The long version

I am in the unfortunate habit of rushing everything. On the chances I get to post here, I'm always giving the quick version just to get something down, just to get something done. But I regret that rush-rush-rush all the time, and think about how much I enjoy Natalie's posts with her careful storytelling and generous sharing of pictures. So with Natalie as my guide and model (which is true in so many ways!), I undertake telling you a long story, with many photos.

My beloved brother Tony and his wife Carol (also beloved), generously spent their summer vacation week here with us. It's not cheap to fly from southern Missouri to Boston, and they don't get a lot of vacation time. In a year where the importance of family is in such high relief, it made more difference than I can say to have them here.

Tony's first brilliant idea of the trip was to rent kayaks on a local pond. Do you ever feel totally delighted and chagrined to find out after years and years that there are wonderful things to do in your own backyard that you don't discover until someone comes to visit?


With the five of us, we rented two doubles and one single, and took turns in each boat. Everyone particularly loved the single -- it was the highest quality boat, for one thing, and being able to just propel yourself around was exhilarating.
Here are Tony and Dean in their twin hats, getting the feel of the boat.


Ken and Dean, with Ken (in my opinion) doing his best officer-of-the-law imitation.
Now you can see why kayaks have been added to our wish list, even though it will mean having to clear out the garage to make space to store them.

Ken turned 51 during the week and his birthday was the only day he could take off from work, unfortunately. His heart's desire was mini golf, and

homemade chocolate cupcakes. Easy wishes to fulfill.

The rest of us spent a day tooling around Boston, walking the waterfront

and stopping for ice creams at the Public Gardens. Tony and Carol, although both native Chicagoans like me, are not city people. They enjoyed the bits of sightseeing but preferred to get away from the throngs whenever possible. Again, being local, I forget the impact of being able to point to a church and comment off-handedly that Benjamin Franklin was baptized there.

We took off mid-week on a road trip up to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Carol loves waterfalls, and even in the dog days of a hot summer there was still plenty of big water running up there. Our first stop was Flume Gorge at Franconia Notch State Park, where the water was big but so were the crowds.



Worth it, though, for the breathtaking walk up through the gorge, cooled by the running water and deep shade.


No, this is NOT Mount Washington (on day two, when we *should* have been able to see it, it was hiding behind the skirts of a morning fog), but can you see the profile of Washington in the mountain top on the left?

Dean was our expert guide here; last month was his hiking trip up to the Lonesome Lake hut. He was the one who guided us in the big choice of coming up here in the first place and we would have bought him a beer for the good tip (but got him a box of maple sugar candy instead).



A geology and animal behavior lesson. While they also managed to log an inordinate number of hours on the Wii together, Tony and Dean shared their love of the outdoors, of hiking, of animals and nature. The balance of Dean's local knowledge against Tony's vast years of experience (but all in the Midwest) gave them so many opportunities to compare notes and deepen their close relationship. It's hard having family so far away -- we only see them every few years -- but turned out to be pretty easy to catch up on lost time.

We spent some time on the Appalacian Trail,

and while we're very used to the word "trail" being applied to places that look like this, Tony and Carol were fairly shocked -- no clear walkway to be seen so it takes the skill of watching carefully for trail markers to avoid getting lost in the woods.


And also the good sense to take them at their word and turn around at the appropriate points.

No sense of loss, though, in turning back sometimes, given how much is accessible with moderate effort.
It would have been nice to have a whole week up here, so that there was never a need to hurry anyone away from their explorations and thoughts; maybe next summer?

I managed to say only a few, well-timed "be careful's" and to let Dean explore, crossing back and forth across running water.



And fortunately we never needed the spare pair of dry shoes (or dry clothing) from the car. Dean is gazing up at the next stretch of the trail; we didn't continue that loop because we didn't have the time and the terrain was beyond what Tony could handle given that he just had knee replacement surgery 8 months ago.

But again, it didn't feel that we were missing out in any way, and each trek we managed to time so that we had the falls to ourselves -- meeting others only on our way back out.








Including the kind of fellow hikers who are happy to take your picture for you!

