Winter Walks in and Around Seattle

Seattle's woods in winter hold treasures and miracles for those brave enough to venture out. The woods beckon, and the air is crisp and clean. Streams, lined with green watercress, tinkle and gurgle down a ravine. Birds trill in the trees. Little boys might take you for a walk.

Seattle has the reputation (richly deserved) of being gloomy and rainy and forbidding in winter. But one thing I learned during my 17 years there is that I couldn't let the rain keep me from doing anything I wanted to do. My group of friends defied the gloom and went on regular foul-weather picnics.

We visited the tulip fields in Skagit Valley in February. We grilled hot dogs and ate them sitting on an inch of ice in a park overlooking Lake Washington. We sat in slickers and boots watching my 2-year-old son and his friends stomp in puddles until they were soaked and giggling.

Now that I live in sunny California, I'm sure my tush couldn't sit on an inch of ice. But I discovered on a recent trip that I can still appreciate winter on Puget Sound. And little boys can still help you appreciate the weather.

I've married into a wonderful family and am visiting my new grandchildren for the first time. The best hike I take is with Reagan, 2 1/2 , and Landon, 18 months. It is a stroll after dinner and before bath time. Landon rides in the stroller, and Reagan helps me push. We head to Richmond Beach Park, just blocks from their home.

Should I admit here that I'm avoiding dirty dishes and scattered toys and the stressful end of a family day? Grandmas get to do that, right?

But the best part is that Reagan calls me "honey." When I get up from reading a book on the floor he asks, "Can we go for a walk, honey?"

We amble through their neighborhood to the park at the end of the road. We gaze across water to the Olympic Mountains in their winter whites. Tugs and barges and ferries ply Puget Sound, soundlessly. Waves lap at the flat beach. We stand on the edge of our known universe and talk about the things little boys care about: birds and peeling bark and dog poop and skipping stones. We watch the sunset as the colors sing -- first a chorus, then the blues and finally a lullaby.

It is time to go home to bed.

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On this trip I discover and rediscover a number of winter walks. The first is Yost Memorial Park in Edmonds, close to the bed-and-breakfast where my husband and I are staying just north of Seattle.

Our hosts, Helon and Marion Wilkinson, at the Maple Tree Bed and Breakfast, tell us they've seen people entering a park on Main Street, but they've never been inside. We are stuffed with Helon's homemade waffles and need a walk, so we stab around the neighborhoods until we see someone emerging from the dense brush.