the belly chronicles

all I really need

Well, it's a little crazy around here. We closed on our new house today, so packing now really needs to get DONE.

I wish I had some pictures for you, but I left my camera at the new house. To summarize today . .  80 degrees, a bike ride to the huge playground a block away, a half hour at the creek and in the yard before we set foot in our house, 2 fishing trips in the backyard creek that made us feel SO at home...we have lived close to the Mad River and Garcia River for all the children's lives, except for the brief stint this winter. To have this running water to fish in, throw sticks and rocks, watch the ducks,  and gauge the seasons...truly priceless.

I found this trailer through Kristi . . . let's band together and spread the word: sticks and rocks and clouds and mud and love are really all we need, hmmm?

Pictures to come, I promise. We're at that phase where getting the camera and computer and internet access together could be a bit dicey.

friday night lights

You've probably gathered that I seek the wild, outdoor, healthy, cooperative family atmosphere whenever possible. And at the same time, it is so important to integrate into your home culture, wherever that home may be. So when Papa S suggested the local high school football game as our Friday evening activity, I smiled and went right along.

Isaiah has become enamored with the high school boys walking to and from practice in their tight, dirty uniforms and helmets. (I try not to look) It's about football right now, and he knows he has a legacy in his father, grandfather, and uncle.

The sight we saw as walked to the stadium at start time didn't bode well for the experience. At the end of "The Star-Spangled Banner," we watched about 100 black balloons fill the sky and float to oceans, rivers, fields, and streams everywhere. Hey, ducks and birds and fish and dolphins. . . if you're reading this blog, Resist temptation! It's not food! Could this still happen at a football game anywhere on the West coast? I have a new sense of the meaning of consciousness now. I felt the way I did the other night on the highway coming back from the farm where we passed a glassed-in brightly-lit and crowded CAFO at 9 at night.

Fortunately, things improved when we got settled for our under the lights experience in the stands. Especially for me, because I had the great good sense to bring along this project. More on this project soon, hopefully with Miel "jumping" around in it, never wanting to take it off because she loves it so much.  I hope this helps remind you that so few of us have "time" to craft, but if we always have it with us, there are moments, so many moments, when hands are free and ready to work.

And the game? Well it was homecoming, there was a huge marching band who did a medley from West Side Story (with the homecoming queen conducting from high atop a ladder), and the visiting team creamed the home Rockets. But the bonus, well...unable to find a place perch in the black-clad hormonal sea of the home side, we ended up on the visitor side, where the Rockettes dance team strode onto the field and took their starting posefor about 3 minutes while they awaited their music. (I wasn't the only one snapping a camera.)

 

Toto, we’re not in Blue Lake anymore.

 The children, in their first half hour at our new home, awaiting slices of watermelon on the back deck. Well, we’ve just about made it through. We're in our home, Papa began his job, and our long-awaited stuff fills the house with boxes.

Are the children as forlorn as they look in that picture? Well, things are not always rosy, especially for 3 and a half year old Nature Boy adjusting to so many changes that life seems a turmoil. Tonight, at bedtime in the empty room, atop the blow-up mattress that our friendly new neighbor kindly loaned to us (We love neighbors!), after lighting the beeswax candle Isaiah rolled at the Quarry Hill Nature Center Fall Festival, we went through the story of all the places we’d been since we left our stuff.

We moved out our Blue Lake home, went to Seabrook Island to reunite with loved ones until their number dwindled so much that only mama and the children were left at the beach while Papa went to retrieve the car and Belly. Then up to Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Then to meet Papa in Minnesota. Staying at a hotel. Staying at Josh’s house. And finally landing here.

So resilient are the children. They love their new school, although they still stick mostly together there, not yet fully branching apart.

I wish I could say, okay, now we’re settled, but I suspect we’re still in a holding pattern within a holding pattern. For now we have a big beautiful yard with a big red maple, an oak, and other deciduous trees with whom I need to be reacquainted where we will observe the glories of fall and the depths of winter. We’ve found a spacious home in which to cozy up in the coming season.

