Danelions & berries

With thanks to Tracy, who took these pictures.

Solstice thoughts

Solstice is my favorite time of year. Some people think it's because it's the longest day of the year, but I approach winter solstice with the same reverence. It emphasizes the cyclical nature of the world, and what can I say, I'm all about cycles. The cycles of the sun, moon, plants, friendships, relationships, cravings, my own growth & insights. And just like Yeat's concept of the gyre, the fascination is in the complexity.

And this year, I'm totally caught up in it. I've been looking forward to it for days. I keep thinking about cycles, wondering where this particular curvature of our lives is going to take us. Jobs here, or abroad? Which of us will work and which will take care of the Bean? I wonder where my writing will take me in the next year and if I'll be able to develop the 16 ideas lurking in the forefront of my brain at the moment (now if I could just quit my compulsive cleaning and volunteer sh%$ maybe I could develop these into more than notes). And as I watch my little Bean sprout in front of me I wonder, as always what kind of person she'll become, but right now I'm mostly wondering what she'll do next.

You see, Lu has turned into a bona fide toddler. And it's a cliche in some ways. One morning Mike and I are sitting on the couch and she comes out of the kitchen to watch TV wearing her sunglasses and drinking from her bottle. She spins in circles . . . a lot. She carrys around a bucket filled with blocks, plays tug-o-war with the dog, runs outside any chance she can get, and has learned how to take her diaper off. I know I should probably be mourning her lost babyhood, but I'm eccstatic we've (mostly) moved past the playing in the toilet stage. As I've said before, for better or worse, I'm not the most sentimental mother.

I'm spending most of my day either laughing myself silly or exasperated as hell. I may shoot myself for saying this, 'cause I never thought I would, but I'm beginning to enjoy being a stay at home mom. And not for the obvious I-don't-have-to-work-or-do-anything-I-don't-want-to reasons. I'm excited about taking her to the library, starting swim lessons, going to the zoo and making animal sounds (and not having people look at me funny). Part of me misses work. I miss writing, creating, teaching, learning, and feeling like I'm contributing to the world and our bank account. But I guess I always assume I'll go back to work someday and then I can revisit that part of my identity.

I can't be all things at once. I've tried, it sucks. So for right now I get to indulge the mama/caretaker/healer/cook/gardener side of me that loves to nurture. It'll get saccarine sweet soon enough. But then I can get witty and cynical and selfish (besides, friends and collegues who read my writing tell me I'm funnier during that stage). I can feel the cycles in me best at this time of year. It tells me that even if I'm frustrated now, even if I feel stagnant, it will change. Things will balance out and right themselves again soon - it's all part of the cycle.

The green stuff

I'm a gardening nut. I love plants. It's hereditary - blame all the females in my family. My Papa claims that Nana is not happy unless she can go out and work in the yard almost every day. I still remember my mom waking me up at 6 a.m. on Saturdays (with difficulty) to help her move rocks, dig up bulbs, plant strawberry starts from last year. My college roomates thought I was nuts because I liked mowing the yard of our rented house, planting geraniums in pots on the patio, and trimming the front bushes. And I still vividly remember my great-granmother's garden, and the frogs that hid in the back.

Since moving to Reno, I've wanted to learn more about the Great Basin and its natural history - the names of mountain ranges, what plants and animals live here and where to find them at various times of year. When I finished school I finally had time to put some of that knowledge to use and I began to plant native flowers and bushes (or at least similar species) in our yard. The side benefit was that this made it easier to help Mike i.d. plants out at his field site. In spite of this, at the end of the season I would inevitably hear Mike joking in the kitchen, "So where's all my vegetables? Didn't you grow me anything I can eat?" (Have I mentioned how much Mike likes to razz me?)

Mike likes my plants, or at least he likes how happy they make me. But he's a practical and efficient guy. Growing things makes me happy. Eating makes him happy. Why not combine the two? Well, now that we're not both tromping through the Nevada desert for more than half the summer and relying on our neighbors to make sure that everything in our yard isn't brown and dead when we return, I thought we'd try it.

So, I coerced Mike into helping me out and here are the results.

In addition to the tomatoes I have in pots, we also have Hungarian peppers, jalapeno peppers, golden bell peppers, red cabbage, cucumbers, and gourds.

And here are the herbs I planted earlier in the year, and a few perennial herbs that came back in force. They've taken off! Last week I trimmed them back and the harvest was so huge I had a whole armful of oregano and thyme.

I figured I would share the surplus with the softabll team since several of them had said they would like some fresh herbs. But I forgot to bring the oregano and thyme to the game, so when we got to Bully's afterward for a drink I brought the bag in with me. By this time it was almost 10 p.m., and I guess I wasn't thinking because the looks I got from the waitress as I was handing out bags of green stuff were priceless.

You want proof, eh?

So, G., the consumate fisherman, wants concrete evidence of our fish. Well, here it is.



Not a record breaker but good eatin' nontheless. Hey, G - do you know if this is a brook trout? I haven't had a chance to look it up to verify yet.

Pure Bliss is . . .

going backpacking for the first time in three years

catching a fish and cooking it over a campfire


waking up, and glancing over the tops of pine trees to see a waterfall, lake, and sunrise-pink mountains covered with spots of snow

eating gorp for breakfast


feeling my leg muscles burn while my eyes marvel at the Sierra landscape

In case it's not obvious by now, I've missed backpacking. This last weekend Mike and I were able to get away for the weekend (thanks again N & P). We headed south along the eastern escarpment of the Sierra and parked at the Green Creek Trailhead south of Bridgeport. From there we headed into the Hoover Wilderness, which is located at the northeast edge of Yosemite National Park. The trail is fairly moderate, nothing epic, but is it ever gorgeous this time of year.

Due to my clumsiness, I tend to look at the ground a lot - I argue it's why I'm better at flowers than birds. The wildflowers were just getting started, but to name a few: columbine, lupine, asters, buckwheat & pussypaws, snowberry, serviceberry, wild iris, phlox, mules ears, and corn lilies. Mike is the bird man, of course. And thanks to him I also got to see a red-breasted sapsucker for the first time.

Mike is apparently on his way to becoming a fish man as well. He caught a nine-inch brook trout at Green Lake, where we camped the first night at the base of Gabbro Peak (second pic). It had the most beautiful translucent red fins! So of course I insisted we take pictures . . . before we roasted it over an open flame and ate it for dinner :)

The next morning we hiked up to East Lake. This lake is clear, cold, windy, and just fantastic. The campsites aren't as good but the spectacular view of Gabbro, Page, and Epidote Peaks on the west side of the lake was well worth the hike (Epidote is the third pic above).

The best part was remembering how good it feels to sleep outside, and to be up near tree line where I breathe easier and can't stop smiling (One of these days I'll figure out how to describe that feeling in a unique way and without sounding so romantic/cheesy.) Part of me might wonder if it's just the chance to have a break from motherhood, but I've always felt like this. And I've been in love with this stretch of the Sierras since Mike and I spent the summer of 2002 in Lone Pine while he surveyed snowy plovers at Owens Lake. Even when I was pregnant I craved the smell of dry granite and pine so badly I dreamed about it.

And then we drove home and went out for sushi. I'm telling you . . . pure bliss.

P.S. This one's for you M. babe. Maybe we should start a chain? Open one in Reno and spell it the right way. R. can be the nightly entertainment and T. can bartend. Whatcha think? :)