The evening included pizza for dinner and a pool lesson as well (more good ideas on Tony's part),

with amazing local ice cream for dessert.
Are you thinking what I was thinking? I couldn't resist the temptation to check it out, just to be sure. I could imagine some horse lovers in New Hampshire deciding against the glue factory when the time came, but it turned out to be the Wallace C. Horse memorial cemetery instead.


And like trying to hold the cold mountain water in your hands the week slipped away.

I read an article recently about the superiority of experiences over "stuff," when you have the opportunities to make that choice. And my piece is that the experiences can be very local, no matter where you are; I imagine there could be some nearby gems that you've yet to discover. The whole staycation thing. Count me in, and come visit me any time you'd like for your own chance at some of these wonders.

A boy's life

Our favorite local mini-golf place was lovingly carved out of an existing dairy farm by the farmer's son, who was looking for ways to keep the property in the family and to keep the farm open. The course is beautiful, and lovingly landscaped in ways that pay homage to farming in New England. And it doesn't hurt that the ice cream there is outstanding.
Dean suggests that next season we keep track of our scores across all games played, to crown one grand master at the end. My suggestion was that we not keep score at all anymore, given that we're all now playing at an equal level and games generally end with no more than one or two strokes separating first from third. I'm fine either way, just as long as we're getting in as many games as we can. We might even head out again today.
The other current favorite outdoor activity is shooting Dean's bb-gun on our home range. I appreciate the fact that allowing a child to use a gun of any kind is not everyone's cup of tea. Dean's was a gift from his uncle, my brother Tony -- a responsible, dedicated outdoorsman who does bring home a deer or two during the season (which he is able to process completely -- tenderloins for the freezer, sausages, home smoked jerky) and who believes that teaching children gun safety is vastly superior to leaving guns a mystery (since that's what can lead to tragedies should an unprepared kid come into contact with a gun at some point).

We're super, super careful. Dean's wearing safety glasses, which you may not be able to see, the course is set up to avoid both anyone's walking in the area as well as to ensure no stray bbs do any harm (it's a mile of wooded conservation land with no public access beyond the target), and the procedure of safety on/barrel up is followed after every shot. And the reality is that the archery set that we have and use is actually the more potentially lethal (although of course THAT has all it's own safety rules as well).

So here we are, getting the most out of these last few weeks of summer -- made s'mores for dessert this week and looking forward to more badminton this weekend. My brother Tony and his wife arrive tomorrow from southern Missouri for a week's visit and we're planning to do some kayaking on a local lake as well as show them around Boston. Things just keep getting better.

In which we grasp at "summer"

I accept that I will never cease to be amazed at how quickly time goes. Whoosh! There it goes again!
"Summer," that word that used to mean an endless string of lazy days and of mini golf and ice cream and the beach and sunscreen and bare feet and nothing in particular that had to be done -- well that word now seems to mean something entirely different. Something too much like more of the same but with hotter weather.

We've done what we could to make it mean vacation and family. Dean and I took a trip to Chicago to visit with some of my family and see the sights and enjoy each other's company (poor Ken had to work).

(Chicagoans call it "The Bean" but the artist called it "Cloud Gate.")

And real cloud gates! Our gorgeous view one morning from the top of the John Hancock Tower, when the clouds descended to street level and showed us a sea of buildings, bobbing up above the surface.

I'm sorry, but there IS no better place in all the world to watch a major league baseball game than Wrigley Field. We call it The Friendly Confines for good reason -- this gem of a ballpark fills, on a weekday (and every day) for a team that hasn't won The Series in, um, a while (OK, 102 years but who's counting?). It fills with fans who share the love, even with fans from the opposing team (I can tell you that you do NOT want to openly express support for the opposing team when you're at Fenway here in Boston.) Not an inappropriate word was said within our earshot (again, a refreshing change from Fenway) and no, we didn't really care that our Cubbies didn't win (not too much).

(Behind Dean, up at street level across the river, they were filming Transformers III.)

I am very happy when I am home. In Chicago. No matter how much changes, I still know this place as I know no other place.

