20,000 miles

"We need only travel
enough to give our
intellects an airing." ~~ Henry David Thoreau

The one bad thing about living in the country is the number of miles it takes to get anywhere. A few years ago, I maybe drove 2,000 miles a year. Living in a city let me bike and walk to work. Now that just isn't possible. I try to be conservative with my miles, the price of gas and wear-and-tear on the vehicle and environment. So it is amazing to me that in less than a year I have put this many miles on my car (though 3500 of them were on a road trip to Indiana to visit my sister and her adorable family). Luckily, I love my RAV4 and have a beautiful, not too congested, commute. This time of year it is particularly stunning. The contrast of the blue sky, white mountains, and green fields. Fields full of hundreds of goslings, dozens of Ibis and Snowy Egrets, and a few Pelican, Herons, and Cranes. We also get the migrating flocks of bluebirds and Oriels to add flitting color. With the surroundings the drive is either a meditative exercise or a chance to converse with my kids and both, to me, justify the time and expense.

Flowers

If the day and night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal, ... That is your success.~~ Henry David Thoreau



Flowers are my weakness. Living on a limited budget I have learned to pass by that beautiful pair of shoes and perfect outfit, learned to love to eat simple home cooked meals more than restaurant ones, learned to enjoy cuddling in front of a rented DVD instead of watching movies at the theater, but I haven't mastered the ability to pass by on flowers. My thousands of spring bulbs planted over 15 years is what I nostalgically miss about our now gone house. It will take time to get our current and larger yard to the point of floral beauty I imagine. Flowers are a tangible symbol of joy harboring visual, textural, and aromatic links as well as representative philosophical ones. Spring bulbs are especially symbolic to me. There are times when I feel so unappreciated in my roles of mother, wife, and educator. Times when I feel that I am failing in these roles. Times when I think I made poor decisions about life choices. Then I think of my favorite flower the daffodil. Planted in the fall there is no immediate gratification for the work done. Long cold dark months pass. Months long enough to forget all the places the bulbs were buried. And though a constant and predictable cycle from dormancy to full bloom, they surprise with their arrival of green emerging from the frozen ground, to stretch and reach and arrive with their full brilliance. Once properly planted they can take a lot of neglect and with just a little tendering of water and nutrient they increase their blooms with each passing year resulting in years of anticipated joy. Flowers are a simple joy. My life decisions bring me many simple joys. I am grateful for the abundance of love and happiness that blooms in my life and in this I am successful.

Garden

Gardening is civil and social, but it wants the vigor and freedom of the forest and the outlaw.~~ Henry David Thoreau



In the wilds a garden is more of a battle as your orderly plants want to break free to the chaos of nature. Poor soil, water pumped fresh from the earth, and weed seeds blown in from all around make raised beds the only method of gardening for us, who want to grow organically. In between rain bursts we build these redwood raised beds. This is as far as our $500 budget got us; eventually I would like three times as many. For now, I will be satisfied with a salsa garden. The process of growing and harvesting fresh fruits and vegetables makes me feel like I am truly living. Connection to the earth or the basic survival instinct built into humans, whatever it is the dirt, water, and sun is a magic that makes my heart soar.

Spring

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever! The faint silvery warblings heard over the partially bare and moist fields from the bluebird, the song sparrow, and the red-wing, as if the last flakes of winter tinkled as they fell!~~Henry David Thoreau

Three quarters of a year we have lived the life of Walden with Wife and Kids. We have fallen into a rhythm of chores where they are no longer difficult. We have weathered the harshest weather without damage. We have enjoyed the leisure that bad weather provides maybe a little too much. The inside of the house is not yet finished, and I did expect it to be. I guess it is just a little later than expected like the heralds of spring this year. The crocuses are barely blooming and the geese are just beginning to nest. They are an enjoyable part of the commute, watching them nest and raise their goslings. March is the bird month. Every evening this month, around 9-10 pm, a little later as it gets lighter, we have a chorus of owls. We have at least a few different owls, some small and some large. On one of our walks through the hillside we explored a ravine that seems unusual in the landscape and scared up a parliament (a few dozen) of owls burrowed in the earthen banks of the ravine. It was something unexpected and delightful. This month we have also had the addition of a number of Red Tailed hawks to our yearly companion of the Swainson's hawk. They are busy catching the emerging mice. Our cat, who I feared too pampered to be useful, has also started catching mice. She somehow ingrained herself into the hearts of the household and ended up with the softest warmest seat all winter. I had to be the mean one to put her out each day. Now, luckily, she prefers to spend her time out of doors. She will mew at the window by the door when she wants to go out. And proudly hunts and frolics. Though the first day of spring brought us drizzly snow, I see the signs that sun and green are right around the corner.

