Mom and I used Labor Day weekend to take another shot at this canning and preserving business. Last year it was pickles. This year we tackled a much more reasonable quantity of cucumbers, and added tomatoes to the mix. We canned tomatoes, and also made salsa. It took us all weekend to get it done. Friday night we peeled garlic (and peeled garlic, and more garlic, and more garlic), washed dill, washed cucumbers, read and reread our pickle recipe and canning tips, loaded the jars in the dishwasher, and talked through our process.
Most of Saturday was about pickles. But we were much more efficient and organized than we were last year. We also did one batch of tomatoes before heading out for dinner. The tomatoes were a pain in the butt...they have to be in the canning bath for SO LONG. Especially since we were canning at 7,500 feet above sea level, we had to add another 20 minutes to all the canning times.
When we got back from dinner we were over it for the day, so we watched a movie instead.
Sunday was salsa, which was easy and fun.
This past week we made and preserved applesauce and apple butter.
Sadie watched movies and played, and mostly let us do our thing. And every year I'm hoping she'll be able to (and interested) in helping more and more.
Oh my gosh, what happened to July?? The last time I was actively blogging it was about things that happened in mid-June, and now here we are in August! Oy. Time sure flies when you're having the time of your life. And boy have I been.
Let's see. At the end of June we enjoyed a couple rare, unscheduled, mostly-close-to home weekends. We blew up Sadie's pool and drank beer in the driveway with our neighbors.
We (and by we I mean the neighborhood men) put together Sadie's new playhouse.
We celebrated our nephew Elias' baptism and enjoyed a short, but lovely visit with Brian's aunt and uncle who were visiting from California.
We had dinner at my brother and sister-in-law's house and visited with my aunt and uncle who live in town but we don't see nearly as often as I'd like to.
Oh, and we have a new family member! Brian's beautiful new Brooks Masten Fretless Banjo. Yay for more handmade, acoustic instruments! Love love love that....
The first weekend in July found us spending some time in Colorado Springs with our dear friends the Noleens. We also took Sadie to Boulder's Dinner Theater for the first time. It's an annual tradition for my family, and I've been dreaming of bringing Sadie with us as soon as she was old enough. Well, this summer's production of Cinderella seemed like the PERFECT opportunity! Needless to say, my little princess was in heaven.
And then it was time to kiss my family goodbye, give them a few extra squeezes, throw my pack on my back and get on the plane (by myself!) to Paducah, Kentucky. More on that in the next post....
After making a brief appearance at work upon my return from the aforementioned 10-day trip, and getting hit by a pretty big emotional hammer due to some intensity in my loved one's lives, we were back to living the good life in "festival land". Rockygrass was utterly divine this year, as it always is. And coming off said emotional hammering, I absolutely soaked and reveled in all the beauty that was around me. Moments of particular musical brilliance; watching my daughter hug, kiss, and generally and love on neighbors and friends and strangers; running alone along the St. Vrain River early Saturday morning and keeping my eyes open for a bear who I knew was nearby; drinking mead and visiting with like-minded festival mamas; curling up in my husband's lap while watching this band play this song on stage and letting all the emotion of a very hard and heartbreaking day pour out of me (Love and love and nothing else, is all I need)...these are the moments I treasure at a festival.
Festivating with an infant was easy. I wore the baby everywhere I went and during everything I did, including into the port-a-potty and while setting up and taking down camp. She nursed and I festivated. Easy. But the next two years were anything but easy. Festivating with a new 1-year-old walker and a rambunctious, newly independent (and not very focused on listening) 2-year-old were NOT SO EASY. And while festivating with a 3-year-old is certainly exhausting, and not anything at all like festivals in our pre-parents days...this (so far) has been by far my favorite festival season yet. Sadie is so comfortable and understanding of the music and camping scene, that she sleeps well, listens well, and really gets into the whole vibe of the thing. AND, whereas in past years, we lived and died by her taking a nap and getting to bed by 8 p.m....now she can (finally!) go without a nap without completely losing her mind, and bedtime rules and routines can definitely be flexible while at a festival.
