These are a few of my favorite things…

What is not my favorite thing? Being in the car with my almost two-year-old for any extended amount of time. But the crying, the screaming, the throwing things (mostly her, maybe a little bit me), was all worth it in the end. I was excited about this one. A super short little trail zigs up a for hot minute to Red Top Lookout and some spectacular Teanaway scenery. I had high hopes that Evie might even walk herself all the way to the top. She didn’t, but she walked about halfway up the steep trail and I was super proud when she said “backpack, backpack” for the first time, as in, “put me in the backpack and give me a snack now before I have a meltdown.” We put her in the pack, gave her a snack, and she was happy.

First built in 1952, Red Top lookout stands watch at roughly 5400 feet. It was restored in 1997 and is kept up by wonderful volunteers, making it one of the best kept lookouts I’ve been to. Some volunteers were there for the weekend and opened it up for us to peek inside. The two young men, swimming in their green Forest Service vests, described themselves as “lookout junkies.” A fuzzy blond dog was curled up on the cot as we swapped lookout stories.

After taking in the views of Mount Stuart, Rainier, and evens Adams, we continued on to go rock hunting. I thought this was the appropriate description until we reached the agate beds complete with a sign board listing rules and tips. It is actually called “rock hounding” according to the board. I was so excited, especially now that I knew what it actually called! I already felt like a pro. The instructions asked rock hounds to refill any digging holes and recommended using the “15 minute rule” to prevent harvesting too many rocks to carry back with you. It suggests holding the rock in your hand for 15 minutes and then looking at it again. If you love it, keep it. If you’re not sure carry it another 15 minutes. It then reads, “by this point, you should be pretty sure this is a rock you want to keep. If not, toss it back.” I love this rule.

Some folks passed us carrying shovels, grates, and hammers. “Going rock hunting?” I asked. Rookie mistake, surely true rock hounds don’t call it “rock hunting.” They entertained my question with a vague answer and I mentioned we were looking ourselves, we just don’t know what we’re looking for. My husband and I exchanged a glance with an awkward chuckle, hoping they would offer us a little advice. They didn’t. We made note of their gear to bring next time.

We picked around in the rocks looking for anything unusual or shiny. We were banking on beginners luck and Evie is really good at picking rocks. She picked them up and shoved them in my face saying, “ock, ock” until I looked at her and gave her my full attention, saying, “oh yes, that’s a nice rock.” Then she would point to more rocks and say, “nice ock.” Unfortunately, she didn’t find anything unusual or shiny.

We found a big hole that was already dug and decided that the mother load was once found there. We sat down and settled in, Evie between my legs babbling and picking away. We dug for awhile and were getting ready to move along when my husband found something interesting. I remembered reading something in the guide book about rare Ellensburg blue agate and thunder eggs being found here. We remembered that the sign board gave a hint: crystals are shiny and agates are translucent. This little nugget was blue and translucent. NO WAY! I yelled and then promptly dug in the same spot for more. We found a few more translucent white agates. They were tiny and mottled in muddy clay. I had to spit on them to see any color, but I was over the moon. We found something, maybe even some rare blue agate! We were officially rock hounds!

I could have stayed there looking all day and I think Evie could have too. But the blue skies had been slowly clouding up, the wind cooling with a fall crisp. We headed back to the car with our loot, just a pocket full or two of rocks. Later that night at home, I rinsed the rocks in the kitchen sink. The smell of earth released from the rocks overwhelmed my senses, I felt like I could taste it. Then in the shower, the same smell came from my hands. I breathed it in, the mountain colliding with my home, everything connected. I felt whole.

We took the long way home from Red Top. As Evie slept, we took a side road to explore the old ghost town of Liberty. We drove through the farm fields and small towns of the Cascade foothills. We found a pumpkin patch just after Evie woke from her nap.

We let Evie roam free in the pumpkin field as we each chose our favorites. My husband chose a large one, perfect for a classic moonshine face, I chose a smaller pastel orange one reminiscent of Cinderella’s carriage and we chose a little green one for Evie, one she pointed at a few times and we took as a the chosen one. However, we soon realized that she pointed at ALL of the pumpkins.

It wasn’t a perfect day. I’m fully convinced that any day with a toddler could never be bestowed with such a word. But it was a great day and an undeniably fall one. The very best kind: one full of my favorite things and my favorite people.