Mushrooms

I love mushrooms. I'm not going to eat any of these.... yet. I think one is edible, but not worth the risk.
I live/run in the woods, and these beauties all came out after it rained. They're gone with the frost now.
They are as beautiful as roses to me, which makes me just like Oscar the Grouch, in a small way.

Roots

I took these at a street fair in Albany, California.  They caught my eye because I enjoy Art Neuveau.  A selection of roots is different than a selection of seasonal goddesses,  in a more down-to-earth way.

Enjoy!

Euchre Bar

I've been hiking with a group of geezers for a few months.  My favorite geezer is my dad, whose real name is Papa, but really they are all wonderful.

These are some photos of a hike we took today, to a footbridge on the North Fork of the American river.  What I love about hiking, with these guys especially, is that there is so much to discover.  There are small stories, big stories, and mysteries all around (which is why I brought my camera).

It was only a 4 mile hike, but it was 1700 feet down to the river and back.  Don't let anyone tell you down is easier than up!

Here is our hike from my perspective:

My dad makes a plan, because that's what he does.

Note the bit of mist in the river basin.

The fancy trial signage.

Down!  Give me a break, literally.

We caught up to the mist.

Forest service foot bridge for....a lady in her 30's and 6 guys in their 60's?
Your  (or your grandparent's) tax dollars at work.

Mystery memorial.  Don't look down. 

The Basement

This looks like a basement to you.   That's because it is a basement, but it has had wonderful things come to life in the past, besides mold.  It is the basement of my elementary school.  I snuck down there today while the students I was the 'guest teacher' for, were at music.  'Guest teacher' is the new substitute teacher.  I can take latter: 'substitute teacher', because I'm super tough and can play guitar and sing fun songs with students.

This room is the reason.  In fourth grade, 1985, I had the chance to learn to play an instrument for the band.  It's  the same year of school kids learn a bunch of valuable math, which I was not getting.  The first thing that happened when I learned to read music, was I learned what a fraction was (4/4 time, 6/8 time, trust me).  The second was where that sound I was hearing belonged.  Notes have names and places!  Eureka!

I'm guessing this is the only room at the school the other teachers could tollerate nine year olds learning to play the clarinet, trumpet and flute.  This is the room I learned about music.  

I'm not a rock star or an opera singer.  I sing several times a week to elementary school kids, community choir members, hospice patients, wine and beer drinkers, and church goers.  Because I make music, I met my husband in choir.  Because I sing, I've been all over the world.  Because I sing, I can be a part of something bigger than myself.  Because of music I've worked with some of the best people I know, in a meaningful way.  Certainly, it started with 'Holly Jolly Christmas', counting in four four time, in marching band.

The year I learned flute was the same year California was flooded from stem to stern because of rain.  The basement was flooded during some of the school year.  The boiler room for the school is in the next room (loud).  The basement is always cold.  Looking at it today, I can envision it as it actually was, not as it truly was.  It truly was a place where black lines and dots made sense to me.  It was a place where I could find myself.  This place was my nest.  Actually, it is a basement.

Now it is full of boxes, concret blocks, sidewalk salt, canisters, and teaching supplies.  It still smells the same.

Signs and Wonders

Photo by http://prfrank.com/

Our family visited New York City to see the sites.  It is a huge and amazing city.  I continuously reminded myself to shut my gaping mouth as my jaw dropped, out of wonder, excitement, and confusion.  

We were not the only people who have been confused by such a big and intense city.  There are signs every few yards to instruct people.   It can be confusing, but I'm not sure if the signs helped terribly.  

My son stands under a sign.  What a rebel. 

My most favorite sign EVER!
This should be taught after the Golden Rule
(and I don't mean, "No Standing".   Can you sit during business hours?)

Another sign stated, "No One Under 12 Years Old Allowed".  It was in the entryway to a funeral home.  I didn't snap a photo, but it too was confusing.  My thought is, no one under 96 years old should be allowed in a funeral home.   I'm sure they meant the living, which is also silly.  Living, as well as dying, are activities kids shouldn't be sheltered from!  Kids have access to terrible images and ideas before they are 12, but shouldn't be allowed at their grandmother's funeral?

Death is rather serous, and I'm not in a serious mood, so I'll close with another confusing-sign story:

As a child, the most confusing road sign was, "Do Not Pass".  Why does the road continue beyond the sign if you aren't supposed to pass by it?

Accordion for Breakfast

I thought I was hilarious waking my children with my accordion playing.

I assumed the funny part would be my children's surprised reaction, yet the funny part was my children's non-reaction.

What does this say about my children's expectations of me?  They rolled over in bed, and the words unspoken were, "Yup, that's my mom, she thinks she's funny.  Harumph."

Sea Glass Beach

In Fort Bragg, California, I visited a beach covered in polished glass pieces. Instead of sand: glass. It's soft, rounded, alive and colorful.

For decades the residence of Fort Bragg disposed of garbage into the sea at the northern part of town. You can see how they drove their cars to the edge of the sea cliff and pushed.  The ocean is the world's garbage dump, even if it is incomprehensibly big.

