuosSaBJkyuJ08TPOvMkCPmj9hGVIhX6ZKAvOAjb_zYrp51oyeOFKkuT0cwq5qSc/w480-h640/IMG_5459.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><i>Bill Poss photo</i></b></span><br /></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Meanwhile, What's This Hanging from a Tree?<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Notwithstanding February's hail and snow, the days are warming and nature is looking ahead to spring. This week Kate Poss asked if I knew what bird made this hanging sock nest. She and her husband, Bill, came upon it when they were out walking.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">This seems upside down to me. Most birds build their nests from the bottom up. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I've never found one of these personally, but was pretty sure it was a Bushtit nest. In fact my blog partner, Craig Johnson, happens to have a wonderful <a href="https://www.pugetsoundbackyardbirds.com/Bushtits%20video.html" target="_blank">narrated video</a> about bushtits on his website, which shows them building a nest like this in his yard.</span></span></p><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Most
people who offer suet during fall and winter months have witnessed a
swarm or flock of Bushtits engulf the entire feeder," Craig said, "but their natural diet
consists of tiny insects, spiders and, at times, seeds. Listening to
Bushtits chatter back-and-forth </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">will bring a smile to anyone’s face </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">as they search for and glean insects
from underbrush."</span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The tiny birds keep on the move. <br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ambU5VzTotzxATQNtNowEEudxt4MMqsaFyJD21Tc4rzQJPLUOCN_Cy3w0hKzRav1vWBLRIIpkonCNnQcJbM-Dh_PdEfeP7vCrm1BwoRWFfatYxVqHwFxcs8BhZxF5cTYlcfHZbgfLzY/s1700/Screen+Shot+2021-03-06+at+1.04.16+AM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="944" data-original-width="1700" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ambU5VzTotzxATQNtNowEEudxt4MMqsaFyJD21Tc4rzQJPLUOCN_Cy3w0hKzRav1vWBLRIIpkonCNnQcJbM-Dh_PdEfeP7vCrm1BwoRWFfatYxVqHwFxcs8BhZxF5cTYlcfHZbgfLzY/w640-h356/Screen+Shot+2021-03-06+at+1.04.16+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Bushit fledlings snuggle together on a branch between feedings -- <i><a href="https://www.pugetsoundbackyardbirds.com/Bushtits%20video.html" target="_blank">screen capture from Craig Johnson's video.</a></i></b></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I’ve
only seen these birds at rest when taking in a spot of winter-time sun
or tired fledglings in need of a “nap," Craig said. "Often, kinglets and chickadees
may join a foraging flock, but all go their separate ways come spring,
when birds begin to pair up to raise families. As with wrens and other
small birds, Bushtits typically have two broods each year, if food and
conditions are right. Bushtits mate for life, at least much of it."</span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">What's especially fascinating about Bushtits is the way they help each other. <br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Most
birders know a breeding pair of American Crows often receive aid from
their previous year’s brood. In other words, their “teenagers” help them
in raising the new offspring. Interesting is the fact that Bushtits may
also receive help from other bushtits, but not necessarily from their
own gene pool. A video I captured revealed more than a single pair
entering and leaving the nest opening.</span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"A
Bushtit nest is something to behold, a real work of art and
engineering! As with hummingbirds, spider silk is the “glue” that holds
plant down and other materials together. Species like Bullock’s Orioles
also construct a sock-like, hanging nest, but it is amazing to watch
tiny Bushtits build such an elaborate home.</span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMyOKj3Bxd5ybPLhz1nb2yrxnvwX541BXqAEw9pZQgrxR3L4w_JAf500L8mcB8TNbsdapGg7h8OPt6vvY5ACjmpUdeV-zJu9qg1p92Edxta_DZJTuDKH4Ks1RrQxvBSgkt3gxKLrddHc/s1538/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+3.58.12+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="1538" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMyOKj3Bxd5ybPLhz1nb2yrxnvwX541BXqAEw9pZQgrxR3L4w_JAf500L8mcB8TNbsdapGg7h8OPt6vvY5ACjmpUdeV-zJu9qg1p92Edxta_DZJTuDKH4Ks1RrQxvBSgkt3gxKLrddHc/w640-h402/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+3.58.12+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Here's another screen capture from Craig's video. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">The bird on the left is a "leaner.</span></span>"</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"If
