140211_bangor_oil_spill_660Missing those Salish Blues in our clam chowder? Blame the Navy. As reported by KOMO News, http://www.komonews.com/news/local/Navy-Oil-spill-in-Hood-Canal-larger-than-first-estimated-245240911.html , the Navy lost control of about 2,000 gallons of oily waste last week,. The spill forced the Kitsap Public Heallh District to close the beaches for shellfish harvesting http://www.kitsapcountyhealth.com/environment/shellfish_advisories.php on February 12th as a precaution.

In the meantime the pub has been getting it’s clams from Western Washington ocean beaches…however, you will notice they are Manilas.

As soon as the Hood Canal closure is lifted we’ll get back to the lovely Salish Blues that Baywater Inc. has been growing and harvesting for the pub’s now famous chowder and steamers.

The Kitsap Community & Agriculture Alliance (KCAA) invites you to participate in a special West Sound Agritourism Workshop, an event to initiate the Kitsap Peninsula as a destination to West Sound small farm, nature and other outdoor activities. KCAA believes small farms & gardens, nature & environmental groups, lodging facilities (including Bed & Breakfasts), and other value added producers would benefit greatly from sponsorship and participation in this event.

When: February 22nd, 2014 from 8:30am – 4:00pm (Lunch provided)

Where: Bremerton Boys & Girls Club (3102 Wheaton Way, Bremerton, WA 98310)

$25 General Admission
$20 KCAA Members (Special code sent to members via email – contact KCAA for more info)
$10 for Students & Interns – must enter Intern/Student at check out for special pricing. Please bring student ID/Verification to workshop.
Tickets can be purchased by visiting: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/559822

Please contact us at kcaa4u@yahoo.com with questions or for more information. Event agenda and poster below:

By Christine St.Pierre – The hinges squeak on the coffee house door and I shift my gaze toward the entryway with the rest of the Pegasus staff, programmed to greet the sound as another customer shuffles in from the cold. From behind the counter, I greet the newcomer with a smile and ask, sincerely, “How are you?” Too often, the person is shocked by the authenticity in my tone; they’ll raise their brow, tilt their heads, pause to think, and, with a sigh, say something to the effect of, “I’m well, but [insert personal detail here].” Step one in making a new friend: care.

Step two: remember. The next time they walk in through those squeaky front doors, I’ll ask, “How did it go with [restate personal details from last conversation here]?” And so it begins; a relationship that had the dreary potential of being a simple exchange of money and coffee becomes something more. This is how I met most of the folks on the island with whom I’m building strong friendships—young or old, male or female. I realized that this little community wants to let you in, so I found an opening and slipped on through.

The final step: memorize their drink orders. Do this and you’re in forever. No foam. Soft-boiled eggs. Add an inch of water. Tie the tea bag. Whole wheat, a little burned. Split-shot quad-shot extra dry soy cappuccino with a splash of vanilla and sugar in the raw. Extra hot, please!

Working these shifts is the equivalent of hanging out with friends in my kitchen. Regulars get their drinks and sit at the bar. We begin chatting, and more of them file in, greeting each other and catching up. They leave together in small groups, probably off to a job or farm or hike or musical endeavor, and I feel all warm inside knowing I’ll see them the next morning—same place, same time, same drink.

Since this friendship journey began, I’ve been to some really cool places with some really cool people. The Grand Forest, for example, has a beautiful field at the end of a series of trails that is perfect for cloud gazing, singing songs, and sunset yoga. Once, on my way to this field, I ran into a Pegasus friend who was heading into the forest to gather stinging nettle with a group of plant-loving locals. Later, we crossed paths again, and they graciously shared stinging nettle pesto and soup with me. As the clouds parted, we stood in a circle and dined on the foraged nutrition, photosynthesizing while we discussed our appreciation of the forest.

