One Week in Fairyland

Earlier this month, I had the great good fortune of spending a whole entire week away from home at an artist colony on a lake in Western Maine.



I had the most charming little cottage all to myself.

I shared the property with four other artists (including our hostess), each of whom had her own cottage, spaced far enough apart from each other that we only saw each other when we wanted to.

Each cottage was sweet and unique, and I'm quite sure each of us believed she had the very best one (but in my case it was true).


Mine was named Viking Court, and I'm pretty sure The Three Bears moved back in after I swept it out and went on my way.

Inside it had the most amazing array of patterns—tile and wallpaper and linoleum and window panes. I couldn't stop taking pictures of the intersections of light and pattern.

Even the giant spider webs under the eaves made beautiful patterns.

I also painted wildflowers and mushrooms and visited the big chestnut tree and went on a tramp with a friend who led a group of land trust docents and swam in the lake every day. I was extra-lucky to have been awarded a week of beautiful sunny weather sandwiched between two rainy weeks.



I got some work done, too—a full revision of my entire manuscript (handwritten changes on a very thick printout). A lot of work remains to be done (I filled seven pages with notes of things to research), but I feel good about what I accomplished and ready to move on to the next step.

Every day I had a moment where I thought, "E and Z's bus will be here soon…" or "I have to go pick up M from cross country…" or "Is there a soccer game today…" or "It's time to start dinner…" and then I realized…no. I don't have to do anything or go anywhere. I'm not responsible for anyone.


Two weeks have gone by since I left and I'm having trouble believing I ever really was there.



I hope the Three Bears are happy to have it back.

Documentation ~ Still So Far Behind

It's been my New Year's resolution for the last four years (at least!) to get caught up on putting all my digital photos into albums, and it's a resolution that I've failed to keep, year after year. In fact, it's been two years since I last finished an album, and I've been taking photos all that time, falling even further behind.

For several months now, I've been copying photos from past years onto a backup drive and deleting them off my computer to make space. When I hit 2012—the next year in line for album-making—I also had to upload them to Snapfish, my photo processing site of choice. This all took forever—partly because we were having problems with our internet (which the phone company eventually traced to a bad wire 3 miles from here), and partly because I had SO MANY pictures from 2012.

I could not figure it out—that was the first year I was in graduate school, while still working full time. When did I have time to take all those pictures? It then occurred to me that what I didn't have time to do was delete any pictures—there were lots of duplicates, blurry shots, and otherwise not that great photos in the mix. (I also didn't have time to edit the photos—as can be seen from those shadowy faces on the front cover).



I also got my big camera that year, which has got to account for at least some of the excess of photos. Going through these images multiple times (once to upload, once to copy onto hard drive, once to delete, once to import into the album-making thingy, twice more to import them after errors and when  I realized I'd need to be more selective or the images would be the size of postage stamps in order for them to all fit) I was astonished by how much we did that year—out-of-town guests (my parents, my sister, my niece twice), two camping trips, a weekend at camp, a trip to Boston as a family, a trip to Boston with M's class, a boat trip with E and Z's class, a gazillion trips to the beach and to various nature centers and museums and hiking trails. Crafts and art projects and holiday celebrations. It was also the year I kept a nature journal daily When did I have time to read and write all the stuff I needed to for grad school, let alone go to work and sleep? I was exhausted just looking at the pictures!



I have probably overly ambitious plans of uploading and albuming one year every two months for the  rest of 2017. I have a vague hope that there aren't quite as many photos for subsequent years as there were in 2012—maybe I got into the deleting habit. Maybe once M had his own computer (in 2015), mine would host fewer photos of Lego guys and silly videos. But I'm not entirely confident that will be the case—one thing we didn't do in 2012 was go on any big trips, which is when I really go crazy with the camera (at least I've already put my 2013 Ireland trip into an album). Stay tuned for the next installment of Andrea's Quest for Photo Stasis.

Positively November Redux

So I set out this month with the spontaneous Instagram project Positively November to try to see the happy side of this month that traditionally gets me down.



As it turned out, November royally sucked. Not because of the weather—which was unseasonably warm and sunny—or the short, dark days, which are the reasons I usually have for dreading this month. But because of the end of democracy as we know it. Or the end of our illusion of democracy. Whatever. It sucked. It's been hard, for me and for many, many people I know. Good, big-hearted people who all want a free, just, safe, and happy world for their children and everyone's children. We all feel like we just took an enormous step back from that goal.



But I persisted, looking for something each day to feel positive about. And I did it, even if it was something small—leaves on the water, tomatillos from the garden, boys playing. I even got a couple of people to play along with me now and then.