I have had pent up longings for autumn since moving to California 17 years ago, so I’m going full fall forward for now. We’ll cross that winter--by snowshoe or ski or sled, but probably not boat--when we come to it.

no pictures yet...just reports

Minnesota-nice is already getting to me. This unique culture of Rochester is intriguing as well. The entire town is centered around the Mayo clinic and there's an assumption that if you're here, you or a family member is being treated at the clinic. There's a softness about, a coddling sensibility as even people you meet on the street take it upon themselves to help out.

Belly is also treated here as the grand dame she is. People stop us on the street, tap their dining companions when they see her through restaurant windows, want to pet her, and want to know all about her. I haven't answered this many questions about her breed since she was a puppy. "She looks like a bear!" And I've never heard so many accounts of  people losing their beloved companions at 14 or 15.

And, of course, it's Saturday. Just as at the Arcata Plaza, the SF Ferry Plaza, and even the Allentown Fairgrounds, it's Farmer's Market Day. After 5 days here, I had very few hopes about this one. It didn't help that everyone I asked for directions on the mile walk through downtown had never heard of it. And the food situation has been discouraging . . . I even bought a couple of days ago--for the first time in 2 years--an apple from New Zealand at the local co-op. After months of hearing me say, "Not yet, it's kiwi (or cherry or plum or peach or watermelon) season, after I rejected the organic California too-soft plums and unfragrant peaches, Isaiah practically yelped, "Hooray, it's apple season now!" when I reached for the New Zealand Braeburn in desperation.

But today we found the local apples (even varieties I, the consummate apple lover, had never heard of), tomatoes, greens, and all that, plus local cheese, fresh-milled grains and breads, elk sausage, buffalo jerky, eggs and the good vibe music and crowd of all my favorite farmer's markets.

It's Indian summer in the Midwest, and we are enjoying this prime season for all it's worth.

3-way special

Yes, we're here in Minnesota and I've been quiet because there's not too much to report and really, blogging is so much less fun without a camera. On our second day here, we did what you'd expect at new transplant to Minnesota to do. . . we went canoeing! Not only was it on a lovely lake where we spotted turtles on logs and lots of frogs, but we did it with Isaiah's best buddy Tahvo, who was here from California visiting his grandparents. Ah . . .the camera would have shown you two going-on-four-year olds in matching red life jackets, paddling the canoe and taking us on adventures to distant shores.

We've looked at homes to rent and to buy, in all kinds of neighborhoods, and are still searching. The children are a little burnt on being dragged to and fro, but Isaiah and I met his lovely teacher at the charming Waldorf-inspired home-based school where Miel will be welcome as well. I think we both feel a little better after that!

So you know we're in the home of the Mayo Clinic. I mean, really, the Mayo Clinic pretty much is Rochester. It creates the skyline, the economy, the whole town runs on it. And we're going to be getting some good insurance benefits. Well, I'll tell you, when Steve told me he saw an ad for the post-partum 3-way, I admit I started checking myself out in the mirror, wondering how it would look to have a little lift in my boobs, tuck in my tummy, and shape in my butt. C'mon, don't tell me you've never thought about it. I quickly flashed to talking to my mom sometime within the last 10 years, ranting about the evils of plastic surgery and botox. "Can't women allow themselves to age gracefully?" I bemoaned to my mother who has not succumbed. I looked at her (and look at her still this way) and see a woman healthy in an age-appropriate fashion, taking care of her body, staying active, eating well. It's okay if she looks like a grandma! It would look weird to me if she started to change parts of herself to conform to external standards of beauty.

It's not as easy to accept my own body's age and, I must say, decline, since gravity is a big part of the issue. Wouldn't it be nice to not have to wear "mom jeans"? To not have to put on a bra to sit at the computer?

