Last Sunday, Bryan and I gave a presentation about our sailing dreams to some from our church community. Many of our friends showed some interest in this long-neglected blog and, as I'd been intending (for several months now) to write up some stories from our latest trip, I figured I shouldn't ignore this motivation.

Last you heard, we'd launched the new dinghy (see below for pics if you're just arriving). We'd struggled to figure out how to best orchestrate our trip, (from Olympia up to Canada and down the coast of Washington to the Columbia) so that we didn't end up with our boat in St. Helens and our car still in Olympia. We love riding the train, so one-way tickets to Olympia were an easy choice, but we had more gear to load than we could take on the train (including the new dinghy!) Bryan took Split Pea and all our gear to LiLo, remembered (barely!) that he needed to bring back the old dinghy and spent the next few hours problem solving. Li'l Lo, our old dinghy, was so heavy that the 4 of us could barely carry it a few yards down the beach and somehow he needed to get it, by himself, up the ramp at low tide. He rowed around to the public dock in Olympia, which sports a more gently sloped ramp than our marina, heaved it up onto the ramp rails and pushedlikecrazy to get it up to the top, where some onlookers finally took pity on him and helped balance Li'l Lo in a dock cart all the way to the truck in the neighboring parking lot.

He returned to join the rest of us at my parents' for the Canby General Days July 4 celebration (back by popular demand...and yes, I mean demand. We were on the boat one year for the Fourth and I don't think they girls will ever let us forget it.) It's all about the parade-candy collecting!

 The next morning, Mom and Dad took us up to the Oregon City train "station" (what a cute little whistle stop!) and saw us off.






We enjoyed breakfast in the bistro car and general relaxing and goofiness

until our arrival in Lacey.

We gathered up all of our stuff, caught the bus to Olympia, walked the 8 or so blocks to the boat where we realized the fatal flaw in our heretofore perfectly executed plan.

Now every time we go to the boat, we make one last run for gas and groceries before we leave town. We can't get gas until we're there, obviously, because the fuel tanks are on the boat. And it's usually easier to pick up our cold foods there then pack them all the way up I-5 in a cooler. Except this time, we'd gone to great lengths to get to Olympia without a car, forgetting that when we got there, we, well, wouldn't have a car.

Bryan bummed a ride to the gas station from friendly dock neighbors while I put away what we'd brought and calculated meals from pantry items...yes, plenty to make it to Port Townsend, where the grocery store is more conveniently located for forgetful boaters like us.

Finally on our way, we pushed out into Budd Inlet in unusually strong winds. We often have to motor in the South Puget Sound, but today was a pleasant surprise, sailing in 15-20 kts. The sea took the vacation's only casualty though, my favorite red hat from last year's Stuart Island stop. (Please don't mention it; I'm still in mourning and kicking myself.)

We spent the first two nights at old favorites, Joemma Beach State Park and Blake Island, trying to enjoy our time without thinking ahead to the trip too much. It's easy to turn the first and last few days of any trip into a push to get there, get there, get there and forget to enjoy every moment along the journey. I'm getting better at this, but I admit it was a bit hard to simultaneously look forward to the San Juans and Canada, fight off end-of-trip-ocean-going fears, and savor what may be our last trip for many years in these familiar waters.

A friend of mine often posts series pictures and it's fun to see things change--or stay the same--over the years. When I saw these pictures from this year's trip to Friday Harbor pop up in my camera, I couldn't help but see the possibilities. With childhood's perfect memory (perfect, that is, about "my turn" and "last time" and "but Mom, you said." Not so perfect when it comes to "what did you ask me to do again?"), the girls requested portraits on the opposite totem from last year's trip. Here's a fun comparison--Enjoy!

Meira-2008
Hannah-2009
Hannah-2008
Meira-2009

The Launch!

I'm beginning to go through photos from our latest trip (those of you who do this immediately upon your arrival at home--or better yet, while still on vacation--can feel quite superior to me at this point) and don't want to miss the chance to tell you about an exciting event that occurred the day before we left.


Bryan had decided to take our gear and the new dinghy to LiLo and then drive back to meet us at my parent's house. The plan was to celebrate July 4 with them and then take the train back to Olympia so we didn't end up with a stray car there at the end of the trip when we brought LiLo to the Columbia. But before we took the dinghy up, we had to launch and christen her!

