I was first introduced to the Art of Spinning in Scotland. Staying with an amazing couple in Penicuik, they introduced me to a family friend that spun so much wool that the shelf lining the entire living room was full of spindles of beautifully spun fiber. literally hundreds of spindles. Over the course of an afternoon I got the crash course on how to prep the fiber;  washing, picking, carding and drafting. And then came the best part, the spinning. She loaned me a hand spindle "to learn on" while I stayed in Penicuik. Well....I learned that the art of spinning is quite a challenging one. And at the end of my day, 11pm would find me standing as high as I could possibly get on a chair or table or bed, the higher I could get, the less I had to stop my handspindle; I could let the yarn keep growing and growing. BUT I learned that it sure is disappointing when your yarn busts off at the mid-section  and then all the rest of it uncoils itself. Yes it is truly an art. So in leaving Scotland, I took something like 40 feet of yarn with me, only that forty feet took me almost a week to produce.

I really think that sometimes in life you're just supposed to learn things. And life will just keep pitching those opportunities at you until either A.) you accept or B.) you throw your arms up in the air and run like a bat out of hell. So a year later found me living at the the end of the road, deep in the heart of the Chugach Mountains. A winter care taker at the Eagle River Nature Center. Alaska is different in the winter. It is not like the summer where every place you look there are visitors. No, the people that survive the winter really want to be there, especially those that are willing to make the drive back into the valley in the depths of January. we would get the fire started early. At 10am they would come, a guild  of lovely ladies (and sometimes a fella or two) to spin wool. Bags of fiber in tow they would daintily position their wheels in a semi-circle around the fire.  For two hours, their hands would pull and turn. They welcomed me into their circle and taught me the beginning ropes to the wheel. Now I thought my hand spindle was impressive, but damn if the wheel didn't spin out yarn 50 times faster than my own hands could do it. And so it went, one weekend every month they came and each time I would learn something new.  "Someday" I told myself.

I got a phone call from my mom about 2 weeks ago. She had returned from an amazing trip into the mountains of Colorado. "I got you the best gift ever" but she wouldn't tell me. She left me hanging, I'd just have to see it the next time I came through Colorado. And circumstances played out, Colorado came sooner rather than later and I found myself there this last weekend. I walked into my old room and what sat in the corner? Well a spinning wheel of course. An antique wheel that fits me just perfectly. It's going to require a little doctors visit (I think there has got to be spinning wheel doctors, right?) I'm in love. another hobby. the going joke around these parts is that I need a "dork shed." Yes it is going to contain all my strange hobbies- growing mushrooms, microscopes, my baking experiments........ and now the spinning wheel. I think the dork shed is just going to have to be a yurt.

In Passing

When your footsteps walk a path day in and day out, changing that path can be the most challenging of times. We are learning this. The learning process is hard. But, I think in passing we are also learning what it means to lean on others especially when your legs don't quite feel as sturdy as they always have. We are learning the importance of stories; and the importance of listening.  Who ever claimed that "laughter is sometimes the best medicine" really was onto something. Still, I think it is also important to remember that medicine also comes in the form of letting your eyes rain, especially when you can let them rain with others. Nothing would grow if it never rained. And with the close of a day brings the changing of seasons, and of chapters, and of times. You never know what you'll find when you leave the beaten path.                                           

Celebration

Four years ago found me deep in the Sierra foothills of  California, not far from Murphys. Here I believe fostered my appreciation for wines. Murphys is a quaint town which offers some of the most amazing small scale vineyards, shops and beautiful surroundings. It was here that I discovered my liking for port, and have not since discovered one I like as fondly as the small lots produced by Zucca Mountain Vineyards. But now, as life has moved further north, my palate has shifted to pinots, and rightly so as it is the heart of the Willamette Valley. A whole new perspective has been blessed upon my dinner table, a diversity in a single varietal that I never could have wrapped my mind around any other way than living in just this place. This past weekend, in fine celebration of M's engagement, we brushed the surface of the local wineries, a craftily chosen five of over 400 located here in this region. A favorite of the bunch, Brooks, which bestowed upon us a private tasting, an amazing host and a flight of wines that would please any connoisseur. A Lovely way to celebrate, enjoy and experience....

people

I'm convinced. One of the finest joys in life come from watching others. One of these days I going to make someone very angry with my camera. not on purpose of course. but yes the day will arrive that the person I take a picture of will actually not be so stoked on the notion. they will tell me about it.  But that is okay. People are at their very finest when they don't realize they are under the lens, When my picture is being taken, it makes me feel like i'm under a microscope too. I understand. yet I think the idea of pictures, a moment frozen in time, are invaluable. they capture what our memory cannot always contain and what are eyes sometimes fail to recognize.

