the upside of a damp summer

Actually, to say this summer has been a damp one, well, that's not really painting a very accurate picture of what it's been like. Torrential might be a better word. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm. We haven't made much progress on our rain garden simply because every few days it gets filled up with sand that is washed down the drive (leftover from years of sanding the road above us we suspect). Our creeks gush and churn, white and rapid instead of languid and slow the way they were last summer. We've probably put down twenty pounds of grass seed through the summer in an attempt to grass up the area that used to be the driveway but I would guess that only a quarter of that has gotten the chance to root before it's been washed away.

But on the upside, there have been benefits too. The cool days and cooler nights. Knitting and reading away Saturdays when it's too rainy to go outside. The green green everywhere. No burnt summer grass or dry crinkly woods here. It's lush and fresh and beautiful.

And an orchid which has sat, unwatered (literally) for years now. I kept it for the leaves, never thinking that I could get it to bloom again and then one day I walked by to find a new shoot reaching toward the window. I've watched it, each day, as the buds grew and swelled, wondering if it really would bloom until today, when I came down stairs to find one perfect, pink blossom. A Friday greeting to remind me that there is always an upside to the storm.

summer days

I've been a terrible blogger these days. I have no excuse. I suppose I have nothing exciting to share, it being the lazy part of the summer with nothing much more on the plate besides wandering down to the creek or out to the lake. Or perhaps it's just that we are too busy doing the things of summer for me to stop and write. Mixing working from home with summer fun does tend to fill up the days, not with anything exciting, just the stuff of living. It's so much more fun to putter down to the store and have a Popsicle by the creek than to sit at the computer and work after all. So when I do sit down it's to frantically meet a deadline.

Hoping you are having a lovely summer Friday out there.

on a mountain

An evening hike. A "picnic hike" Evelyn called it. Up to Lincoln Gap and onto the Long Trail until we found Sunset Rock. I'm not sure you could find a nicer view. Blissful. Although next time I'll pack the food in a backpack instead of a basket. It'll be easier to handle the steep parts with two hands.

favorite things

The lovely thing about a phone camera is the ability to capture all those moments when you don't have the time or the hands or the forethought to pull out the actual camera. And sometimes those are the best memories of all. Out of focus, off kilter, thumb in the way - doesn't matter. First taste of a Burgerville strawberry shake, seasoned traveller,  afternoon at OMSI, Powell's for the first time in six years, happy couple, silly flowergirls, Ramona's street - really really, and right down the road from the house you lived in once upon a time. Papa Haydn desserts with old friends, siblings saying goodbye at the airport, just for a week, but there were still tears. And yes, yes that is a bicycle powered mobile bar roaming the streets of Portland. You may thing Portlandia is over the top jokes and no place could really be that crazy but I'm telling you, they haven't even brushed the surface of all the weird things you see there (did you know there is a self cleaning house in Portland?)

poppa time

I wish my parents lived closer all year long. It's been wonderful having them just down the road for the past month and now that we are in our last days of this trip I can already tell how strange it will be without them here. No more making crazy google-eye creatures with Nana when it's raining or big everybody-pile-in-the-car-lets-go-explore trips for a while (or having my mom here for evening knit/crochet time, which has been bliss). We are so lucky that they can come for a good long stay so I suppose I should be happy with that, but oh, how lovely it would be if they were always close by.

Earlier this week, during breaks from building a treehouse in the yard (when it wasn't raining)  and a new wall in the basement (when it was raining), my dad sat down on the floor of the sunporch with the kids and taught them how to play marbles. I remember clearly when he taught me, explaining about cats-eyes and shooter and how to hold your thumb just right for a good shot. About how the playground at his school had pre-marked circles for for marble playing and how I wished mine did too.

The low pile carpet in the sunroom made an excellent marble pitch and we've had several intense games since, and our marble collection, which was just a small bag of clear marbles, has grown into a more impressive set with a pink (naturally) shooter for Evie and a green one for Briton and some pretty, colorful marbles in the mix. Lucky us, to have a Poppa who will sprawl on the floor for a match and go hunting on a rare sunny morning in all the little shops around here till he found someone who sold marbles just to make the game that much better.

first harvest

We've had a somewhat dismal summer in terms of sunshine. I'm not really complaining, I know most of the country is broiling and we are still at the blissful highs mostly in the 70's stage of summer, which is nice but boy is it wet. The lack of sun, the lack of dry days where we can get out and take down the trees that are blocking the little sun we are getting in the garden and the crazy (CRAZY) amounts of rain mean that our garden, instead of providing the vast amounts of vegetables and herbs for eating and preserving that I dreamed about this winter, is waterlogged and looking a little sad. The only thing rocketing along are the potatoes, maybe I should have just planted potatoes.