The girls always wear their lifejackets on the docks so we had brought theirs home, but Bryan and I had left ours on the boat. As we were trying to figure out who might have some we could borrow, we had to laugh at ourselves. "Let's see...who would be the most likely people we know to have lifejackets?" "Um, that would be...us." But N&A came to our rescue and we picked up their pfds and drove out to Hagg Lake.


We put the dinghy together by the truck and then carried her about 50 yards down to the water. This would have been an impossible distance to carry our old dinghy; already we were in love with the new one! We posed for the obligatory pictures and slid her down the bank into the water.


Everybody got a turn to row around a bit...



...and then we made up our own christening ceremony. She is now officially Split Pea!



We got a few funny looks when Bryan took her apart in the water to see how well that worked (very, as it turned out.) Don't forget to tie off both halves before trying this trick!

More to come from the trip...at some point.

Sunday Morning

Sitting at the piano this morning during our corporate gathering, completing the ring of worshipers in our sanctuary circle, the presence of several hundred eternal souls called me to attend. This is my response:

Nature is precious
Sacramental as it is fleet
I worship in the mutable cathedral
of a singular moment

The body of Christ is precious
now and forever, wave and particle
We gather and wonder--
How much eternity can one space hold?

Mystery Watercolor Memories

You may have noticed that I am a photograppreciator, not an actual photographer like some people I could name. Over the years, this has resulted in a rather careless attitude toward cameras and the many gaps in camera ownership (and my complete inability to get film developed) have caused a back-up of disposable cameras and old film in our junk drawer. This week, I finally gathered up six rolls of something-or-other and took them in. "All I want is the negatives and the CD," I told the lady at the counter; I wasn't paying for prints of mystery pictures. "We'll be back in an hour."

While we waited, we went to the Farmer's Market and walked over to the library. When we thought we had whiled away enough time, we hopped back in the car and headed back to pick up the pictures. I flipped on the radio and was more than a little surprised to hear words like "severe thunderstorms" and "tornado." I had noticed the wind picking up, but thought we could manage to get our pics before heading home. As we were standing in line, the lights flickered through dim to dark and the very efficient--and shoplifting-aware--store employees quickly herded all the customers (many waving lit cell phones like lonely concert-goers) to the front of the store where they peremptorily booted us out into the growing storm. My brave girls were beginning to crumble in the face of so many strange events and the crazy "car-wash" rain. We were all relieved to pull out of the traffic into Lafayette and home where we spent a candlelit evening counting lightning/thunder seconds, singing the obligatory "Raindrops on Roses," and cuddling (my personal favorite when it comes to power-outage activities).

The power came on sometime in the night and, before I completely lost all momentum and left the photos languishing at the store forever, I ran back to pick them up. Some of the pictures are so old and so...just plain BAD, that we can't even tell who is pictured. (Anyone have a baby with this head shape?)

Using carbon dating methods (and adjacent pictures), we determined the approximate decade of each roll--oh my, there's baby Hannah! Some of the pictures make us wonder what we were thinking,


but others are real gems, bringing back many good memories of adventures long (LONG) past.

This roll, including the picture from the top of the post, are from our first year of sailing. Bryan and I brought Nissa into Portland for the weekend for our 9th anniversary (this summer will be 13!). There are many pictures of bridges, since we had to sail under each one, and a few pictures of relationship landmarks--mostly restaurants we can no longer afford. I remember the exhilaration of figuring out how to call for a bridge lift (the Steel Bridge's pedestrian span is too low for our mast) and the wonder of seeing a familiar city from a new perspective. Flush with freshly-minted boat ownership, I wanted to wear my fluorescent life jacket everywhere. We walked to Saturday Market (a first-date memory) and all the way over to Powells, where we bought too many books to carry back comfortably and a Portland Bridge T-shirt because it may be the only time we can ever truthfully say that we have "been there, done that, and bought the T-shirt." On the way back to our marina in St. Helens, we stopped a Cathedral Park to savor the last hours of vacation and the amazing architecture of the St. Johns Bridge (seen above).

Not all the pictures were ancient and I'll likely be posting some more (of both vintages) soon, but thanks for indulging me this meander down proverbial memory lane.