I only missed two days—one because we had house guests and I forgot (I just retroactively posted a picture from that day), and another, this past Monday, whose first glimpse of sun and blue sky in days gave plenty to be positive about, but I just didn't happen to have my phone with me when I went outside.



I think it's going to be more important than ever to find these little moments of beauty in our days going forward, if nothing else to hold despair at bay and remind ourselves of all we have to be thankful for—and all we have to fight for. And it doesn't hurt to spread a little positivity into other people's lives, either.

I plan on playing along with Susannah Conway's December Reflections Instagram prompts next month, if anyone's looking for photo ideas.

Positively November

November can be a challenging time of year for me. All the leaves are down and the sky is gray, and all that. Add in the holidays bearing down like a runaway truck and I could just curl up by the fire with a stack of books and a cup of tea and go into torpor until the lilacs bloom.

 This year, however, I'm trying to take a different attitude toward this traditionally gloomy month.

On a whim Tuesday morning, I started a month-long Instagram project called "positively November."

Each day of November, I'm going to post one photo of something positive happening in my life—that moment, this month, every day. Big or small. And not necessarily unique to November.

I invite you to join me, using the hashtag #positivelynovember, and together we can all find things to appreciate in these shortening days.

Burrowing

My heart is heavy this week, after some bad news about a friend—acquaintance? Hard to say which these days. A lovely person I saw occasionally whom I should have taken the time to get to know better. Isn't that true of so many in our harried lives?



We had plans this weekend for a quick overnight hiking trip. Plans that were derailed by a solid day of rain Sunday, much to the relief of three boys. I realize I haven't honored their need to recover from this summer's trip. They jumped right back into school the day after we got home—a week after we came off the trail—and have not had a chance to rest and process the trip, as I have had. So they were very, very reluctant to go backpacking again, even just five miles each way.



The unexpected turn of events freed up two days on our calendar, which seemed to instantly self-populate right through September and October as soon as we came off the trail. After we unpacked from the trip we never went on and took care of all the housework I had planned to ignore, I took myself out for a little walk around in the rain.



I've hardly had my camera out at all since we got back and it was kind of nice to just walk around and point it at whatever caught my eye.



After a friend commented on my Hiking Journal post, about how it's difficult to get her students to turn to reflection after "death march" hiking days (she teaches in an experiential program—which sounds amazing). And it made me think about action versus reflection, expression versus inspiration.



I find it hard to balance these—do I go out and walk quickly through the woods for exercise, or do I meander, noticing what is around me and think about what it means? Do I sit down and write 20 pages, or do I curl up with a book?



This month (okay, and last month, too) I've definitely felt like burrowing. I'd much rather read than write. I've been more focused on trying to stay in shape than looking under rocks.



So it was nice to have an afternoon to just wander and look and think. To appreciate this autumn season, which is so fleeting, as are all seasons, as is life.



And then I began this week refreshed. Ready to write, to reflect, to be productive.

CT Gear Post #3 ~ Luxuries

First, I finished the last two of five sleeping bags!!!

Almost down to the wire, but they're done!

Second, I was going to do a comprehensive gear post, with weights and details for everything, but I ran out of time and energy after two days of sorting couscous and oatmeal and granola bars into baggies and boxes. So instead I'll just tell you about the fun stuff. (If you want to hear more about gear, you can read about our tent here, our sleeping bags here and here, my clothes here, and the boys' clothes here.)

In the lightweight backpacking world, anything that is non-essential (as in, not your pack, your shelter, your sleep system, or pretty much the clothes on your back) is considered a luxury. And you're only supposed to take one luxury.

I knew from the get-go I wasn't going to be able to limit myself to just one fun thing, and I spent a lot of time pondering how to minimize my many luxuries. I bought a new camera, much smaller than my DSLR, but with a lot of features and a large light sensor. I initially thought I wouldn't take my phone, but decided I should for safety, communication with my family, who we will meet along the trail on occasion, and checking up on business (i.e., finding out if any of my pending submissions have been selected). I also downloaded some books I want to read to the kids onto it--Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, Kidnapped to double its value. As a naturalist, I feel naked without a field guide or two in my back pocket, so I picked up a set of folding, laminated Pocket Naturalist guides, and limited myself to birds and flowers.

For my journal (which really is essential, since I'm writing a book), I settled on a series of thin, mid-sized Moleskine notebooks , a new one sent to me each week, and a set of mini colored pencils in a limited but pleasing palette. A little while ago, I started a daily habit of reading a poem each morning. I fell out of the habit recently, but decided I want to get back on track during this trip, so I picked up a book of Mary Oliver poems, and then I did something I've never done to a book before--I defaced it, cutting out the pages and divvying them among my resupply boxes. The pages are tucked in the back pocket of my journal, along with a July star chart and a book of postcard stamps. I also put my yoga routine, addresses of friends, and other things I want to keep track of in the back pages of my first journal, which are perforated and can migrate to my next journal. 