There is a man at the market that plays the fiddle. He might just be my favorite. Maybe not so much because of his music. no, I think more so because he is he. At that very moment he is perfect. The other night, riding home late on bikes I came across a scene I longed my camera for but accepted the memory as a close second option. I watched a woman in a white dress soulfully play a violin. barefoot, she moved only to the changing of the pitch. In front of her stood a man. black suit and tie. two feet in front of her. nothing else mattered at that moment. The moment was perfect. It defined every essence of beauty I could possibly dream up. Take time out of your walk, your busy day. 10 seconds. stop and look around you next time you are in a crowd of people. you never know what your eyes may see.  

the love-love situations

 
                                        Oregon Wheat Fields

Some people have cats and dogs; I have ladies.  Still some days off from laying; soon.... They were Easter babies, hand picked out from multiple smelly bins of fluffy tufts that ran around on spindly toothpick legs. they slept in the bedroom for the first few nights until it was quickly determined that sleep+light+peeping babies is not an equitable formula. So out they went to the laundry room where they lived until the Rubbermaid nest could no longer contain them. Home now? a backyard wilderness of sorts complete with red chicken coop. perfect. So this is another one of the projects that so heartily fills the Corvallis time. What's more... I wrote not long ago about the wonder of the appearing plums in the backyard. oh they only scratched the surface of my backyard explorations. What could possibly be better than 100's of mini plums? Why a fig tree of course. I had never in my life eaten a ripe fig off a tree. Turns out when your neighbor's tree overhangs your fence and they  show minimal interest on the horizon in the plump round ripening green orbs, well now life is in your favor. damn fresh figs are good. I gave myself a belly ache three days in a row to the point I had to actually physically remove myself from under the tree for lack of any self-control over fig consumption. A love-hate (read love-love) situation.  

Color me Carrot

too lovely not to share

Waiting for them to fall

 Another step in the year of food preservation... what excites me almost more than these blueberries? We got a deep freezer! translation = hand picked food for the winter & no more booby traps set as we open our months stuffed small indoor freezer. I recently brought back fish from my month up north and had just about pushed the three shelved wonder out of commission. but no more.

Often I'm asked "how do you like Corvallis?" my response 7 months ago was very different than it is today. It is like a bit of a treasure box. you have to keep your eyes open and that is when you start to find all the secrets. The day I got home T send me out back to our patio and told me to look around..... Nothing other than confusion. "take two steps forward and look down" still confusion. "look harder." what sat there but a small red round ball. "pick it up and eat it" T told me. It was a wee plum. Our tree out back had started to fruit these amazingly tasty little bits of yumminess. About twice a day we go out and are greeted by 10 new plums that are perfectly ripe and sweet which have made their way from the high branches. We look like monkeys outside collecting them. Even the dogs are getting down on the action. We joked last night that we have 5 competitors for the goods. I'm a pretty savvy one, I even monkeyed my way up the tree in my dress and shook the branches until I got so entangled I was forced back to the ground or would have donated my dress to the tree as a peace offering. I guess I'm impatient.

Saturday found C and I at a organic pick your own blueberry patch just a few miles from my house. I'd never seen it before. In 45 minutes we had managed something like 20 lbs of blueberries. The giant berries were literally falling off the bushes. We continued our weekend excursion to a few local wineries. Many out here are family owned and located on a farm of sorts. They are just lovely. We debated trying to visit all the Oregon ones in the next year to come but were quickly shut down by the realization that there are over 450. We'd really be lushes. C picked up a winery tour map and we've compromised our original plan to hitting up a few in each location. A more manageable endeavor. The day continued to a friends house to try their newest home brew experiment. "We gave this one a protein rest" they happily explained. Oh how I love living amongst fellow scientists!

C later helped me sort and clean the berries which Sunday operations turned them into freezer packs, dehydrated berries and jars of goodness. T even put up some heady jars of pickles. We've realized once the canner is up and going we best make the most of it. It turns into quite the kitchen process. The experimental batch; a blueberry, plum and honey compote. I have a gut feeling I will be happy with it come December on waffles. 

For my birthday last year my cousin gave me a book called "the complete book of home preserving." I LOVE this book. It has served as a great reference guide to modern canning. Not only does it cover the basics but it also offers new and fun ideas to putting up everyday fruits and vegis. Highly recommended to my fellow crunchy friends out there. I was blessed with growing up in a family that never put down this art. I can remember from a very young age "beet time." you could tell it was summer when the baskets were full of beets and zucchini from the garden and the kitchen smelled of fresh cut vegis and vinegar. This past time has now followed me into adulthood, my mother donating her canning pot to my Oregon efforts. to those who have a desire to learn- there is nothing better than opening up your own jar of jam on freezing cold day of winter and remembering how warm and lovely it was outside the day you put it up.

reflection

Sometimes order is Chaos but oh how I love it so.....

summer is almost dark

Where did the time go? One month. I saw the stars two nights ago for the first time in 4 weeks. And after all of that; I realize how much you can truly fit into 30 days. kayaks and lonely beaches, Microscopes and children, rain and sunshine, yoga and bicycles, alpine and sand, new land. I spent my last night in Alaska with two dear Colorado friends who also will begin their journey south after spending a year in the land of wild. this time was different. I feel like a tourist. Am i happy? indeed. I had never spent a summer on the road systems; following campers and watching people's eyes light up as they pull over on the turnigan arm to take pictures 4 feet from the highway. I feel privileged to have the experience of new places. to share these places. and so off again to Oregon. Another year.