While riffling through old blog post drafts, I found these pictures from last year's San Juan trip. They are mostly from our visit to the Westcott Bay Sculpture Park at Roche Harbor (19 acres of verdant meadow, forest, and wetland dotted with sculptures of all varieties), but a few are from the next day on our way to Stuart Island. On the way there, our camera broke...so that was that. I'm posting these primarily for my own memory's sake; please feel free to ignore them.


This little fellow served as welcoming committee and curator.

These are not sculptures, but I love to look at them anyway. I think their Artist is amazing.

I loved these flashing birds, twirling in the breeze...

...and this abstract whirligig.

The gong was a family fave.

And I savored the wonder as I strolled down this slope to view the front of this piece of art. What could possibly be more beautiful than the freshly baled hay in the field behind it? When I finally reached the piece, I smiled. On the easel, the artist had simply placed a mirror.

These are the last two pictures our poor camera took (we now have a waterproof, shockproof, drop-proof model). I used to think that boats with line snaking everywhere and gear lashed to every stanchion were, well, just a bit unkempt. Now I just remind myself of the best compliment our well-loved boat ever got--"There's a boat that looks like she goes places!" It's true what they say, that you see the same sights no matter how fancy or humble your boat. I wished so hard our camera had held on for just one more shot, because as we rounded this point, Mt. Baker leapt out at us, bold and dazzling against the blue sea, blue sky. We may not always have proof, but we have seen some spectacular sights from this messy vessel of ours.

First Sail of the Season

Sheepishly, she realized that she had written the story in the last post once already. She hopes you will accept this overdue story as a peace offering.

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of...sailing? And apparently a young-ish woman's thoughts too. The nice weather the last few weeks hasn't hurt, but beyond that, our recent days have been littered with sailing-related gifts. A sale on anchors (at the same time we had the extra money to get one and the time to research which one we wanted. For those of you who care, we bought a Delta), a dodger on Craigslist, dinner with a delightful family who will be leaving this summer on their sailboat. We took a class at a local jeweler and made a pair of simple silver wedding rings so we don't lose a diamond (or a finger) while sailing. The girls and I started taking Spanish lessons from a friend (she's taking piano lessons from me--yay for bartering!) And we took our first sailing trip.

We had reserved Mother's Day weekend for a sailing trip some time ago, just hoping for good weather. And, though it was still cold enough at night to sleep in 4 layers and a hat, the daytime weather was perfection itself. We began with the obligatory trip to the Farmer's Market across the parking lot from the marina and followed it up with the traditional later-than-hoped-for sailing time.

After motoring up Budd inlet, we put up the new mainsail (another of the unexpected acquisitions of the winter) and the drifter, and sailed...very...slowly...past Boston Harbor. After an hour or so of fighting current and headwind, we decided to let the wind plan the destination and turned toward Hope Island. Sailing up to the mooring buoy always feels like an accomplishment. Dropping the boat hook overboard when the handle fell off quickly reminded us not to feel too sure of ourselves. We pulled around again and Bryan leaned over the side to retrieve the hook (still hanging from the mooring buoy ring), and it broke in two. We finally got a stern line through the ring and pulled the boat around by hand to hook up properly, bow first.

That's when Bryan realized...we had no oars! We always leave our oars on the boat, but we'd brought them home after the last trip to fit them on the new dinghy and now we had no way to get to shore. After a brief family conference, we all agreed to motor on over to Jarrell Cove State Park, where we could stay at a dock.

We pulled in to the Cove about 8:30 and found a spot at the inner state park float. We were a little concerned that the -2 tide on Saturday would not leave us with quite enough water under the keel, but the bottom was muddy so even if we did touch for a few minutes at low tide (we didn't) it wouldn't hurt anything.

Saturday, we enjoyed getting to know the neighbors, who laughed with us at our forgetfulness and offered to loan us their paddles so the girls could dinghy around the lagoon. We tied the dinghy to the anchor rode so we could reel them back in if necessary and tied the borrowed paddles to the dinghy. But after a few minutes of awkwardness, and several near misses (we discovered that shifting one girl to the stern seat greatly reduced the chances of paddle handle meeting sister's face), we cut them loose. Each year, they shock me with their independence.