you can get close enough, you will notice females have pale yellow
irises, while males have brown. Otherwise, they are monomorphic -- they
share the same plumage coloring."</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nesting season for Bushtits starts about mid-March, but some nest construction starts earlier in February. Whether the nest Bill and Kate Poss found is a new nest or one from a previous season, we should know pretty soon. Bushtits generally don't re-use old nests, so any activity with birds entering and leaving it will indicate a new nest.</span></span></p><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzSq3kjPc4Iu8nK2yfB086ksIiDc2xxleU88k6FdoKSHz_k8x2WDxzvp9eb-T9WBCoUz_GJMiCHQ2TwFVv4Wve4O-OvgVhaU9FzZkVRMY1TNYihynNXkytfWGskv6UISvxnMJgkJKius/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="718" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzSq3kjPc4Iu8nK2yfB086ksIiDc2xxleU88k6FdoKSHz_k8x2WDxzvp9eb-T9WBCoUz_GJMiCHQ2TwFVv4Wve4O-OvgVhaU9FzZkVRMY1TNYihynNXkytfWGskv6UISvxnMJgkJKius/w480-h640/153138785_268714854618191_8781397667575073098_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What Is Wrong With People?<br /></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Finally, I have a few recent scraps from Facebook to provide food for thought.<br /></span></span></p><p></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">T</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">his spelling of "tongs" intrigues me. Is this French? I ask for a reason.<br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Once I use my tongue, all the pastries belong to me. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was in a writers group with a woman whose native tongue was French. It was more complicated than that because she actually grew up in Algeria. The group was sitting around the table one evening, reading her story. I'm still laughing at the way she described the unforgettable call of a Canada goose in her yard that reared back and barked "Oink!" Apparently this was the phonetic spelling of "honk."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It took a few minutes to restore order in the room. Mary Jo snapped her pencil and had to leave for a minute.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My French friend now lives out of state but still reads this blog and I'm withholding her name, but she knows who she is. I'm laughing <i>with</i> her, remembering those good times. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgIxa1-OCzXPHQSnQkG0e3_PWZQu6Tlf6XqNu3_pLCVPIr4bH9XgM1Z-ZvksIeGcLWIAY3OY3SYnvx6KwkEPsTi559GS2oA7WD0wcv6eQb7ANmvOZT308K4QANsuP-3XuM7SgpaTBv-I/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1006" data-original-width="1158" height="557" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgIxa1-OCzXPHQSnQkG0e3_PWZQu6Tlf6XqNu3_pLCVPIr4bH9XgM1Z-ZvksIeGcLWIAY3OY3SYnvx6KwkEPsTi559GS2oA7WD0wcv6eQb7ANmvOZT308K4QANsuP-3XuM7SgpaTBv-I/w640-h557/153617147_3301367059969766_813470561503560883_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My friend Joe Sheldon wonders why this advice is needed on pizza boxes. "Who are these people?" he asks. "They walk among us."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I bought an unnecessarily complicated, high-tech Chinese flashlight recently and it came with helpful guidance. "If missing, please let us know immediately." I've been feeling lost. Should I let them know?<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I also bought a magnet on a stick -- one of those gadgets for retrieving screws or other metallic objects from tight places where you can't reach. It came with a warning to maintain proper footing to avoid injury, plus this assurance, "We have worked to treat every customer like we'd treat our mom. If there is an issue or you have some question let us know and we'll be right on it." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I really don't want Mom to know I misused the magnet.