Well, there's a pretty nice gym here in town. I'll check that out first. No insurance is that good :)

make new friends and keep the old

First of all, I must thank you for your comments and emails. The wisdom and support you shared helped me keep on the sunny side. I am so grateful!

Here we go, off to share our particular brand of love and life with our as yet unmet friends in Minnesota. We're flying tomorrow, looking for a home and doing our best to settle in. We'll be in Rochester, home of the Mayo Clinic an hour outside of Minneapolis. I think autumn will come quickly and colorfully.

We left California on July 2 with plans of moving to Earthaven Ecovillage in North Carolina, living off the grid, close to grandma and grandpa. Then we thought Burlington, Vermont, would be our new hometown, but Minnesota called and we answered. So off we go.

I hope to regale you of stories of keeping it real and spreading the love, finding great food and the wilds of the Midwest. Until then, I leave you with a few more images of our endless summer at Seabrook Island (thanks Mom and Dad!). . .

sharing sweet time with friends . . .

honey buzzing in her bee dress . . .

a last ride to the beach

saying good-bye to the beach . .
.

and wishing you peace wherever you may wander...

It's harder to let go of fantasy than reality.

I've never been one to make a decision based on money. It has been some weird quirk of mine to choose what feels right, just, and authentic over what seems secure. This has led to many adventures, many occupations, many romances, many homes. Much chaos. I've tried as best as I can to embrace simple living, choosing to freecycle and thrift possessions rather than buy them new. Choosing to go without the next new thing to avoid getting sucked into the wanting trap. Living in the yurt at OZ Farm (where we were living this time last year!) was simultaneously blissful and stressful. We were living our simplest yet as a family, needing to gauge the sun and wind to access water and do simple tasks like laundry. Taking much time to harvest food for meals. The vitality of the children's senses was apparent each day. The sacrifices were just about worth it for the sake of their wildness and joy. Yet, the financial chaos of our particular situation would have proved counter-productive in the long run. We needed to obtain a measure of financial freedom in order to pursue that dream to the fullest.

So we returned to Blue Lake to stabilize and found it was time to move again. As we are on the verge of this next step, we find ourselves faced with paradoxes. First, I was able to tear myself from California with the lure of living closer to my parents. Then, we thought we were headed to Vermont for a job, an adventure we were excited about as we combined a chance to get some financial momentum while living in a place that draws us with its beauty and rural culture. And a place that is just a few hours from my old stomping grounds in Boston and our beloved Uncles Mark and John. Then along comes a great job in Minnesota, a place I've never been. Like many Coasters, I'm sure, I have a fear of the Midwest.

The last place that I lived that I didn't choose was my hometown. And I couldn't wait to leave. It wasn't in the Midwest, but Pennsylvania, its "gateway." As a child, I couldn't believe my parents had left New York City because Pennsylvania would be a better place to raise me. Didn't I get a say in it??? Every day, I would tumble this equation in my 10-year-old mind, vowing to live someplace interesting when I grew up. And now I create the same pattern for my children. The ones who talk about San Francisco, New York City, and living on a farm every day. I can imagine many childhoods for them . . . northern California surfing, Vermont skiing, proximity to a loving Grandma and Grandpa. I cringe at snatching these from them; or at least from snatching my fantasies from their fantasy selves.

It looks like we're going to make the financial decision in this case, letting go of my dreams of Vermont. I'm having a trouble accepting this right now. I'd love to hear your thoughts on geography, money, and making the best of it.    

still wandering

We've been seeing the world. Or at least the United States. From northern California all the way to Vermont to Colorado to North Carolina and these days returning to our "home" base of coastal South Carolina. Spinning more quickly and getting ready to launch into our soft landing. We don't know where, but I think we're getting close.

Lake Champlain, below, is beautiful. We've been there before and really, what's not to love about Vermont? It reminds me of New England Humboldt County and I love New England and love Humboldt, so...

