|
Morris Graves introduced Xenia and me to a miniature
island in Puget Sound at Deception Pass.
To get there we traveled from Seattle about
seventy-five miles north and west to Anacortes
Island, then south to the Pass, where
we parked. We walked along a rocky beach
and then across a sandy stretch that was passable
only at low tide to another island,
continuing through some luxuriant woods up a hill
where now and then we had views of the
surrounding waters and distant islands,
until finally we came to a small footbridge that
led to our destination — an island
no larger than, say, a modest home.
This island was carpeted with flowers
and was so situated that all of Deception
Pass was visible from it, just as
though we were in the best seats of an
intimate theatre. While we were
lying there on that bed of flowers,
some other people came across the footbridge.
One of them said to another,
“You come all this way and then when
you get here there’s nothing to see.”
|