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgykEFm3VpczFx64khwV9qWnqSlTJytN_sV67L4PiasmYCgp0My_hLfwVs1i8r9h_gQrHSnHM-NjQwuvRRhZoZ_ZhENBNbwXm-qWs2Pzl5Ti2wt3dSgZnzzTCyX9d-sr7bKvKUIQJd714/s960/130198942_10217418919695888_8022221763880964774_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="890" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgykEFm3VpczFx64khwV9qWnqSlTJytN_sV67L4PiasmYCgp0My_hLfwVs1i8r9h_gQrHSnHM-NjQwuvRRhZoZ_ZhENBNbwXm-qWs2Pzl5Ti2wt3dSgZnzzTCyX9d-sr7bKvKUIQJd714/w594-h640/130198942_10217418919695888_8022221763880964774_n.jpg" width="594" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">And then there was this -- enough to make me put away my car keys for a while.</span></span><br /><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">I
publish this blog on Saturdays -- some, probably most, but not all -- from my home on Whidbey Island
with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";">Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
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<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
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<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /> </span></span><br /><p></p>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569049668380829798.post-58058376174743922652021-02-27T00:30:00.239-08:002021-02-27T05:48:29.237-08:00441 -- Romance in the Snow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-_6ix0EBfnvACX6ACt-pgkI1jaQ4GCLL8cVIR7fJ8ZeDuK4paSrDHavKP96y7XBqUoDwYMdsYF6gtU8WOvwJB1MjDjelaxYFjVQ0QC8wcaUmzMCE0amg72MW37qv0ibksc44cbgH7Wk/w625-h416/150413765_10219678746976246_7208982975612137758_n.jpg" width="625" /></div></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Anna's Hummingbirds mating in the snow. <i>Copyright 2021 Carla Corin </i></span></b><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Here's something we don't see very often -- a first for me. These are Anna's Hummingbirds mating in the snow. Carla Corin of Oak Harbor shot the pictures in her yard during our recent big snowfall.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Carla has a degree in marine biology and her husband, Lenny, studied ecology and was with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska, so they know their way around the outdoors. I got to know Lenny while working for the county's Marine Resources Committee a few years ago. They have been photographing birds all winter, getting some remarkable images often without leaving home.<br /></span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWoxYtFGI0bPuT6UOTKyvbsXgI4Eb0Q-6LQyWwBc_ziwk7T78ZqvNPzVpocW_R_800z0kCEVPB340FIdUbjELb0yzA4ODXgDdxknvm8ayoT_JK79GJgZYuxETT6FBq6TUy3h7qfFGrds/s960/150091094_10219678747056248_109157292432153773_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWoxYtFGI0bPuT6UOTKyvbsXgI4Eb0Q-6LQyWwBc_ziwk7T78ZqvNPzVpocW_R_800z0kCEVPB340FIdUbjELb0yzA4ODXgDdxknvm8ayoT_JK79GJgZYuxETT6FBq6TUy3h7qfFGrds/w654-h435/150091094_10219678747056248_109157292432153773_n.jpg" width="654" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i><b>Copyright 2021 Carla Corin</b></i></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></span></span><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Lenny saw them first," Carla said, "and we then grabbed our cameras and started photographing them through the window. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">We had never seen this before! Afterwards, the female remained sitting in the snow long enough that we were a little worried maybe she couldn’t take off from the deep snow, so I went outside to check. She did take off as I approached, so all was good. We know they nest as early as February, but we’ve never found a nest in our yard (yet)."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Puget Sound seems totally wrong for a hummingbird in the winter, but Anna's have been overwintering here for years now. They rely heavily on hummingbird feeders when nectar and protein (insects) are so scarce. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">My blog partner, Craig Johnson, is such a hummingbird guy I asked him to comment on Carla and Lenny's photos. He had a lot to say.<br /></span></span></p><div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Anna’s are one of the more
insectivorous hummingbird species, consuming copious amounts
of those tiny gnat-like winged creatures perceived as pests," Craig said.