On Friday night of the festival, Brian was exhausted, so he and Sadie both crawled into the tent by about 9 p.m. The glowsticks came out on Saturday night, and Sadie and her friend Beau ran each other ragged until about 9:30 p.m. in the festival grounds while we parents enjoyed the music and kept an eye on the kiddos. I could tell that Sadie was getting tired when she sat down in the middle of playtime facing away from the stage. I invited her to crawl into my lap and she was asleep in moments. I watched the rest of the set while she slept peacefully on my chest. She went right back to sleep when we got back to the tent and slept all night.
But my very favorite was the last night of the festival. All our festival buddies were gone, it was raining, and one of my top-three-favorite-of-all-time musicians, Tim O'Brien, was closing out the festival. Sadie and I were fresh out of a nice warm shower and in our comfy clothes and raingear. Brian and I found a nice spot to sit where we could see the stage, we spread a tarp across our laps, Sadie crawled into the "fort" formed between our chairs, and promptly fell asleep. I cannot put into words the pure bliss I felt as a light Colorado rain fell on my family as we watched and absorbed the beautiful music coming to us from stage. Sitting there with my loving husband while our beautiful, perfect daughter slept peacefully between us, was one of the happiest moments of my life. Truly.
Another high point of the festival....Sadie and I sat down in the front row of the sheltered theater on the festival grounds to watch Red Molly's set. Sadie, again, was completely entranced by the beautiful women in the beautiful dresses and boots. She wanted to pretend she was singing like they were. LOVE that she gets so into watching women on stage!
Anyway, this about sums up how I feel in my heart about things right now. Despite a lot of pain and sadness all around these days, I'm never far from this....
May I suggest
May I suggest to you
May I suggest this is the best part of of your life
May I suggest
this time is blessed for you
this time is blessed and shining almost blinding bright
just turn your head
and you’ll begin to see
the thousand reasons that were just beyond your sight
the reasons why
why I suggest to you
why I suggest this is the best part of your life
there is a world
that’s been addressed to you
addressed to you, intended only for your eyes
a secret world
a treasure chest to you
of private scenes and brilliant dreams that mesmerize
a tender lover’s smile
a tiny baby’s hands
the million stars that fill the turning sky at night
Oh I suggest
Yes I suggest to you
Yes I suggest this is the best part of your life
There is a hope
that’s been expressed in you
the hope of seven generations, maybe more
this is the fate
that they invest in you
it’s that you’ll do one better that was done before
inside you know
inside you understand
inside you know what’s yours to finally set right
and i suggest
and i suggest to you
and i suggest this is the best part of your life
this is a song
comes from the west to you
comes from the west, comes from the slowly setting sun
this is a song
with a request of you
to see how very short the endless days will run
and when they’re gone
and when the dark descends
we’d give anything for one more hour of life
Within a year of moving into our current home, I was lucky enough to stumble upon a true gem in my community, the Sanctuary Center. I was out driving the back roads in our area, as I like to do when getting to know a new place, and saw a small stucco building that piqued my interest. Imagine my sheer joy when I realized what this building was all about.
The Sanctuary Center is a place dedicated to quiet reflection and self discovery. It encompasses several acres with gardens, benches, and statues. There's a nice gazebo with table and chairs, and the building itself is so lovely. There's a lending library, artwork, a guest book, and a basket of gratitude stones. The inner room is octagonal in shape, painted beautifully, and is a perfect place to sit quietly and reflect or listen or pray. There aren't any staff members or caretakers at the facility; it's open to the public from dawn till dusk and operates on pure trust.
A feature of the Santuary House that we've never visited is the labyrinth. A few weeks ago, the three of us took the short drive and visited the labyrinth for the first time. Sadie loved looking at all the treasures that were scattered around the rocks, buried in the sand, and hanging from the trees. She somewhat got into the idea of walking quietly and thinking or singing as we walked the path toward the center. We'll keep working on that....