Of course, there are less happenstance ways to form bonds and experience the island, like attending the open mic (Tuesday) or open jam (Thursday) nights at Pegasus. If, like me, you’re not a trained musician, bring your poetry on Tuesdays and slam it out! Or, if, like me, you love to sing, bring your voice on Thursdays; Larry, a regular jammer and real sweetheart, has an extensive catalogue of folk, blues, and bluegrass songs that are easy to learn, and he would love to add to the queue if you’ve got something in mind. The Bainbridge Brewery also offers live music on Wednesday evenings, which makes for a wonderful transition from climbing at the Island Rock Gym just across the Coppertops parking lot.

Not long ago, I began my life on the island attending events like these by myself, enjoying the culture while watching the community interact from a distance. Now, I’m in it, and all it took was a little coffee.

By Christine St.Pierre – Downtown Seattle seemed to vibrate, its lights pulsating with electricity. Standing on the balcony, I watched the city grow dim and disappear as the ferry slipped into the thick fog surrounding Bainbridge Island. Moonlight illuminated the small landmass before me, its ridge jagged from the treetops of giant evergreens. Small houses dotted the shoreline with kayaks and beach chairs along the water’s edge. The ferry’s engines turned off, and we coasted into the harbor.

Slowly, I inhaled through my nose; the smell of seawater, kelp, and dense forest flooded my senses. A calm overcame me. Leaving the sleepless bustle of Seattle behind, the island immediately offered a tranquil escape. The moonlight lit my path as I walked to my new home from the ferry station. Sleepy, eclectic storefronts boasted of a lively community, and I was eager to discover what the sunlight would bring the next morning.

I awoke in a beautiful cabin home with a wall of windows that overlooked a yard decorated with large ferns and old growth trees. The other interns living in the house slowly filed into the kitchen to boil water for their morning tea, and we elaborated on what drew us to the island for an internship at YES! Magazine. Writers, activists, and lovers of the outdoors, each of us was eager to plant roots in the island’s various organic farming, music, art, and writing circles. So began the fun part: finding them.

Our home in the southeastern corner of the island is a short bike ride away from downtown Winslow, the community hub that welcomes the flow of ferry passengers as they disembark from the terminal. All day, people wander in and out of the assortment of local businesses that line the streets, greeting each other by first name. The general aesthetic and attitude is that of humility, genuine happiness, and an appreciation for their shared island home. Even the sun seems to shine more often here.

I had heard rumors of the island being a desert of twenty and thirty-something folks, but immediately I caught glimpses of them everywhere, grabbing lunch at the Town & Country grocer, sipping coffee, or driving trucks filled with crates of locally grown produce along Winslow streets. They exist amongst the families and tourists, a rare species that can be seen anywhere at any time. The tricky part is actually getting to know someone. From there, it’s a domino effect. I landed a job at Pegasus Coffee House, which filtered me directly into a scene composed of sailors, famers, artists, writers, musicians, yogis, locals, transplants, and everything in between. Quickly, I became acquainted with a handful of locals and began my transition into island life.

My adventure to Bainbridge Island originated as a career opportunity, one that would come and go, offering professional skills and connections that would lead me into a future in editing. Upon arriving, though, I sensed that I would weave myself into the conscious community before me—one that I had unsuccessfully searched for in Seattle—and remain for much longer than planned.

I was right. Over time, this island would become my home.

marketing-to-millennials-in-20141Every generation puts its stamp on the American Dream, states Dan Kadlec unequivocally, in his piece Millennials Put Their Surprising Stamp on the American Dream | TIME.com http://business.time.com/2014/02/06/millennials-put-their-surprising-stamp-on-the-american-dream/#ixzz2sgsrimnE

But the current batch of 20-somethings, sometimes called the Millennials,  have failed to overtly stamp Bainbridge Island… it would seem.

When you look at demographic data for the island-city there is one generation most notably absent… those born between the years of 1983 and 1994. Look around you next time you are at the movies, on the ferry, in a restaurant – other than the waitstaff, where are the Millennials? Sure, around the holidays you may see them passing through our quaint streets, but where are they and what are they doing the rest of the time?

That is the assignment I have posed to anyone interested in sharing.

Christine St.Pierre, who has come to us by way of the Yes! magazine intern program, has taken up the challenge and you can see her first two posts in this blog.

For the rest rest of you, where are you and what are you doing… on Bainbridge Island?