By: Judith Ryan
judith@kingston.life

My Kingston life began with a high-wire act in 1978.

As a single mother without a job, moving here from Seattle was like letting go of a trapeze bar, trusting another sturdy perch would be there for me to catch. Faith, guts and a dream of “real” security pulled me across the void.

That vision of self-sufficiency called loudly to me in the late ’70s. It was spurred on by gas shortages and social turmoil that generated a sense of uncertainty. The hippie, back-to-the earth movement hung in the air.

Three months before my graduation from the University of Washington, my son Will found this ad: “Farmhouse on 10 acres with porch, barn, woods, fruit trees and outbuildings. Kingston WA.”

“On that acreage,” I thought, “we would have water, could grow our own food, have wood for fuel, and enjoy fruit for the picking.”

I went out to see the property and was immediately smitten. So many trees for the kids to climb, so much room to roam and explore. Nestled against the woods with a distant view east to the Cascades, this vintage 1902 house, beckoned. I signed the purchase contract that day. Amid final exams, I prepared to sell my house and move.

Backing out of our driveway, I turned around and looked at my three children, one cat, and a car crammed with boxes. It was a crowded trapeze. Although I felt the weight of responsibility, I was confident that I was providing a secure and beautiful environment for my kids. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I didn’t know what I didn’t know about the challenges I would face while living in the country.

The first morning in our new house, we awoke to find there was no water. The 15-foot well was no match for a leaking toilet, which I didn’t know about … because I also didn’t know about home inspections. The upside was that we got to know our neighbors quickly, as in, “Can we fill our water containers”? And, “Can I take a bath at your house”?  The outhouse, one of the outbuildings mentioned in the ad, was put into use.

One time I had to wash my daughter Elizabeth’s hair under a pouring rain spout. She screamed as the shock of cold water cascaded over her head, but then was rewarded with soft, clean hair. As our well slowly filled, we were uber-careful with the nectar of the gods. To this day, I cannot just let the water run when doing the dishes.

Four years of adventures and misadventures later, I returned to Seattle for the next three and a half decades. I had dual careers in photography and real estate, both of which were seeded in Kingston.

Noisy neighbors and heavy traffic drove me out of apartment living to seek solitude in a freestanding structure. While looking on Craigslist, my spirit leapt when a fairy tale house appeared in my search — two acres, front porch, side porch, deck, woods, garden boxes, garage, rolling lawn, and … it was … in Kingston!

The hook was in my mouth.

A month after my move back here, I went to visit a local organic provider. I drove down the familiar road, carefully looking for their place. My heart fluttered as I turned in. On the left side was my old house. The feelings that washed over me were from another time, and yet not — here I was awake but as in a dream. The past and the present melded. Everything in my life seemed ordained to bring me to that moment, to this house, to Kingston.

Life has been full of synchronicities since my return. That sense of coming full circle pervades my world.

I look forward to sharing with you the new delights I’ve found, as well as recounting memories of my earlier Kingston incarnation.

— Judith Ryan is a writer and photographer. Contact her through her blog at www.kingston.life or e-mail her at judith@kingston.life.