In 1968 this antiquated trash disposal ended. In the meantime, all of the glass from their cars, windows, mayonnaise jars and, what seems to be for the most part, beer bottles, has been washed into beauty (people also picked up much of the rubbish).

In a time when we can't breathe without being bombarded with sarcasm disgusted as hope, and fear masquerading as reform, this beautiful sea scape bolstered my spirits. Yes, people are messing up the world, yet it carries on, despite us. Our environment is not beyond repair and repentance. Check the stats on the Bald Eagle since the 1980's. There is hope without an agenda and reform without fear.

This small space of water, land and glass reminded me of that bigger hope. There is so much more mystery here that we can not comprehend.

Things that are toxic and dangerous can be diluted and cleaned: even made beautiful.  Though people are responsible for the problems, we are creative enough to be a part of the answer, the rest is a mystery.

Yours, Mine and Ours: Summer at Home

I took the summer off from blogging. Now summer is un-officially-officially over. I replaced blogging with summer. It was rich with adventure and people, both of which, I love. We did not leave the state: unless you count the east side of Tahoe as Nevada, which I don't because it is too beautiful to be Nevada.
In the woods near my house are three trees: Douglas fir, oak and cedar. They are growing so close that they nearly are braided together. They are thriving and old. As I run by them on my jogs, I'm reminded of my summer at home. Your people, my people and our people all growing up and together.

Pre.S.  These photos are not in chronological order because this Google blog GUI stinks and I'm too lazy to edit the HTML. Yes, my husband is a software engineer and no, I'm not as nerdy as him, but some of it has rubbed off on me.

Here are the three trees with our sweet friends and family.

Fast friends visit from Virginia for a snowy visit to Tahoe in June.

The kids learn to swim on the swim team!

Old friends introduce us to new friends!

The kids learn to sail!

A great kid lives with us!

The boy turns 12 at our family reunion.  His voice is changing!

We spend time with my new nephew.  I'm in love!

We spend time with my busy niece.  I'm in love!

We show our Czech and Ohioan friend the great redwood forests.
Or, just the Ohioan see the trees, everyone else can't see.

We learn about keeping bees and not getting stung.

We hike with my dad!

We cap it off with a visit to the NorCal coast.

Two Overs

I was running in the forest near my house when I came upon a woman who looked as if she knew where she was going.  We ran by each other twice, and she didn't seem like the predator-type.  She didn't look like a murderous, pistol packing jogger so I stopped her to ask if I was on the right trail.

She was middle aged, in sporty jogging clothes and had a streak of purple in her dark hair.  She was jogging with business cards, and her skin hung from her body as if she had lost a lot of weight.  Once I stopped her, I knew my mistake.  I wished I could jog a few extra lost miles to escape the conversation that I saw coming.  My predator light started blinking.

This woman uses her jogs to sell diet pills and shakes.  She gave me her sales pitch:  look at me, I used to be so fat, now I'm sporty and running and have 7 kids, I drink these shakes and take these pills and look how good I look, I'm so pretty now, and how sporty I am now.......

I politely told her that I live a clean life.  I eat my veggies, stay active, drink water and would rather do it my way.  Then she did something amazing: she looked at me and saw me.  Up and down and said, "Well, you're not over-over weight".

My human brain stopped working and the primal-me, the one who doesn't use her frontal lobes, reeled.  OVER-OVER WEIGHT?  Really, did she say that? One 'over' would be a compliment and even the truth, but two was a lie to sell me diet pills and shakes.

This is me from top to bottom, not being over-over weight.

In my defense I was much heavier when I was younger and having babies.  Now, I'm leaner.  I work hard to be leaner and yet at the same time, I'm not comparing myself to anyone, I'm not trying too hard, and I'm not perfect (just like you).  This woman made me want to compare myself to her, to steal the joy from what could have been a friendly conversation in a beautiful forest.  She had already stollen it.

She handed me her card with her number and name, which a mile later I tucked under an old stump (don't tell the park rangers).  Before I was able to escape she told me, "Oh, I also own a salon and we specialize in curly hair."  My hair is actually awesome.  I think I'll just keep running.

Century Run

Several years ago I started running for exercises.   I started because it is a cheap way to get my heart-rate up, and if you live somewhere beautiful, like I do, it's a great way to get outdoors.  Those reasons do not make me a great runner, or even good.  I am not built like a runner:  I'm slow, I'm big, I walk up steep hills, if it's too cold I stay in, if it's too hot I stay in, if I'm injured I stay in, and what's more, I get headaches if I push myself under any of the aforementioned scenarios. (look at the stats in the photo to get an idea of my running mediocrity)  People have to really like me to go running with me.  I'm worth being with, but not as much on a run.

All those problems aside, I ran 100 miles!  I have run several times 100 miles over the last 3 years, but my phone didn't tell me.  I feel like I won an award, just looking at the number 100!  There are a few things/people I would like to thank for my milestone:

• My phone
• My shoes
• My headphones
• Teagan and Sara, Daft Punk, David Crowder Band, Bach
• My legs
• The trails, trees, birds, and sky that call me outside
• Clean and delicious water and food

I have more to say about running, and I will, but just not today.  Also, don't ask me how long it took me to run 100 miles.  The main reason is I don't know, but I do know it was a long time!!

