Growing up on the Olympic Peninsula has given me so much opportunity to learn and grow. To be able to walk out our front door and head straight to the ocean, the mountains or the lush green mossy forests. To that fact, I am ever so grateful for the ability to do the same for my son with the help of my husband.
None of this would have been possible if it weren't for that one day that my mom and dad met in a moss covered town on the west coast of the Olympic mountains. Aberdeen, an old logging town with many stories to tell, some good and some not. One story started here, a story that is my own. One that I only remember bits and pieces of but it's my story and what makes me who I am today.
As Spring rolled around and my dads birthday passed on March 21st, this year a reminder of the fact that he is no longer with us. But also a reminder of truly how much he meant to our family, and how much he taught us girls. He used to say "My birthdays coming up, you know what that means right? The morels should be popping up." something we all surly won't forget no matter how much time passes. With the harsh and lingering cold this winter, we are all left waiting. This year his birthday came and went and not a single morel has been found yet by the Miller's. Not quite time to give up on the search but a sore reminder of passing time. So here we are waiting on warmer rains, waiting on that life bringing liquid to wake up the hidden gems under the soil just waiting to fruit and grace us with their mushroom-y beauty.