I just feel so thankful that this wonderful place is right in my community and available for us to use and enjoy and I look forward to continuing to use it as a resource for my family in the years to come.
When I lived in Fairbanks, Alaska, the land of the midnight sun, and also the land of the long, cold winters, both the summer and winter solstices were days to reflect and celebrate. More than anywhere else I've spent time, these two days marked VERY important turning points in our lives. The winter solstice meant we'd survived the shortest day of the year. Those few, short hours of sun shining low in the sky were so precious to us, and we felt hopeful knowing that although the coldest days of winter were yet to come, the daylight hours would be increasing...and that felt like something to hold on to on the shortest day of the year in Fairbanks. We'd buckle down; seek solace, comfort, and support in each other; and dream of the long, neverending days of summer.
And then summer solstice...oh how we'd celebrate! We wouldn't have seen stars in weeks, for the sun was barely leaving the sky. We had endless, boundless energy for life and each other and nature and everything northern Alaska had to offer us. The long days of winter were far from our minds.
I loved mostly everything about living in Alaska, even (and especially) those long, cold, dark winters. No, really. But one of the things I loved most about my time in Alaska was how my life was lived so closely to nature. Not only because of the drastic seasonal changes that you're subject to when living less than 200 miles south of the Arctic Circle, but seemingly every element of my daily life was more in tune with my natural surroundings.
I ate food (year-round) that was harvested from the wilds of Alaska. I hauled my own water from a natural spring outside of town. In the summer I ate my meals on the porch. I started and ended my days breathing fresh air. In the winter I relished venturing out into the -30 degree and colder temperatures to use the outhouse because it might mean that I would catch the northern lights, or maybe see a mama moose walking through the woods near my cabin. I walked and hiked and ventured and skied and sledded in order to keep my dogs happy and myself sane. I took my clothes off and joined friends in natural hot springs or homemade saunas. I drank and snacked around campfires and picnic tables.
So here I am 11 years after celebrating my last summer solstice in Alaska. I'm hardwired at this point to note the solstice as a holiday. I've been in a reflective mood lately about where I am in my life and today, especially, I find myself evaluating how differently I live my life than I did a decade or more ago.
And obviously, much of it is inevitable. I'm a mother and a wife now. I have a mortgage and bills and a career. Inherent in all of that is more responsibility than I certainly had when I was in my early 20s when I only had to take care of myself and my new puppy and I could spend summer solstice frolicking in the tundra. And clearly the joy that my family brings to my life is worth all the changes that I have been through personally.
And yet, on this summer solstice, I'm spending the day cooped up indoors at work feeling relatively gloomy (due to several other factors). And wondering how I ended up so far away from that lifestyle. Maybe it's that I've spent the last three weekends sleeping in the mountains and the desert. I spend MANY of my precious weekends with friends and family gathering for meals, listening to live music, hiking, camping, and connecting. I manage to squeeze a whole lot of "authentic" living into my weekend days before slogging back to the reality that makes up my week/work days. But today especially I'm feeling sad that the "authentic" life I lived back then in Alaska, and the connected, passionate life I live on the weekends now, can't extend into all my days.
I think that may sound idealistic to many. A lot of people believe that you have to work to make money and support your family and uphold your responsibilities, and you suck it up and get over it if you don't love it all the time. AND...by the way...I do like my job most days. I have an exciting, interesting, intellectually challenging job and I am thankful for its stability and the financial security it offers me and my family.
But I also am lucky to know a lot of people who are spending their days and lives pursuing their passions. I know it's not just idealistic. It's possible. But is it worth it? Is the fact that my career allows me to live a passionate life outside of work enough? Do I need to just suck it up, get over it, put my head down, work hard, and count down the minutes until Friday night? And can I do that for the next 30 years?
I am a wife, mama, daughter, sister, geologist, mandolin player, reader, cook, knitter, gardener, house concert hostess, and festivarian trying to simplify and make the most of this beautiful life.
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