Karis & Joel

Though raised in Bellingham, I'd never taken the 6-minute passage on the Whatcom Chief from Gooseberry Point to Lummi Island, had only heard of Willows' many coursed meals of grilled geoduck, toasted birch branches and bread from heirloom wheat and crab brain.

I enjoy that there are pockets of this place still undiscovered. And that a woman who is as spread as I, on top of beautiful, with sparkling bright eyes, the best moles, a wonderful cook (her father's daughter), and lover of chickens, would be a part of my life, of pole vaulting and steepling, of serving wine, of stay overs at her Seattle family home, of insatiable hunger for oysters raw and mignonetted, of good cocktails and better wine, of all-you-can-eat sushi, of that one good night at the Fairmont, BC, treated to courses of anchovies, parmesan doughnut, quail eggs & romaine puree tossed with roasted garlic vinaigrette, and crab consumme, and seared halibut with new potatoes & grilled squash in warm brown butter & almond vinaigrette, and duck breast with charred-on-the-vine tomato, red quinoa & stone fruit lacquer, and cherry juice brined skirt steak with cherry chimichurri & haricot vert. Plus a cheeseboard of vials & bottles of pollen speckled honey & dips and fresh baked loaves of cornbread with rosemary-pollen butter. And live music & dancing, her hands ever reaching, up, in clutch, trying to pinch the bassist (and I, the pincher too), and dimsum, and food always - this woman we celebrated back in June, who got married in July on Joel's family's land - a beautiful old home in remodel, down on the beach along the driftwood and reeds, calling me to Lummi for the first time.

When she got accepted to nursing school in Bellingham, I said a silent thank you, because when you find people that only pour joy into your open and empty places, you want them proximate.

On July 22, Red and I boarded the Whatcom Chief, drove to the ceremony campground on a big plot of land beside the old home with its thick length of lavender, and set up camp. I walked down to the water for a cold soak, sipped wine on Red's new blow up sofa, dressed in the tent & headed down, down to ceremonious drinking and gathering in honor of K & J. Rosé & vinho verde in old thick lipped bathtubs, Kulshan kegs, basil gimlets, grapefruit kentucky mules and lavender lemonade between.

Buzzing, flirty eyes and reminiscing in clusters before we were gathered alongside a driftwood aisle. Karis in thick cream lace, a plunging neck & floral heels was walked by her Father, the Fairmont Chef. With personal vows read by her aunt & escaped through their lips, a kiss, and the filmy, iridescent gleam of bubbles, the two and their procession walked up and out.

We minglers, growing ever more playful, surrounded the oyster table where a man in chef's whites was shucking fresh, each shell picked up as soon as it was placed on the platter of ice. One slurp, and an encouraged toss to the beach behind.

All of us seated along long white linen tables of drift, her father's grilled vegetables on white platters with basil pesto drizzled from a squeeze bottle, Goat Mountain pizza made from the truck, cut & paired with deviled eggs & cheese plates of apricot and bleu. Red pulling from his magic bag, his magic wine, sharing with our table and our table sharing with us homemade booch.

The sky, which had had layers of grey and gray the day through, opened at sunset with a red orb, and the long ropes of yellow bulbs strung in the sky above a wood dance floor built against the beach was the quintessential setting for a. sensual & seductively whispered commentary and b. celebrating the night and the two as the night drew.

Somehow - I'm thinking it could only be the exact right place at the right time with the right people - somehow, I danced for near 6 hours, after having run 20 miles just hours before. I outdanced Red, who crawled in our tent bed, danced with one of our favorite couples, Caitlin & Joseph, Joseph who dropped to his knees in that good Eric Nally way, bruising his beautiful, tender inner knee-skin, danced with all those bachelorette party women who felt as close as a physical representation of an inside joke, until, finally, I climbed up from the beach and into bed with Red.

We woke in early light, took down our camp and boarded the small ferry back. Home. Then to Olalla for an early 30th get-together with Red's family - the wedding an early start to an endless string of celebration and more love than I know what to do with.