Watching them intuit how to work together to steer and row efficiently settled any concerns I may have had about the ability of kids to learn teamwork without organized sports.
Often, we spend a portion of each vacation day traveling from one place to another. So we weren't too disappointed to see, on our way to Jarrell Cove, that Joemma Beach didn't have their docks out yet. It was so relaxing to spend the whole day at Jarrell Cove, hiking, chatting with the camp hosts, cooking (and eating!), reading, playing games, watching the Purple Martins commandeer our mast, and fiddling with my Mother's Day gift...a new telescope.

Sunday, we moseyed back to Olympia, packed up, snagged some sushi at our favorite local sushi spot and were home by bedtime. Despite the laughable glitches, this weekend satisfied our need for some peaceful relaxation and deeply gratifying time with our family.

Our family motto (apparently) is "A place for everything and everything all over the place." We're having too much fun living life to stop to clean it. It doesn't help that we homeschool, so we're home a lot! I have finally begun to give myself grace for these tendencies, especially after figuring out that my messy housekeeping wasn't going to rub off on my girls any more than my Mom's good housekeeping rubbed off on me.
It all came together in my mind, though, the day I caught myself lecturing my girls about cleaning as they go. "Someday," I said, "you will learn to clean up as you go along and it will be so much easier for you. Someday..." and here we moved slightly to take in the full view of the terribly messy kitchen from which had come many delicious meals without a single clean-up spree--"...someday you may learn this. But if you do, it WON'T BE FROM ME!"

Delightful Falafel

No pictures of tonight's special--falafel. We ate it up too fast. But I am happy to have found another great boat meal. One that is healthy, reasonably well-balanced and made from ingredients that we can easily store long-term.

I can't link to the recipe either because I looked at 4 or 5 and then did my own thing. That's another plus for for boat meals, as we only have space for a couple of cookbooks.
But since we joined the CSA a few years ago, I've gotten more and more comfortable with making meals without a recipe; even baking like Grandma, with a pinch of this and a handful of that until everything looks right.

Now if I can only figure out how to make artisan bread in a propane oven!

Bryan is on his way home from a very good trip to the boat. He changed the spark plugs (and the engine fired right up--yay!), fitted the new sail (and it fits--yay!), and fixed the wobbly faucet. The leaks we sealed last time aren't dripping. And the girls and I enjoyed a low-key couple of days on our own. All in all, a low-cost, high-success weekend.

Tonight's Specials

Tonight, blessed with a little extra energy--from whence, I know not, since I have a cold and worked hard all day--and a lot of extra vegetables, I cooked. Boy howdy, did I cook. I made a roasted vegetable gratin with 4 different root veggies and a some greens and sausage with 3 different kinds of greens. Did you catch that? Seven kinds of vegetables in one meal. I think that's a Lee family record. Oh, and somewhere in the middle of all the pot juggling, I managed to whip up some biscuits with some fresh whole-wheat flour from the new (to-me) grain mill I was given yesterday. And (here anyone who knows me will begin to doubt my story) I even washed the dishes after dinner. (must have been all this melted gruyere. Mmmm, melty cheese)

Of course, I would be in bed currently if it wasn't for this little "Lost" addiction at my house. We may need an intervention.

Bryan's heading up to the boat tomorrow evening and planning to try working from the boat on Friday. If all goes well, the girls and I will join him in a few weeks for a family attempt at a normal day aboard with school and work and little girl energy all pressurized into 200 square feet. We may need more melty cheese.

Listen

If you stopped by my house this month, you might have heard...

A Mama tirade dissolving into laughter:
"SOMEDAY! YOU! WILL! LEARN! To pick up as you go and then you won't have to do such a hard job all at once." (at this point, I realized my ridiculousness and we all stepped over to the kitchen, which was--OK is--piled high with dirty dishes) "Someday you will learn this. But when you do, it won't be from me!"

An attempt at comfort dissolving into laughter:
"Great-Grandma's sick, I already hurt my shoulder and now I twisted my ankle. This is the LAST THING I need this week."
"No, Mama, the last thing you need is to twist the other one too."

Well-intentioned pronunciation dissolving into...private snickers:
"This horse looks just like the one in The Black Stallion, so I will call mine Satan (pronounced "Seh-TAN") after him."
(And that's how we ended up with a children's choir notebook decorated carefully with a horse and clearly labeled, "Satan.")