"Hard freezes and icy conditions reduce insect activity, so
Anna’s Hummingbirds rely heavily on winter blooming plants and
nectar feeders offered by people. Torpor (a mini hibernation)
slows their metabolism and heart rate down, but is no
substitute for food. "</span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEz7qY5Pkpju4YyvdfYxR4YRXQ2nDLv1G0JhCSmnOCQSFLH93kqzNMy4nYnUhE_qq38g84xgCgkrsCdzTw6pBwDbCxCrT-VtookdKab_MXVOa6ZCoG87a38AfXNQfMR6e3aQILG_w-lQo/s960/149823387_10219678746416232_890341692827447337_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEz7qY5Pkpju4YyvdfYxR4YRXQ2nDLv1G0JhCSmnOCQSFLH93kqzNMy4nYnUhE_qq38g84xgCgkrsCdzTw6pBwDbCxCrT-VtookdKab_MXVOa6ZCoG87a38AfXNQfMR6e3aQILG_w-lQo/w640-h426/149823387_10219678746416232_890341692827447337_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Copyright 2021 Carla Corin</span></b></i></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span>
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Rufous Hummingbirds are
long-time Pacific Northwest nesters who migrate from the
higher elevations of Southern Mexico. Anna’s are newcomers by
comparison, historically occurring from the Bay Area south to
Baja California. Evidence of Anna’s nesting in Washington
was first recorded in 1976 and this species has expanded
its range dramatically since."</span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It seems like Anna's do everything the hard way. <br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span>
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Anna’s typically breed between
February-April, which is perfect timing, because Rufous are
here in number by April. The earliest Joy and I have seen an
adult female feeding her two nestlings was mid February. They
looked to be about ten days old, which means the female had to
copulate with a male at least 22 days beforehand, in January!"</span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Most of the work of raising young falls on the females, Craig said. <br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span>
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Female hummingbirds are the
ultimate in single motherhood. They can be seen dusk
til dawn collecting nesting materials followed by food for
their offspring. We refrain from deadheading some shrubs that
provide plant down, and also leave spider webs intact under
eves, which serve as nest building materials. Early bloomers,
like native Red-flowering Current and Salmon Berry grow in our
yard… </span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span>
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Ash from organic wood-burning,
mixed with dirt, attracts female hummingbirds, as their bodies
demand minerals to aid in eggshell development and possibly to
feed offspring.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> I’ve witnessed them consuming
this ash/earth mixture, in breeding season, for over a decade -- that's
Rufous and Anna’s females only."</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHTNVnBQ_PFndUmM4XoyX7P6sRNhM70nYizeqxEe6b1qQkMgC9lNaVYe06mD9xp_q8CGLhgtkqM2PgIKmbuULBvXWnSHMQlOO467ucVNr6L01o_HVc1063-8eavGApTvPmBF5fC4CXHs/s960/150616495_10219678746536235_5751848251178330441_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHTNVnBQ_PFndUmM4XoyX7P6sRNhM70nYizeqxEe6b1qQkMgC9lNaVYe06mD9xp_q8CGLhgtkqM2PgIKmbuULBvXWnSHMQlOO467ucVNr6L01o_HVc1063-8eavGApTvPmBF5fC4CXHs/w640-h426/150616495_10219678746536235_5751848251178330441_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Copyright 2021 Carla Corin</i></b></span></span></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span>
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">
</span></span><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Hummingbirds need habitat, and too much grooming of a yard makes theirs lives harder, Craig said.</span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Hummingbirds may frequent a
nectar feeder or even nest in a shrub within an over-groomed
yard (especially Anna’s)," he said. "However, nest-building materials and
insects must then be found elsewhere, putting undue stress on
the female. As our neighborhood becomes more developed,
over-groomed and 'sterilized,' wildlife will continue to lose