I Would do Anything for Love

Today I found a bird while working in the yard.  It's no secret that I suffer from an irrational fear of birds.  I've blogged about it.  It was small, wounded or sick, and hopping around.  In a crazy-mom-move, I put the pets in the garage, got the bird book and the kids and we went out to figure out what kind of bird was sick in the yard.  

They were so excited to save a small life.  I was excited for them, but not to confident that the bird would recover.  I might have even been ambivalent scared.  Imagine my good fortune to live directly next door to the head of the Sierra Audubon society.  He is a bird lover, and I have told him I'm no good with birds.  I sent the kids over there for his help.  

He gave us the number for the wild-life rescue association in town, and we took the bird there only seconds after I figured out the kids were not going to let the bird's life be up to fate/nature.  This got the bird out of range of flying near me, and made them small heros.  

They made the calls, they filled out the paperwork, they captured the Black Gross Beak.  It turns out that the small juvenile bird was not sick, or injured, just tired.  He was too young to fly all the way with the adults, so he took a rest in my flower bed.  

Hopefully he will be flying the skies soon, after a nap and a sandwich.  I proved to myself that I would do anything for love, even if there are small flying creatures involved.

Also, if you are a Meatloaf fan, you might remember his hit, "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that".  It reminded me of today, except for the last bit of the title.  Warning: it has the words 'sex', 'drugs', and 'rock-and-roll'.  Be warned!

Potato Tower Update

The potatoes in the tower are budding. I would be excited, but they would do that in the cupboard. My experiment is still in the trial phase.
The greens in top (which appear yellow, not green, as they are covered with pollen) are nearly ready. They will be our 'first fruits'.

I Carry Your Heart

Fetal Attraction

This an article by Robert Krulwich about how fetal cells transfer into his or her mother.  Little bits of my babies are in my body.  It's science!  

I had a feeling this was true before I heard about the science.  Moms know this truth even before science can discover it.  When I look at my kids, I feel a part of them in me, still.

I love science.  

This article reminds me of a poem that I used to think was the perfect way to describe the love I have for my husband.  As I have loved him more and more, and loved people more and more, I have changed my mind about this poem.  For me now, it is about my children. 

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Maiden Voyage

We took our trailer to Tahoe.  I can suggest going to Tahoe at the beginning of May, or in October.  People forget that they want to flock to the lake, and it was mostly left to us.  We spent some time hiking towards the Desolation Wilderness, until the snow covered the trail.  We ate home cooked food and washed off in a hot shower.  We came home refreshed and happy!  The cold nights weren't a bother, and we learned all the workings of the Airstream.

I wasn't expecting to have other campers want a tour of the trailer, but it is cute and fun, so they wanted a look.  Good thing we are so friendly.   

Chocolate Liberty

   

Photo by P.R.Frank

This week my friend sent me this photo as he led students on a trip to NYC.  It reminded me of a story:

When I was in elementary school the Statue of Liberty was refurbished and celebrated its 100th birthday.  On the shirt-tails of the media hype, and to earn money, our school sold mini chocolate Statue of Liberties.  They were akin to Easter chocolate bunnies, but more patriotic.

I sold a few to friends and neighbors and was given them in a brown grocery bag to transport home on the school bus.  They came with a stern warning not to take them out of the bag, or box, or touch them, or look at them sideways until they were safely in their paying owner's possession.

Not five minutes into a forty minute bus ride, I had all of them out, on the green bus seat, admiring them: the shiny plastic window, the blue box, and mostly, the amount of chocolate in my private possession.  

Not 6 minutes into the forty minute bus ride, the engine of my big yellow school bus caught on fire.  The driver pulled over in a cloud of smoke, and the big kids in the back pulled open the emergency door.  The driver told all of us to leave the bus as quickly and orderly as possible and to leave all our things on the bus. 

I felt my eight year old heart pounding in my ears.   It was pounding with fear, yes, but mostly with guilt.  There was the empty brown bag, all the chocolate in a heap on the seat, and most of the bus length between me and the emergency exit.  Did I leave the chocolate on the seat and expose my rebellion?  Did burn up in an exploding school bus?  These were the questions my adrenaline was pushing through my mind.

I scrambled to stuff the chocolate back into the bag and exit through the back, just as the driver doused the fire with an extinguisher.  Mrs. Fitzpatrick would never know.  I sacrificed my safety for chocolate.

I stood in a line with the other students, our backs to the trashy miner's cabins that would soon be torn down, and waited for the rescue bus.

Still to this day, when I see that green statue, my stomach does a flip from the memory of the fire and the guilt.

Adventure Choir

I'm nearly certain that this child is one-in-a-million.  She might be the only child on record to break her toe while at choir.  Last night we had to get her early because she hurt herself.  This morning it is bruised, swollen and clearly broken.  She broke it while on a break, on the slide.

I have been told to roll her in bubble wrap, and I just might need to, if it is my job to keep her alive until she is an adult.