And this past weekend our niece was married. I took a gazillion pictures, but I'll share this one for now -- they got married on the grounds of a golf club and here you see them having fun with their photographer. It was an intense, emotional day; Lori was missing in person but entirely there in spirit.
We thoroughly enjoyed the day, which couldn't have been more ideal -- low 70s, sea breeze, abundant sunshine. Seeing all our friends and relations for a happy occasion was cathartic, even though we all had to choke back tears from time to time.

For now I simply leave you with this incredibly good piece of advice, courtesy of Lincoln Park Zoo. Natalie has me hungry for a road trip which is an entirely different and wonderful kind of summer phrase; we just might have something up our sleeves (if we had any) in that regard.

The first 10 that came to mind

In no particular order, some particular summertime pleasures:

1. Sleeping in
2. Waking to birdsong
3. Arnold Palmers (that is, ice tea and lemonade, mixed about half and half, over ice)
4. Music from an ice cream truck
5. Feeling lazy, and being lazy
6. When the heat breaks, just before rain comes
7. Grilling a simple dinner
8. Badminton on the front lawn
9. Sprinklers
10. Staying up late to stargaze

I'm wondering what's on your list, and thinking about my friends on the other side of the world who are basking in their own particular wintertime pleasures at the moment....

Happy Trails!

Admittedly not my finest photographic effort, but here's a look at Dean from 7:30 this morning -- making final adjustments to his gear before packing up and heading out. He's going on a hiking trip on the Appalachian Trail in New Hampshire's White Mountains for 4 days and 3 nights, along with 9 classmates and 2 teachers from school. Although he has a "no-nonsense, and don't take too long taking this picture" look on his face, he was so eager to get going this morning.

If you've been along on the journey here for a while, you know that this is a pretty major breakthrough. Dean hasn't been interested in leaving home during the summers, preferring day camps and being at home. It was hard for me to accept this -- much as I adore him and having him at home -- because my summers were all spent at summer camps where I'd be for weeks, camping in the woods and miles away from home and I always felt he was missing out.

But in typical Dean fashion, when he's ready to do something he's all over it, and this was a perfect opportunity to go with an outdoor expert (one of his teachers is a certified Appalachian Mountain Club guide), with people he knows and trusts. I'm so proud of him, and am looking forward to his return home with all the stories he'll have to tell.

S'mores. We'll have s'mores for dessert when he gets home Friday night.

Always something to smile about on a summer Friday

Hello.

Thanks so very, very much for the kind words and support. We are doing our best to take our time, breathe deeply, support each other, and find joy where ever we can.

This photo of Ken and Dean isn't super current -- a trip to a local Mexican restaurant at the end of May -- but it's sort of just quintessentially them, and us; we're savoring little events like this to lift our spirits.

Friends of ours in Ireland were kind enough to send Dean the World Cup insert from their Sunday paper a few weeks ago. Here's Dean, really the moment he opened it, filling in all the results to-date. It was wonderful to see him learn right away how to do all the math calculations to know which teams had to do what (win, by how many goals, while that team ties or that team loses by two) in order to get out of the group stage. He's faithfully kept the chart up each day, and now we're poised for the last two matches this weekend.

Spain, being the team of our beloved Fernando Torres, was our top pick all along (since we knew in our hearts that the US wouldn't be advancing to the finals this time). Although he's had a tough tournament, the team has been brilliant and we're hoping for a win on Sunday. We'd like to see Uruguay take 3rd. With Ken's being of Dutch descent, we had a fondness for the Netherlands team until we saw them play -- WAAAAY too much flopping for our taste, and overall we just aren't as enamored of their style of play.

I tell you, I don't know what I would have done to get through the days if we didn't have the World Cup to occupy us. Viva la futbol!

This morning, after I dropped Dean and two friends off for their last day at zoo camp, I drove past a family that was clearly packing up the car to leave on vacation. It made me so happy to see them, getting the last of the gear stowed and full of anticipation for where ever they were going. It's lovely to let someone else's joy be contagious.

I would like to turn a corner

I would very much like to leave the sorrow of the first half of this year behind me now, and move on to a period that is, at the very least, uneventful.

