The first time I ever went to Yellow Island in 1996, I was
with a blind woman—a much loved
and respected member of my community.
While the rest of us feasted on riotous colors and sweeping views, she
was carefully led to perfumed scents, the rough touch of lichen against rock, 
smooth
and cool Madrona bark, 
and the raised letters of the memorial to homesteaders Lew
and Tib Dodd. 
I think that was when I first glimpsed the complex character of
this small island. Only 11 acres,
The Nature Conservancy's preserve manages to feel like an entire world, existing almost out of time in the
middle of the San Juan Islands. 
and busy with conversations and logistics
during nearly all of the intense training period.That visit to Yellow almost ended with me spending all my time in the cabin,
talking and planning. At the last minute, I dashed out,
alone and well behind the guided group. I was astonished at the power of the
island, and the incredible sense of being somewhere far away, though I was in
familiar territory between San Juan
and Orcas islands. The wind was blowing hard and the taste of wild was
in the air. I didn’t forget that stolen moment in the 5 visits I have had
since. 
It was a great honor to go back to Yellow recently, in the company of my friend, the caretaker of this Nature Conservancy gem, Phil Green, along with composer and blogger Alex Shapiro and her partner
Dan, and
naturalist/author and blogger Monika Wieland and Keith. Note the common theme
of blogger. Alex is an amazing composer and her blog about life in the San Juan
Islands is a joy to read http://www.alexshapiro.org/blog/. Monika is an incredible photographer 
and naturalist who is building quite a compendium of local knowledge about life in and around
the Salish Sea http://www.orcawatcher.com/.  |
| Oh yeah,and then there's me... |
From Yellow Island, I know what a San Juan prairie looks
like. Perhaps “prairie” is not the
best name… It might conjure up
rolling fields of grass. But the rich and amazing prairie of Yellow Island is
not that at all. It is a fragile remnant of what much of the islands used to
look like, thanks to the Native American practice of burning. 
It is also a place that has been
carefully managed to keep away invasive species, guiding and educating visitors
so that careless behavior doesn’t destroy the delicate seasonal pageant of an
intricate ecosystem . What a remarkable difference.
It is also a place that has been
carefully managed to keep away invasive species, guiding and educating visitors
so that careless behavior doesn’t destroy the delicate seasonal pageant of an
intricate ecosystem . What a remarkable difference.
On this, my 7th trip to Yellow, I thought back to
what our blind explorer experienced. It was also the first time I had taken in quite a few to be
still. Instead of shepherding anyone around and talking, I laid on my back in
the middle of the path and listened to the heartbeat of the island. 
It is a
place of sound. In constant motion, harbor seals stirred, flapping flippers,
grunting, and splashing. The sweet
song of white crowned sparrow floated over the air, interspersed with the
whirring wing whistle of the rufous hummingbird.
It is a
place of sound. In constant motion, harbor seals stirred, flapping flippers,
grunting, and splashing. The sweet
song of white crowned sparrow floated over the air, interspersed with the
whirring wing whistle of the rufous hummingbird.
When I stopped again in the north side of the island, the
low buzzing of the orange-rumped or black tailed bumble bee (Bombus
melanopygus), filled the space around me. 
The western buttercups that gave the island its name
were dominant, a yellow canvas dotted with the blue of camas and the bronzed
tones of Chocolate lily. It was abundantly clear to me what a miracle was right
before me: the collaboration of native flowers and native pollinators. 
I was listening to the sound of life—one
that has been threatened nearly to extinction in many other places. It brought
forth a favorite quote by one of my
heroes, John Muir: “Everybody needs
beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal
and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.”
The western buttercups that gave the island its name
were dominant, a yellow canvas dotted with the blue of camas and the bronzed
tones of Chocolate lily. It was abundantly clear to me what a miracle was right
before me: the collaboration of native flowers and native pollinators. 
I was listening to the sound of life—one
that has been threatened nearly to extinction in many other places. It brought
forth a favorite quote by one of my
heroes, John Muir: “Everybody needs
beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal
and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.”
Yellow Island is that kind of place. I give gratitude to all that conspired
to allow me a day to once again delight in its beauty. 