Laughter most days, rarely tears. Constant chatter with music beneath. A teapot's whistle, a fat cat purring. This is the soundtrack of life right now.

Winter Peace

I do know my blog still exists, but an update is beyond me at this point. Today, I wrote to a friend and will just quote myself here in lieu of a real post.

"We loved getting snowed in for a couple of weeks before Christmas. With family in walking distance, we staved off cabin fever and pooled our pantries for meals. It was a blessed time of rest and a reminder of true things: family, quiet strength, God's gifts to us.

January has brought the beautiful experience of being present with my dad as his mom went home to heaven and an extra portion of patience as I heal from a shoulder injury. If I sound like I'm sugar-coating these events, I'm not...but only by God's grace have I been able to accept them as true gifts. Though I'm getting a cold today and I want to stomp my foot and refuse.

I've also been experimenting with new art forms and new ways to pray. And I'm inspired by the Emily Dickinson quote, 'To live is so startling that it leaves little time for anything else.'"

And then, just for fun...
My "25 random things" list from Facebook...in case you don't go there.

1. My favorite shape is a spiral

2. I hate rogue spray nozzles in my shower head and scrape at them until they behave

3. I'm fascinated. About everything

4. I carry emergency tea the way some women carry lipstick

5. and a book...because you never know

6. and a pen/paper...same reason

7. I hate water on my face (see #2)

8. My glass is half full; can I share some with you?

9. Boot-cut pants!

10. I feel anxious about forgetting breath-taking poetry and delight in finding it in used book stores

11. I have been mocked for my favorite color...white

12. I bake something for breakfast almost every morning (on a mission to prove that woman may just be able to live on bread alone)

13. I ogle old women with long hair in hopes of figuring out how to be one of the elegant ones

14. I'm less than 9 months older than my brother

15. I think lamps, shoes and replacement razor blades are overpriced

16. I love to wield a broom and hate the noise of a vacuum cleaner, but my house has wall-to-wall carpeting

17. I have a glass dip pen for fancies, but keep a box of black uniball micro points on hand at all times for everyday--they're know 'round these here parts as "trusty pens"

18. If I hadn't gotten contacts when I was 8, I would have gone blind by my teens

19. I own a pair of blue suede shoes (not overpriced)

20. I smile back at characters on TV

21. I love linen with crisp edges (but I hate setting up the ironing board. Not ironing, just setting up the board)

22. My favorite scents are citrus and apple, lavender gives me a headache and vanilla makes me hungry

23. I wear my great-aunt's black leather gloves in the winter to think of her

24. Fall is my reward for making it through hot summer days

25. I want to live on a small sailboat and in a large intentional community, though not at the same time


I hope you're finding peace in the winter stillness.

Three Christmas Tree Tales

Well, 2 tree tales and some pictures of the other one.

When we lived in Alaska and money was so tight, I was over-the-moon grateful for a woman who stopped by every month or so on her way to the food bank. She volunteered to pick up slightly outdated Nabisco products and deliver them to the food bank at our church. We only had one car, and that made getting to the food bank during business hours almost impossible. So every few weeks, this woman showed up on my doorstep with a few boxes of cookies or crackers. It probably didn't seem like much to her. But during that time, we had guests at the house several times a week, sometimes large groups of young adults coming for a small group meeting or just dropping by (we came home one day to find that friends had disarmed our four-legged security system and rearranged our living room for maximum movie viewing pleasure...both couches turned and one blocked up to create stadium seating) and the ability to offer them a little bit of tangible hospitality made me feel rich, blessed to both receive and to give. We always had enough. Just when we were running low, a new shipment would arrive. In those years, God's grace came in an Oreo package.

One November we were given a case of Barnum's Animal Crackers. A case. (You know, the ones in the little red boxes.) We had left all our Christmas decorations here when we moved and my family was coming for the holidays. We cut a Charlie Brown tree from the Chugach National Forest (yes, legally), splurged on a string of lights and hung candy canes and animal cookies all over that most beautiful of trees. By the end of the holiday, the branches could barely hold their own weight, but my brother helpfully extracted the contents of the boxes and hung the empties back on the tree.