ground."</span></span></div></div><p></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In March (or so), the Anna's big competitor shows up here to breed, the migratory Rufous Hummingbirds, and then action at the feeder and throughout the yard gets crazy. Hummingbirds are very possessive of resources (feeders). The male Rufous are fierce. In fact all hummingbirds are unbelievably feisty and tough. You have to be tough to survive our cold nights, especially the Anna's that live here year-round.<br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBUcFNgQJ2p66-umMLj3PGk_wwmxztVKlt1FlA0g1jAyvUicfUYPo7Js-lxFt8b1MNaKcOWvfJB5eOhDJgwvm8BjwlfF9BNJk56BzEASejI0k8v9qmg6vAeek2776UMzUB3MDHy5H6Vo/s810/147266335_10226028651881697_1033035024991174258_o+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="810" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBUcFNgQJ2p66-umMLj3PGk_wwmxztVKlt1FlA0g1jAyvUicfUYPo7Js-lxFt8b1MNaKcOWvfJB5eOhDJgwvm8BjwlfF9BNJk56BzEASejI0k8v9qmg6vAeek2776UMzUB3MDHy5H6Vo/w640-h426/147266335_10226028651881697_1033035024991174258_o+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Flying starfish. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></span></b></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Carla and Lenny's hummingbirds weren't the only noteworthy images this week. Jann Ledbetter of Coupeville keeps coming up with surprises, such as this flying starfish at Keystone Spit on Whidbey Island.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Birds, especially gulls, make a practice of carrying marine creatures high into the air and then dropping them, to soften them up for eating. It's a good way to break into a clam, but I haven't seen this tried with a starfish before and it's hard to imagine it making much difference, but what do I know?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Jann also took another picture to put the starfish into context.<br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="810" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHbXae_8so1nTbyg5KqxBthKeg7tQe3n-DsmChuCgLpL531-ztioE85szP5j8n-JzGnm_N7ggzclnH8B_jHQS09gWmkOR-gwyWXm83i6J4IQ5k1YEn6td9ftKIOsdhNym9hci6MrIyQbA/w640-h426/147548658_10226038249601634_7992830376909507878_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></b></span></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Gull dropping starfish. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter<br /></i></b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfs-ZhYwiImwobmNPMptqP4I_gcfHCObPVHDG-lMNffUYBoDcZChMbodbEgdJdk8-wgo-ipBruem4I2mmjP1KzxK__vSxE2t0TtqIOicZuLibUi-cQBpfA_VLOK0GzlPNADfLLdOEixg/s809/152305538_10226136105167962_1856614851108057857_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="809" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfs-ZhYwiImwobmNPMptqP4I_gcfHCObPVHDG-lMNffUYBoDcZChMbodbEgdJdk8-wgo-ipBruem4I2mmjP1KzxK__vSxE2t0TtqIOicZuLibUi-cQBpfA_VLOK0GzlPNADfLLdOEixg/w640-h428/152305538_10226136105167962_1856614851108057857_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Gull with a problem. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></b><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">She also came upon a gull with a rock or clam in its mouth. "I'm afraid this is not going to end well," she said. "I couldn't stand to watch. He was definitely struggling."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rZ3xeCXRzR7qXG09P6bnGB-WQDM5wgYwNPZBFJ_Hym0H9W7ZwMW_4crUpqXjqlaiL3YwwAlhSYFP88eq0jB4YIWm7R6H0aqPkDMsqbjoIsDCw2xI5RRDrhG6-5LL9p_VoZG1cE5z6WA/s526/148906665_10226049595765281_4441069712525393154_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="526" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rZ3xeCXRzR7qXG09P6bnGB-WQDM5wgYwNPZBFJ_Hym0H9W7ZwMW_4crUpqXjqlaiL3YwwAlhSYFP88eq0jB4YIWm7R6H0aqPkDMsqbjoIsDCw2xI5RRDrhG6-5LL9p_VoZG1cE5z6WA/w640-h640/148906665_10226049595765281_4441069712525393154_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Short-eared Owl. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></span><br /></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Jann has been getting some sensational images lately, along with the oddities. This has been a good winter for Short-eared Owls at Crockett Lake and I really liked her handsome "extreme crop" of this one.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4_YE93cybEKgz83sVnVpsK_m92Lrw61YeyOfJy-1tQVSKhCxoYYOrJw8pUHa7pt2mWs2TIHKM1eZfduo9EzA2EWtqIYv7nnYZbdQmZJZktXgwnyiKs3RDDxA_JKvM1MpevvVaeIG2ZI/s1606/151430014_10226115567174525_450345322448714877_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="1606" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4_YE93cybEKgz83sVnVpsK_m92Lrw61YeyOfJy-1tQVSKhCxoYYOrJw8pUHa7pt2mWs2TIHKM1eZfduo9EzA2EWtqIYv7nnYZbdQmZJZktXgwnyiKs3RDDxA_JKvM1MpevvVaeIG2ZI/w640-h360/151430014_10226115567174525_450345322448714877_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Skagit Valley swans. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></span><br /></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span><span>Then there was this golden image of swans in the Skagit Valley, which Jann photographed at sunrise.