Waterfront dining. Makes me want to order a lobster roll. Then I remember, I'm on a lake. Nice, though, how the lake is large enough to give my consciousness a resting point, an edge. So comforting for someone who's lived on the coast for the past 17 years. I can wander the green rolling hills and pastoral valleys and quaint villages, and always find the Adirondacks towering behind the expanse of water.

And...let's not forget the Vermont Lake Monsters. Not only are we becoming a family of baseball fans, we're becoming a family of minor-league fans. $7 tix, good seats everywhere, easy parking, we love it. Whether it's the Humboldt Crabs, Charleston Riverdogs, Vermont Lake Monsters, or Asheville Tourists, you'll find us eating peanuts and rooting for the home team.

Also in Vermont we were hosted by Champlain Valley Cohousing. What a delightful place and lovely people. Not only did they offer an empty home for us, they left granola, dark chocolate, maple syrup, fresh eggs, and a big gallon jar of their own fresh creamy cow milk. Everyone was so cheerful and sparkling, it was almost disconcerting. Though being at The Soup for 15 years has accustomed me to glowing people.

One wonderful thing about this exploration is how it has connected us to the people and concepts of cohousing and ecovillages. Our time at OZ Farm helped us discover the joy of living in community. Of course, there's a way the entire state of Vermont feels like being at OZ. . .it's a state that has such a strong sense of place, of independence, of food, of self-sufficiency.

We continued our quest at Earthaven Ecovillage in Black Mountain, NC. Another fascinating place. With our dream house awaiting our arrival. Our first glimpse of the mountains by car . . .

And lest our California friends (who we do miss very much--Isaiah recites all your names every day) fret for our lack of blackberries and blueberries, rest assured that we are finding the wild and cultivated places and eating them up. Isaiah at yesterdays blackberry patch: "This is so many blackberries, it is a feast!" and  "This is so good, I'm not leaving." The only thing missing is you.

Earthaven is another place filled with food and animals. Natural buildings and projects. A gaggle of kids running naked to the swimming hole. A copperhead swimming across our path in the creek.

catching up with ourselves

Well, we're officially on the move. Stuff in storage, on to the next thing. And wouldn't you know it, I can't even keep my blog address stable these days. Welcome to TypePad. I've been playing with it for a while and think it's the easiest for me to use and figure out myself. I think I'll stay put for a while, so if you want to hear about our search for home, feel free to sign up for email updates or just check back in whenever you're curious. I would love to hear from you!!!

Fortunately, cushioning this foray into the great unknown are several weeks of FUN. Isaiah and I went to The Soup (my 15th year, his 3rd) for a special adventure before packing up the house and flying to South Carolina. First we camped at Avalon, beloved inland lake land where we continued the day and night dress-up good times. Then we headed to the coast to enjoy the gratitude-inspiring abundance of our extended family, complete with grandparents, aunties and uncles, and even a brand-new baby.

We'll catch you up with some shots from MetamorphoSoup...

We worked for our food...   

and played...

and played...

and then we rested in the shade of Eden, hydrated by sweet Dragon's Drool and dreaming of openhearted lovelights shining bright.

loving the cherries

We're in boxes, truly preparing to move on. My heart is full of memory, hope, reminisce. My belly is full of cherries and snap peas! Not only are they in the market and the store, they're in Blue Lake, in our back yard even. And, of course, we can't get enough of them. Our cheeks and lips are rouged.

I'm going to slow things down on this blog as I try to be present to the friends and feelings we have during this last week in California. Not that we rule out returning. We can't really imagine not returning. But for now, our destiny is elsewhere and we're trying to go with that flow.  I had my second growing up in northern California, with 12 years in San Francisco before this 5 years up north. I felt like I had a remedial education here, learning deep lessons of nature, food, healing, and community.

Our community here truly feels like home. Both of our children were born in this comfy house in our sweet neighborhood. Blue Lake will always be their home.  The view of their playroom from the loft...just beginning to be dismantled.

It's been a deep week here, with tragedy close to us, fires all around from a monster thunderstorm, and DEA agents swarming the county. So we appreciate these moments we have, full of life, right now.