Last week, I lost my very dear friend, my confidante, Dean's beloved aunt and godmother, Lori. She was killed as a result of a gas explosion in her home; the resulting fire leveled the place. Her wonderful daughter, our niece Hallie, is getting married at the end of this month -- she's going ahead with the wedding because Lori would have wanted that, and because I think having something, something happy, to keep her occupied is helping in some way to navigate through this grief.

I don't know how common propane tanks are in the rest of the U.S. or elsewhere in the world. For homes built in areas where there are no natural gas pipelines, one can choose to have propane gas tanks to fuel a gas stove, a hot water heater, and sometimes the heating system for a home. We don't have any kind of gas in our home; Ken has always been steadfastly against it.

But it's common in New Hampshire, where Lori lived. PLEASE -- if you or anyone you know has any kind of gas service at home, remember that if you even think you might smell gas just leave immediately (don't touch anything!) and call the fire department. Feel foolish if you must, but be safe. Don't dismiss it, don't wait until tomorrow to have it checked out.

Lori was effusive and generous with her love. She never, ever missed a chance to say, "I love you!" and if you managed to be the one to say it to her first she'd reply, "I love you more!" She was kind, thoughtful, thorough, and brave. She'd been through so very much in her life, and all of it made her stronger. She didn't waste time on regrets or indecision. She never missed a birthday or holiday.

There will never be another like her.

Dimensional changes may occur

I was shopping for a new bathroom rug (the small kind that you put down in front of the tub) and reading care labels to make sure I could machine wash whichever one I purchased. I laughed out loud when I read, "Machine wash cold; Dry Flat. Dimensional changes may occur." OH! -- this thing is going to shrink! Too funny. Or, perhaps too sad -- do they think that they are pulling one over on the consumer? Can't anyone just be honest anymore?

Oh well. I'm in the midst of doing battle with a very ferocious head cold that's trying to turn into pneumonia. I've completely lost my voice and can only keep myself upright a few hours a day. I've still had to go in to work because it's been so busy; I feel terrible about having to give school tours in a hoarse whisper (and the coughing attack just as one family was leaving this morning was quite mortifying, but I think they still liked the school). Apparently the rabies vaccinations so over-taxed my immune system that I was an easy target for some nasty bug. I know I'll get through this but it's a little hard to see the light at the moment.

And Christmas. What about Christmas gift-making as a year-round activity? I look at my half-finished project from January and hope I can make amends this summer.

The story

(A highly cropped image of the fox -- I was NOT that close when taking the photo!)

(And here it is, going about its business crossing the street from our house to our neighbor's.)

And here's the story I promised:

We'd been seeing the fox for a few days, just as I've shown you here. The first photo was taken at the end of our street, at the point where we'd see the fox coming and going -- we figured its den was back there. It looked healthy, and it appeared uninterested in the human activity on the street.

So early one Sunday morning (2 weeks ago), it emerged from it's nook of the woods just as Biscuit and I passed by (about 75 feet away or so). It paused a moment, then began its travel across the street. Biscuit and I had stopped so that it could ignore us and just go on its way without feeling threatened. However, it veered off its path and headed toward us.

I then started slowly backing up, but as I moved it started running toward us. Realizing I couldn't outrun it, I stamped my foot hard on the ground and yelled "NO!" It leaped onto my leg and bit me, just above my foot. Of course it was the first morning of the season that I'd gone out in shorts instead of jeans. As it leaped onto me I tried to jump backwards, and in the process fell down as it bit me.

In that one moment, as the fox was jumping onto me and I was falling, I had this instant vision of the situation becoming horrible -- of the fox really mauling me. I knew I couldn't let that happen so I was up on my feet again very quickly. Biscuit was barking like mad (we always walk him on leash and I still had him) and letting the fox know he was eager for a fight.

The fox and Biscuit circled each other, snarling and swiping and gnashing teeth. I was screaming for help to no avail. Eventually the fox decided Biscuit was too much trouble and ran back into the woods. We have not seen it again since.

So it turns out that rabies treatment is NOT as bad as it used to be. Never for a moment hesitate to get treatment if you've been potentially exposed. This morning I had my final vaccination, and just have a slightly stiff arm to show for it. The process is more annoying for requiring you to go back for three treatments after the initial treatment.