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mAkdUCIP_vwKDSjv4KIOp1QBIYwxUNHEqcDgI_N1xYtX2j1r9lRO5ef44PtkmZLnlqvAYPuLX37CWjht-YGX4yVc0VbmAcW_8zc-4yBCidhvulCVPFCStCPsBApZySPilzAokv5C5ZA/s1050/145579584_10225995239606411_8124809039890221484_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1050" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mAkdUCIP_vwKDSjv4KIOp1QBIYwxUNHEqcDgI_N1xYtX2j1r9lRO5ef44PtkmZLnlqvAYPuLX37CWjht-YGX4yVc0VbmAcW_8zc-4yBCidhvulCVPFCStCPsBApZySPilzAokv5C5ZA/w640-h640/145579584_10225995239606411_8124809039890221484_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Meadowlark. <i>Copyright 2021 Jann Pulfer Ledbetter</i></span></b><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span><span>And a Meadowlark, which we don't see very often.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span>Winter photography has its challenges, but with so many remarkable moments happening in the world of birds, it's hard to call this the off season.</span></span></span></span></span></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEged3QoH4Q6y0THp-pvGph0S5bQeRPnbpULBkaDTXVtkGkV6AXBtz5g6yPBBe1EaGUjkcJzeHXFnfZ4SBd8t3SwObXD-NERLzJv6hAlsp6ngdYpFX0Pse3do_Sj7stO2awcl9wFWVYHI7E/s2048/20210211-AK1I1001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEged3QoH4Q6y0THp-pvGph0S5bQeRPnbpULBkaDTXVtkGkV6AXBtz5g6yPBBe1EaGUjkcJzeHXFnfZ4SBd8t3SwObXD-NERLzJv6hAlsp6ngdYpFX0Pse3do_Sj7stO2awcl9wFWVYHI7E/w426-h640/20210211-AK1I1001.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Cedar Waxwing in Seattle's Union Bay. </b></span><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Copyright 2021 Larry Hubbell</b></span><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><span><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Check Out the Waxwings on Union Bay Watch</span></span> </span></span></span></span></span><br /></h1><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our friend and fellow blogger, Larry Hubbell, keeps a close watch on bird activity in Seattle's Union Bay. This week he wrote about Cedar Waxwings and how they handled the snow. Waxwings are simply among the most elegant and beautiful birds I know. They are berry eaters, and found what they were looking for in Seattle.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Click here to visit Larry's blog, <a href="https://unionbaywatch.blogspot.com/2021/02/winter-waxwings.html" target="_blank">Union Bay Watch.</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">If you'd like to sign up for his gorgeous weekly posts, send him your email address. You'll find instructions on his page. </span></span><br /></p></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Communicating With the Dead</span></span><br /></span></span></h1><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The other day I received a Facebook friend request from a deceased acquaintance in Langley. It came over Facebook Messenger, a service I detest because of all the hacking and viruses that take place there. Sue got the same request.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">"He's updated his banner photo," she said. Seems like dead people have a lot of time to work on their Facebook pages.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Much as I'd like to know about our friend's new life on the "other side," I think I'll pass on this and almost everything else I get on Messenger.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">The day's spam also brought an offer to meet "desperate Russian girls" who would like to date American men. Well, that was tempting, but again, I think I'll pass. "Desperate" was a nice touch in that one.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Please, as I've said in the past, if you have something to say to me, send me an email, not a Messenger note. And don't send me any videos. I won't open them. If you send me a note that says, "How's it going?" I guarantee you'll never hear from me.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><b>To Receive This Blog Weekly</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">I
publish this blog on Saturdays -- some, probably most, but not all -- from my home on Whidbey Island
with a short bcc email to subscribers. To be added to the list to
receive an email each time I post something new, write me at <i>dogwood@whidbey.com</i>. Same if you wish to be removed from the email list.<i> </i>To browse other posts published in this blog, please click on this link to the <a href="http://pedersenwrites.blogspot.com/">blog's home page</a>.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Privacy and Reader Information</b><br />
I
use reader email addresses solely to send readers a link to new posts.