The rain has also washed away much of the local strawberry harvest. Picking started late and ended abruptly less than two weeks later. My mom and I went out on the (surprisingly sunny) last day that any strawberry farm within driving distance was open for picking and brought home 17 pounds of berries. They aren't as sweet as I'd like, what can you expect when they didn't get much sun, and I had to go with full strength pectin instead of lemon juice or low sugar pectin because I worried about getting it to set, but an evening of topping, chopping, mashing and cooking and we are stocked for the year with 18 jars of ruby red strawberry jam. The jam shelf in my make shift-basement stair landing pantry (it's on the project list to expand the couple of shelves into a much bigger, nicer pantry soon) is half full as the strawberry joined the rest of the marmalade and a few jars of apple butter from the fall. I love seeing bursting with mason jar pantry shelves. I suspect that if I want to keep filling up my shelves with home canned goodies I'll be doing more pick-your-own and farmers market buying instead of picking from my garden, but oh well. All that rain keeps it green here, right?

day trip: fort ticondaroga

The lovely thing about having the grandparents come for a visit, aside from the fact that it's just nice to have my parents around for a good long stay, is that it give us an excuse to do a little bit of touristing. We're not really the type to shy away from playing the tourist in our own town (or state) but it's easy to think "oh we'll do that next summer. Today we'll paint a wall." Will and I have been meaning to take the kids to Fort Ticonderoga since we drove past it with out moving van but we've never managed to do it. So it's a good thing the grandparents are in town to make us go at last.

We took the slightly longer way there. Through rolling farm land and over one of the oldest (maybe the oldest) ferry crossings in the US to the fort. A long, hot (for here) afternoon in the sun of exploring and sitting on cannons and gazing out at the lake and watching soldiers march and fire and sew their own period perfect clothing.

My family went on a lot of these kind of excursions when I was a kid. Living history museums, old forts and villages. They kind of all blend into one long summer vacation in my mind and were, I'm absolutely sure, key in making me a history nut. Something I hope to pass on to my kids, who, with only slight bribing of a creemee at the end, explored right along with us and asked very good questions. Like, "Were there bathrooms or did they just pee off the wall?" (of course, what else would a ten year old boy ask?)

and it's summer

Laissez les bon temps rouler! (I've only been told once so far that I am "RUINING SUMMER" by making them read everyday. What a mean mommy!)

small town fun

Last night, with a baked-from-our-chicken's-eggs (!) quiche in hand and Evelyn dressed to the nines (the rest of us went with normal weekend wear) we took ourselves down to the town hall for a potluck dinner, concert and square dance. For a village so small you might miss it if you blinked, we have an amazing range of talented musicians. Honest to goodness opera singers, people who gave up Carnegie Hall to come live in the woods. A local music series that is packed with mindblowingly great performers. Did I tell you about the time Marie Von Trapp's granddaughter led us in singing Edelweiss? Yes, really.

This time it was Red Tail Ring. Who are not local but are related to (also amazing musically talented) locals. I'm not a big country music girl but I love bluegrass and that kind of 1930's music that filled the movie "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou." And this was that kind of music. Toe tappingly fun.

No one takes themselves too seriously around here. There was, and I'm not joking, a brain shaped jello on offer at the potluck. So no big poofy skirts (other than Evie) and no real professionals. The caller talked us all through each dance before we started and I'm sure we looked less than graceful, but oh was it fun. Briton was asked to dance by a high school girl (thank goodness for sweet high school girls!) which was the highlight of his weekend, not that he would admit it. And Evie pretty much never sat down, whirling and spinning and laughing, right in her element. We danced on the old sprung floor where they used to hold town meetings, surrounded by faded sepia photos of the town long ago and spindley wooden benches and less pretty yellow plastic chairs and I couldn't help but think Yes. This is why I love this place.