I've learned since that this was a gray fox, and that Biscuit could have easily chased it up a tree if not caught and killed it. Not that I want to see an animal get killed, but Biscuit has HAD his rabies vaccinations and he could have prevented me (and perhaps anyone else) from being bitten. I mistakenly believed it was my job to protect him, when in reality I should have let him protect me. Kind of like the business of never following an animal onto ice if the animal has fallen through -- the animal has a much better chance of surviving than the human. Lesson learned.

I'm looking forward to the return of an ordinary life!

Wild. Life.

I'm sorry.

I did not mean to fall off the face of blogland.

I have a very wild story to tell you -- the short version is: While out walking the dog on our street, I was attacked and bitten by a fox. I am fine, but am just finishing up rabies treatment.

I'll tell you a little more when I can. As you can imagine it is a story I have found myself having to tell. A lot. And remember -- I work at an elementary school, and so that's given me a weird kind of celebrity status (and means that a LOT of parents of a LOT of kids are coming up to me because they heard a story from their kid that can't possibly be true...).

Anyway. Seriously -- it's all all right. I'm just tired, and suddenly find myself swept up in the true insanity that is always the end of a school year.

I'll be back, although with the World Cup kicking off tomorrow I realize I shouldn't over-promise!

Meanwhile, remember this: most dogs can defend themselves against foxes. If I should ever meet an aggressive fox out on a walk again, I will release Biscuit and let him do what he's bred to do -- defend me and hunt a wild animal. It's kind of like the whole walking a dog in winter thing and not going out on the ice to 'rescue' it if it falls through, since you're likely to end up dying and the dog has a decent chance at survival. Not that I'm going to die, or anything, but you get the drift.

They are NOT slow, you know

There are so many things going on right now. So many things I am working on, thinking about, planning. Work is insanely busy because the end of every school year is always busy, and so things are crazy for Dean, too. His soccer season has almost ended (which frees up our time just ahead of having the World Cup take our lives over).

I despise not having the time here that I would like. Photos I want to share, stories I want to tell, ideas I want to spread. I must be content, at the moment, with just this short post to say that I have more I'd like to say. Soon.

Meanwhile, Dean and I suspect that the sudden turtle activity on our street means that females are seeking out sites in which to lay eggs. We need to do a little research to see if this theory holds. We've been ensuring that the ones we find make it off the road and into the woods.

They are VERY fast, we'll have you know. Turn around and in a flash they are gone. Places to go, things to do, and oh so little time.

At the Farm

Dean is just a few days back from his three-day trip to The Farm School. This is an utterly amazing place; a small family farm donated, a number of years ago, to an organization dedicated to introducing children to farm life. School groups go (it's hard to get a slot, since schools like ours return each year -- ours was the first school to send a group 16 years ago and we've been returning ever since!) -- and they run summer camp programs as well.
One of the extraordinary things about the place is that the children aren't simply "helping out" the adults at the farm. Rather, it is the work of the children themselves that keeps the farm going; they have a tiny crew that could never operate the farm alone.


Children get up at 6, stretch, and do an hour of farm work before breakfast (unless you're on breakfast duty that day -- the kids also do all the cooking with the help of one adult). Slopping pigs, gathering eggs, milking cows, letting the sheep and goats out to graze -- those are typical morning chores.
After a big, hot breakfast, they have a morning meeting and then break up into smaller groups for more farm work. Splitting wood, repairing fences, tending/planting crops, spreading manure, stirring compost, and if you are there in the very early spring you might get a chance to work in the sugar house, boiling down the maple sap for syrup.

There's plenty of time for play, and community time, and snacks.


The evening meal is prepared and shared, then you might go on a sunset hike, or a run on the ridge.


Their weather was good, although a little wet and dreary on the last day.

Dean loved all the farm dogs, all the food, all the time with his friends, and all the work.


This was his second year, and he's grown so much in the course of this past year -- so there was none of the worry about how he would do, so far from home. He's an old hand at it now, at being away from home and enjoying himself and taking care of himself. While I am overjoyed at his independence and happiness and growth, and while I don't make myself crazy with worry, I still miss him terribly when he's gone and struggle to imagine a life, someday, when he's gone more, when he's gone from home.