This blog is maintained on the Google Blogger platform, and Blogger's
policies and terms of use determine what cookies or other data they
collect when readers click on the link<b> </b>or post comments on the blog.<b> </b>In
asking to be added to the email list and opening the link, readers give
their consent for the collection of this data. Readers who click on the
link from Facebook should understand Facebook's policies about cookies
and the collection of user-data.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/s1280/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1280" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp9XpwgMgI5L-YzflL0Z2hG97X95fjEibHYxgfimW5VVOl9GL0lEQw8XaNCzmfvmXIDsSgE8W5TN2YJ8hyphenhyphenDikJcxZQyVAuzPAmu4YCSo77yTqEU_91gDulax85_8930Infv84uja-tH4/w640-h392/9+mysteries+equal+Word+doc+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nine mysteries in the order of publication.</span></span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><h1><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: "times";">Where to Buy Books on Whidbey Island<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Island
bookshops carry my mysteries, and all of my books also are
available for online purchase from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dan-Pedersen/e/B00IYL5E5I/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. To learn more about the books, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8569049668380829798/2627219131541827901" target="_blank">click on this link.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">Here's where to shop for books on Whidbey Island.<br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: large;">
<b>Wind & Tide Bookshop, </b>Oak Harbor, is open 11-4 Tuesdays - Saturdays<span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Kingfisher Bookstore</b> in Coupeville is open to walk-ins 11-6 daily. It's also possible to search Kingfisher's inventory by visiting their website, <a href="https://kingfisherbookstore.com/">https://kingfisherbookstore.com/</a><br />
<br />
On
the website's home screen, look ABOVE the black bar at the very top of
the page. Select a keyword, such as Author or Title, and type your
search in the box to the right. Or call the shop at 360-678-8463 for
help and recommendations.<br />
<br />
<b>Moonraker Books</b>
in Langley is open Thursdays thru Tuesdays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., closed
Wednesdays. "You can still reach us by phone, or email
moonrkr@whidbey.com. And you can continue to order direct to your home
through <span style="color: red;"><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshop.org%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3SCflWt5QG90YZZBfxCz1UR8j1oT8F3cDCq4Yg5PRg2BU6JqbmHFvce9k&h=AT3oTBwTCOwgsY3frdYqNIaf4lOK51m0q3veh2EyYoNNGSIkWOw1ik_RQ8HaUO-xtLaTypHp-lALyATkl_VBXFJ2PN7KKZUCWz4Pb3ywwe93ZfPvtuPV-L1aWpGbRm60VPuDqHSzKnEu1IccVwmMsk9EETTCDBWquTbuLdJP0l4G3HQiy8Z4KfZyEpONSa1EkXiJZZjvDdJr7tx_mLHX9oEhsQJA7jTDcFntu8KZP_5ubbzXhVJKvhvQEeSwAQ9EeG9R0V9ENuQXbHr99hIF6p7xxchhHloCO33tMS_aE3xV-vrt2hN5b5yObB5HeKy_KVwdggfmL2DAhYTNlXqv7wvPDIHQbtjuAzlfLZBdVOBvZ0Ymv2HZnj8kYJ9YDVy5MZg4y8Nw9Sof58qXNoUiQJLDyKQw46DRDXkxqoTBJiJ-vWimAjM8XQyPGHaz-pXU312-OgKFyJFZuIslS_DDD2m291hs8OJQXWUQM6gNGUOl5taPZxNHgUjad-e_EueEjtTt2MbiYbIpKkERYMsJ-UBfIJTPJgtgN6cx5Zj56VC-HeVtzKWlGD0IxrEQasK_81yaM8skGBKdIMXDbSNgxsY2SXWkYu70JN74cbcAn5bpTnqTgVDjrOy6D-6pX5qjss8_jbfr0i5ZPUa66rqSPaAKBjLFhMVrJUYil48sl_RPqP6faQ" rel="noopener nofollow" target="_blank">bookshop.org<span style="color: black;">.</span></a> </span><br />
<br />
"You may click on <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker">https://bookshop.org/shop/moonraker</a>.
We receive a percentage of the profit. There is a shipping charge, but
the book price is discounted, allowing your cost to be about the same as
it would be at our store. It's another way to help your local
businesses without leaving home!"<br />
<br />
<b>Commons Cafe and Books</b>
in Langley is open 8-5 daily for food and coffee drink orders from the
takeout window, but the bookshop is currently closed.</span>Dan Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12394699068556538583noreply@blogger.com14