A couple of years later, we planned to come to Oregon for Christmas, but a few days after Thanksgiving, we got the shattering news that Bryan's dad had died that day. Bryan caught the next flight out and I followed with Hannah a few days later. If you've been through anything similar, you can imagine the aftermath, yup, lots of tears and numb/heart-wrenching days. A few days before Christmas, we had to go back. After Dad died, the cheapest way for Bryan to get to Oregon had been to buy a new one-way ticket. He had planned to fly back on the other end of the round-trip we already had purchased. But apparently, when you don't fly the first leg, they cancel your reservation for the return flight (now you tell me). Even after we explained the circumstances the airline was, shall we say, less than helpful. So we scrambled a bit and found a friend who had come down to buy a used car and was driving it back. Bryan was welcome to share the drive.

I flew home without him, pregnant and with child (both--Hannah was just 13 months and I was about halfway along with Meira). The hope was that he would be able to get across all the borders with limited proof of insurance and registration and make through the snow up the Al-Can in time for Christmas. I can't tell you how thankful I was for the friends who met me at the airport, helped to wrangle the bags, the car seats and me into someone's vehicle and home to my empty house. These same friends had spent most of the afternoon setting up a tree, lights and ornaments from who-knows-where illuminating my living room and my dreary spirit.

Bryan did make it home in time for Christmas, such as it was. And the story of digging out of that dark time is full of the grace of God in the face of others (some of them those sneaky elves).

This year our tree is a lot less memorable, (although it's the first year the girls did all the decorating without necessitating major ornament relocation after bedtime). But my heart is no less grateful. And God's grace still shows up in unexpected packaging.


That's my Christmas story this year. What's yours?

Fall Gratefulness

I had a great idea for a catch-up post...you know, just in case anyone's still checking this site. It was going to tie up the activities of the last month into a witty, concise little package and remind my myriad readers how creative and erudite I can be. But alas, it was a middle-of-the-night epiphany and you all know how long those stick around. You'll have to make do with this...

You'd think with the month I've had, I would have taken the time to write. We haven't been busy, just falling easily into our fall routines. But I've been savoring the space and trying to keep everything but the absolute essentials at bay. This last week has been a little busier, but so full of delightful happenings, I had to take the time to record my gratefulness.

I'm still oozing thankfulness for the opportunity to spend the weekend out at Twin Rocks with a really great group of eighth graders. I led worship for the Samuel School retreat and was reminded how much I adore this age group. They were so thoughtful...and playful (I still have rug burns from being unexpectedly included in rec). They are such mixtures of child and adult, of serious and silly. And though they may have seen me as much older, we are not so very different.

We also went to the beach as a family this month...just for the day, but what a spectacular day it was! No more words about that, just these images.

Plans for a new dinghy just showed up and Bryan is like a kid at Christmas without the batteries for his new toys. He's picking up wood tonight and then I'll need to drag some cushions out to the garage steps so I can hang out with my boat-buildin' man. We're all excited, as we're quickly outgrowing our current dinghy. The new one will be 11 feet long, but is a nesting dinghy which breaks into 2 pieces and nests together so it will more easily carry all of us and our gear, but won't be too difficult to lift onto the deck. Each end of it floats, so you can stand in the stern and pop off the bow for the transfer. How nice to have a winter project to while away free weekends.

On the bread-baking front, I've been on a ciabatta kick, trying out different recipes and techniques. Oh, and indiscriminately eating the results. And I just found out I get to be one of the crowd of recipe testers for Peter Rienhart's new cookbook. I'm ecstatic, but no, I don't need any more taste-testers, thanks for offering.


I'm glad that it's candle season, and I've been intentionally taking every opportunity to add flickering points of light to my rooms. I've even tried reading by oil lantern so as not to wake Bryan with the big light. (It doesn't work very well, but I can manage for as long as it takes to read an entry from my favorite book of prayers, something I've been using again recently). The dining room table is set with fall colors and I hung my purple sari over the back door. Scarves and hats are out, and gloves are tucked into jacket pockets for impromptu excursions. Can you tell I love fall?

I'm grateful for school this year. Here we are on the first day...

Here's a more typical day...

We have worked hard in past years to develop some independent study skills, efficiency about chores, and cheerful attitudes toward learning. Superstition says I shouldn't jinx myself, but I think it's too easy to complain about the hard times and not rejoice in the good ones. This is a good time. Not perfect, but very, very good.