Snow

"We sleep, and at length awake to the still reality of a winter morning. The snow lies warm as cotton or down upon the window-sill; the broadened sash and frosted panes admit a dim and private light, which enhances the snug cheer within. The stillness of the morning is impressive... From the eaves and fences hang stalactites of snow, and in the yard stand stalagmites covering some concealed core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the sky on every side; and where were walls and fences we see fantastic forms stretching in the frolic gambols across the dusky landscape, as if nature had strewn her fresh designs over the fields by night as models for man's art." ~~Henry David Thoreau



After a tease of spring, with melted snow and 50 degree sun, winter has announced himself king with a vengeance.

We have been lucky and our two snowed-in days this winter have been on days off with no destination or obligation. Until we have money to buy a tractor, we are shoveling this drive by hand. It is great exercise. The two miles of dirt road are almost always plowed. I have only driven once through the clean drifted white as if sailing on an albino sea.

Setting our 16 year old licensed driver upon these roads is a test of parenthood and my overprotective nature. For the past eight months he has driven these roads at least twice a week, once with the mother and once with the father, absorbing or tolerating our varied advice and driving styles. I know he is a careful and observant driver. I also know that once that passenger seat is empty he will turn up his music, drive a little faster, and take the snowy corners a little sharper... just because he can. Even though he is aware of impaired drivers and animals that emerge from nowhere, I worry about all these unknowns... the fog of nature and the fog of the mind... but know that he has to gain these experiences sometime. We give him an old but dependable car. One that doesn't matter if it takes the few expected dents of experience. He tells us his destination, calls before he starts the return drive, has a cell phone and various family and friends he can call upon if stuck. I want him to have these experiences while we are still right here, if need be, to pull him out. And that is my theory of parenthood.

Adventuring Spirit

We should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character.
Henry David Thoreau


Years ago I watched the movie "Into the Wild" and quickly dismissed reading the book thinking Christopher McCandless to be crazy. I only read the book by Jon Krakauer after much convincing of a friend (is this book recommended because I am seen as crazy?). The book is more than the story of one man lost in his adventure, it is a story anaylizing the adventuring spirit. The thing that made Chrisopher McCandless seem crazy is that his adventure ended in death, while sometimes those that live after an adventure are deemed as heroes. And these stories are important because they make us think and remind us about what is important.

Life today is so easy. Yet we must have adventuring programmed into our DNA. Years past we needed to have a desire for adventure in order to survive. Life was an adventure. The need for food and shelter, for finding and protecting a family all involved adventure. Today we call dominoes and find mates at match.com. Yet we still have the desire for adventure. Adventuring today is found in sports, in entrepreneurship, and in travel... are not people who climb the tallest mountains, risk financial ruin, or travel to remote and dangerous locals crazy? Or are the crazy ones those we find adventuring in darker places such as crime and drugs.

What struck me most in this book is when Kraukauer talked about how youth think they have a God given right to accomplish whatever it is they want to accomplish. I see this every day with the teens I work with. Every teen is invincible, every teen has the world at their feet. They do not see the perils, they do not see the consequences, they do not imagine the pain they might cause others, they do not doubt for a moment that they will not come home from their adventure. Let us all have adventures, but let them be adventures that build character, that let us become our own heroes.

Winter

A truly good book teaches me better than to read it. I must soon lay it down, and commence living on its hint. What I began by reading, I must finish by acting. ~~Henry David Thoreau




(The South Western View from our Dinning Room)








January has always been my least favorite month of the year, but this year it is feeling all magical. The solar system has well exceeded my expectations. We are working out the kinks and developing a rhythm of work and play. The house is the perfect size. Room to move and create our own worlds, yet connected enough that we all end up together. Box Elder County doesn't have the depressing inversions of Cache County. We have sun streaming through our windows chasing off the fog of night. Gradually, the light lasts a little longer each day. The world is a glittery sparkle of white with the frame of pink and yellow hues of clouds and mountains in the distance. The drive, now at the awakening of morning, is so glorious. I feel like I travel in the landscape of Emily Dickinson's poetry.

I have time to walk in that cold cold coldness when you feel the ice forming on your lungs and all the sorrows melting with your movement of warmth. Then I return to sit by a fire, drink a hot beverage, embrace my beloved, and read books of all variety. We are all avid readers of various genres. My kids love to share their favorites with me. It gives us conversation and a chance for me to see their logic and ability to evaluate and reason and to marvel at their intelligence and good sense. In this travel of thought I realize the wonders that are right around me and I know that it is time for me to start giving more to the world the embraces me.