Inside the front cover of the first journal, I wrote a quote from A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains by Isabella Bird and a card a good friend of ours gave me, with an inspiring quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery and a four-leaf clover. On page one I stuck a comic my mom sent.

I thought it would be fun to add more inspiring quotes to this and subsequent journals, so please leave in the comments your favorite quote about nature, wilderness, travel, walking, or anything else you think would be fun for me to read on this epic journey. The first six people who leave a quote in the comments, I will send a postcard from the trail (please message me using the email form on the right of the page with your mailing address). Thanks!

What in the World?

Do you remember World Magazine?

It was the kids' version of National Geographic, back in the 70s and 80s.

Ad-free and sophisticated precursor to today's hyper-advertizing, technology-obsessed NG Kids.

Anyway, on the back page, there was always a series of close-up photos of everyday objects.

You had to guess what in the world they were.

(I'm not actually certain that "What in the World?" was the name of that feature, but if it wasn't it should have been.)

I had fun taking what-in-the-world-type photos of the sapping operation Saturday.

I didn't get any shots of the finished product--I'm only good for about five minutes of watching water boil--but I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunity over the next couple of weeks.

What We've Been Up To

It's been a few weeks since I've been in this space because my computer was threatening to never start up again if I didn't deal with its storage issues. I found lots of ways of avoiding doing so until this past weekend when I finally took every free minute to edit and upload photos online and then copy them to a memory stick and then delete them (which is a scary thing to do, even when you have two backups). I managed to only get through about four months' worth (of 2012!!), but it was enough to free up some space. My plan is to do a month or two ever week until I catch up to now. Of course, catching up with photo management has been on my new year's resolution list for the last three years at least, so we'll see how far I get.

In the meantime, we've been doing our best to get into the holiday spirit. On Thanksgiving, we had our traditional fruit parfait breakfast.



And then Z, M, and I made some corn husk dolls for our table. 

And I made a pear frangipane tart from this cookbook. Oh, my goodness, I don't do a lot of fancy cooking these days, but this was divine and so worth the effort.

The day after Thanksgiving, Z, E, and I drew self portraits. I took a few drawing classes last month and this was one of our homework assignments and it was super fun to do with the kids, even though they had no interest in following the steps in the lesson

Or maybe that's what made it fun--their own unique take on it. 

And then, all of a sudden, it was December. Last Monday evening I was sitting on the top step, putting the first Christmas book in a bag for our book advent calendar (aka CBC or Christmas Book Countdown) when Z walked by on his way to bed. He asked if I was putting all of the books in bags that night. "Not tonight; I'm too tired." I said. "I'm just doing the first book." He laughed and I asked, "Do you still want to do it this year?" "Yes! It's a tradition!" I thought maybe they were getting too old to want to hear Christmas picture books, but I guess not, especially not Z, who is particularly attached to traditions and doing things the same way year after year.

We decided to put off getting our Christmas tree one more week--it really wasn't tree-getting weather, C was busy with a project, and I had a workshop to prepare for and teach Sunday. Instead we did the prep work--dusting and decluttering and vacuuming behind furniture so the living room will be all ready for the tree next weekend. We also went out in the woods to take photos for out Christmas cards, which is always a challenge. This is one of the better shots.

St. Nicholas visited our house Sunday morning and placed gnomes, clementines, and chocolates in the boys' shoes.

The gnomes were supposed to be ornaments (I like to give them ornaments on St. Nicholas Day so they hang on the tree all season), but St. Nicholas never got around to attaching hangers to their gnomey hats.And we even squeezed making a batch of cookies in Sunday evening. I mixed the dough when I got home from my workshop and then E, Z, and M took turns cutting and decorating them with colored sugar in between their showers that evening. While we were making the cookies I remembered how when they were little, baking a batch of cookies was an all day event, with pulling out the play tower, and finding aprons, and making sure they took exact turns with the measuring and mixing and cutting. I thought that even though there are things about those cute little ages I miss, there are some nice compensations, like everything doesn't have to be a big production all the time. I put the cut cookies out on the deck to chill and went to work uploading and copying and deleting one last batch of photos.



When I got into bed at about 10:30 I was feeling very satisfied with myself for having accomplished everything I planned that weekend, and then I remembered...the cookies were still on the deck. So some things are easier nowadays with older kids, but sometimes I still have mommy brain.