My neighbor said to me that there's a reason you're not just pregnant for one day, just as there's a reason kids don't leave home until they are about 18 or so -- it's so you have time to get used to the idea, to prepare for your new life.

I know it is what I want for him. I'm even so, so thrilled that he's decided to do a back-packing trip this summer with a group from school.

I just have to figure out how to better use my time and make my own life once he's flown the coop.

Glimpses of a life ahead. I'm in no rush for it.

(I took these photos on his last day there, when I arrived to pick him up.)

Round-up

I am thinking this will be a round-up kind of a post -- collecting together some of my recent goings-on and meant-to-post-abouts.

First, this doll bed that we donated to our school's annual auction:

I had purchased the antique bed itself years ago on eBay. It was part of a set of two; the other I gave to my then-sister-in-law with a tiny handmade quilt on it. I'd always meant to do something similar for myself -- make a darling little quilt then use the whole thing for display. But, as it seems so often happens, I was confronted by the distinction between the life I imagine myself living and the life I actually live. This is the kind of thing the dog would find QUITE tasty, and we've got way more than enough *stuff on display* around our house, and what we really need is less stuff and more storage space for Legos. And I'm good with that. So this doll bed went to the school auction.

I did put together the quilt by (gasp) cutting up a very old quilt top and then hand-quilting it. The quilt top was also from eBay, and it also somehow belonged to some category of thing that seemed to make sense at the time.... It was (is) in wretchedly poor condition and so the best thing I could do was take out a useable chunk of it for this project. The end of the story is a good one, since the bed fetched $100 at the auction and made someone else happy.

In other sewing, I found myself making many of the costumes for Dean's school play (an original musical production of Alice in Wonderland). Dean made a trip to Salvation Army with me to thrift as much as we could, and we came away with a staggering number of *exactly* the right things. After a trip to the fabric store and lots of thinking, I created costumes for Dean, for Humpty Dumpty (see, it IS an original production...), the King of Hearts, two soldiers, and made/fixed parts for the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the March Hare, the Queen of Hearts.... I may be forgetting one or two others. Dean hit the nail on the head when, after I explained the help I needed from him, he said, "how is it that I THOUGHT I had volunteered to do one thing but all of a sudden I'm volunteered to do ALL KINDS of things!?!"

(Dean, as The Caterpillar, with his legs as played by a group of classmates....)

It's the nature of volunteering, I told him; you always have to be prepared to asked to do more, once you show a willingness to do anything at all. I also explained my philosophy that we each of us have a responsibility to volunteer, to be willing to take on the things we are capable of doing with the understanding that there will likely be more to do than we initially imagine -- but that's part of being a good person.

I did catch myself up as I worked my way through the sewing: "Oh, I'll have to take photos of the kids in everything I made and send them to mom because she'll...." Oh. Right. Can't do that. Mom's gone. I was able to bring out a smile from this very sad moment when I realized that making costumes for the school play, and fussing over small details to make them just right, is exactly the way both to honor her spirit and to recognize how she lives on in me. She was costume-maker, set-painter extraordinaire. She also regularly took on mountains of volunteer work and had a way of making good things happen, especially for children.

So it's all good.

Dean, meanwhile, was triumphant in collecting $280 for Dog Orphans through his participation in their annual fundraising walk. Can't help but be proud of this boy.


And yesterday, he played in his first piano competition. Here he is in one of the practice rooms beforehand:

He did not place, but he practiced hard in preparation, he worked through his nerves of having to walk through a very large theater and climb the steps to play a grand piano in front of judges, and he's eager to give it a go again next year. This was exactly what we were hoping for and so in our eyes the experience was a huge success. I'll tell you honestly that it is one thing to say to your child, "it's not about winning, it's about participating, so just do your best and everything will be fine -- and we are very proud of you for being willing to try this" -- and another thing all together to really and truly mean it. Meaning it means not hovering over practices, not insisting on longer practices, and not believing that your skill as a parent is somehow on the line. It also means separating your child's experiences from yourself -- it's his piano playing, not mine. I had to keep reminding myself of these things to keep myself honest.

And now, happy mother's day to all those celebrating.