We've been experimenting with radish seeds recently, since they are supposed to sprout in one day (they don't, but they're supposed to). The girls are fascinated--OK, so am I--with the idea that all our energy comes from the sun and the color green. Each plant that, one way or another, provides all I consume, is rooted in the soil of its ancestors and drinks strength from light. Would you remind me of this if I start to feel anxious or deprived in these unsettling times?

Tuesday, the girls and I went on an extended food pick-up. Tuesdays are always vegetable days, but this week, we stopped for milk and eggs and left with demi-glace too (chicken AND beef), a gift from farmer friends to season our soup season. Then it was off to another friend's farm in the foothills to raid the apple trees for the last of the fall apples. The air was cool and still, the light golden as we worked together (not very hard) to gather baskets, heaps of abundance. The car smelled spicy and delicious as we drove to retrieve our CSA share (which included, among other treasures, an almost 3 lb. beet!). Gratefulness overwhelmed me as I rolled home in my cornucopia on wheels. We have been given so much; I never want to take it for granted.

Can you see in my face my hope for this season?
Even as the light outside fades, I will choose contentment and drink deeply from the true Light.

Hey! Try This! It's FREE!

This morning I woke, as I'm sure so many in America did, with thoughts of a different September 11. Though I was relatively unaffected by the events of that tragic day, I can't help but think of those with greater losses, those who don't have the luxury of simply marking an anniversary. For some, every day brings reminders of those terrible events. I'm thinking of them today.

I wondered if it was time to talk to the girls about this part of America's history. We have been tackling some difficult subjects over the past few years, touching on racism and the Holocaust in age-appropriate ways. And we have read this great book about Philippe Petit and his walk between the towers. My hope is that it will lay a foundation of hope for a future discussion. But since I am not forced, like so many were those first few days, to explain the unimaginable to my little ones, I am choosing to wait until they can see beyond the fear to the facts.

The girls were so small that day, seven years ago. But I remember reading advice for how to contextualize these events for children. Instead of focusing on the evil or the tragedy, psychologists said, encourage your children to look for hope in the heroes. From the rescue workers who ran toward the falling buildings, to those who hosted waylaid commuters until they could find their way home, there are good people all around. I found this advice to be helpful for me too as I tried to process this enormous event. Most of the citizens in our country, myself included, had been remarkably sheltered from this kind of traumatic event (goodness knows much of the rest of the world could one-up us if they tried), and it helped to focus on the ways communities came together instead of trying to comprehend the mindset it took to wage this terror. And I loved seeing how those impulses for good were multiplied in my own life and the lives of those around me.

In the last few weeks, I have heard several pleas to sign up with the National Bone Marrow Donor Registry. No one in my family has ever needed a marrow transplant, but it didn't take much imagination to picture how desperately I would want to find a match for them if they became ill. And when I heard how easy it is both to register (a cheek swab is usually all that's required) and to donate (often almost as simple as blood donation with all expenses paid), I was ready to jump onboard. But I kept putting it off because of the small fee required to evaluate my sample. Today, I called to see if there were any sponsored drives in my area and it turns out that Nascar is sponsoring anyone who signs up, um, through October I think. I don't care about the deadline, because I already signed up. And you shouldn't care either, because you should stop right now (I know you're online already) and spend the 10 minutes it takes to sign your little self up. (The link for the Nascar drive is on the lower right-hand corner of the main page, but I'm sure they'd still use your money if you have some extra lying around.) You may not be up for running into a burning building, but you could save someone's life all the same.

We interrupt this previously scheduled vacation recap to bring you...

THIS SHAMELESS PROMOTION!

Learn how to make Artisan Bread with Bethany Lee Saturday, September 13, 2-5pm Hands-on class: Learn to mix, knead, shape and bake artisan breads, and enjoy sampling several kinds of bread. Take home a breadbaking tool (included) and the confidence to make great artisinal breads at home. Seats are still available.

Kookoolan Farms
15713 Highway 47, Yamhill, Oregon 97148
on the web www.kookoolanfarms.com
email kookoolan@gmail.com
Phone (503) 730-7535

Yes, I'll be teaching another bread-baking class this weekend and I'd love to see some friendly faces. Maybe yours could be one!