Family Fun

So, for those who are far away, further pictures of the activities of Al, Dad and Mom.

Here's me at McDonald Lake, prior to some kick-ass rock skipping.














Mom and Dad taking in the view along the Going-to-the-Sun Road.















A trip to Glacier simply wouldn't be right without snowballs in July! Hee hee.















Now, back near Missoula, here's Dad and Mom and I at the top of the ski lift at the Snowbowl ski resort.















We went with Jacob and his mom to see the gorgeous view! We could see all of Missoula and far down the Bitterroot Valley. Glorious.

Current Activities

Because I always listen to my littul sisturr . . . a post of my current activities.

Mom and Dad are visiting this week (aah!!! A WEEK!), and we are having fun. What have we done already? We have visited the PEAS farm (the pigs are huge! there are 20 new chickens! the garlic has been harvested! the entire farm is LUSH!); had fish tacos (me and Mom), fish 'n chips (Dad), and good Montana beer at the Old Post; eaten sushi, calamari, and seaweed salad (go Mom and Dad! Such good sports.); experienced the divinity that is Big Dipper ice cream; hiked the M (only stopping at every other switchback for Mom to catch her breath); viewed the 204-foot-high Kerr dam at the end of Flathead Lake; and we are currently up at the Kuntz farm enjoying a sublimely beautiful evening. Mom and Dad are sitting out on the deck, reading, with the lake stretching blue beyond, and the sun easing its way behind the western mountains. Tomorrow we're heading to Glacier after breakfasting at the Echo Lake Cafe, which is supposed to have the best breakfast in western Montana. I'll let you know!

So, for all you poor people who aren't here, some pictures for your enjoyment. :)





Dad and Mom from the top of the M! They made it! Woohoo!



Me being triumphant, oh Great Hiker Al.



Yay for technology! Digital camera pics, a cool photo editing program, and voila! A gorgeous panorama shot of the Missoula valley from the M. It was the most beautiful day I've seen in quite a while, refreshingly cool and breezy.

Fear Not

"Do not fear, only believe."

Though the gospel reading was about Jairus's daughter and the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, those five words were the ones that jumped out at me. Jesus said them to Jairus after they had been told that his daughter was dead.

I feel as though half the time I'm going through life feeling afraid, and the other half I'm doubting--my faith, my beliefs, my life, God. But listen, listen--

"Do not fear, only believe."

Perhaps this not fearing, this believing, precludes thought? Or perhaps Jesus is saying,

I know you've thought, and I know that your thoughts are torturing you.

Wait.
Breathe.

And know that you need not fear. Know that you need only believe.

Wait.
Listen.

Deep down, in your very core, you know what you believe. In love, believe it, and go forth fearless.

At least, that's what I heard whispered in my soul this Sunday.

Words of Wisdom

I seem to be so cheerful, always, on my blog.

Not that this is a bad thing, necessarily, but it makes me wonder if I'm trying to cover up the less-than-cheerful things in my life.

Words of wisdom from Paulo Coelho's Warrior of the Light:

When the master sees that the Warrior is depressed, he says:

"You are not what you seem to be in these moments of sadness. You are better than that.

"By now, millions of people will have given up. They don't get angry, they don't weep, they don't do anything; they merely wait for time to pass. They have lost the ability to react.

"You, however, are sad. That proves that your soul is still alive."


I take heart in this thought: I am sad, some days, and feel that there is too much darkness. But my soul is still very much alive.

Lately I have been feeling that the life I live is too selfish. I got an email update from a girl I went on MESP with, an amazing girl who has done and is doing so many things I envy--visiting Palestine, being deeply involved with and connected to her church, studying Arabic, working with a non-profit that helps children around the world--and I realize that it is not HER I resent, not really. Rather, it is my inaction, my selfishness, that I hate. Perhaps I do not need to do anything phenomenal, exotic, huge. But I want to start making changes on an incremental level, changes that move me from selfishness to selflessness, from living a life centered on only myself to a life that is aware of those around me.

It is a slow process, but it is one I have begun simply by recognizing that I need to begin it.


I have also been thinking about prayer lately, and God. I have told several of my friends that I will pray for them, which means I need to do it. I told them I would pray, knowing that it has been too long since I've prayed with any regularity, told them I would pray because I love them and am hoping that that love will encourage me to keep my promise.

More words from Paulo Coelho:

There are two types of prayer.

In the first type, the person asks for certain things to happen and attempts to tell God what he should do. This does not allow the Creator either time or space in which to act. God--who knows perfectly well what is best for each of us--will continue to do as he sees fit. And the person praying is left with the impression that this prayer went unanswered.

In the second type, the person may not understand the Almighty's intentions, bu he allows his life to develop according to his Creator's plans. He asks to be spared suffering, he asks for joy in the Good Fight, but he never forgets to add: "Thy will be done."

This is how the Warrior of the Light chooses to pray.


I wish it were easier. But any time I've tried to tell God what to do or who to be, I have been humbled. Which, I suppose, is good.

My heart has been sad lately. When my heart is sad, I find I want to tell God what to do, want to pray for certain things to happen. I feel as though I've been better at letting go this past year--letting go of me, of what I want, of what I think should happen, of my determination to have things my way--but I am still far from perfection in that realm.

How do I shift from asking God that certain things happen, to allowing my life to develop according to his plans?

I must remember to add "Thy will be done."

So I pray: Bring joy to those I love. Bring peace to the world, and to every heart within it. Make me a channel of your peace. Let me truly love those around me. Keep me from suffering. May I be joyful in each day.

Thy will be done.


It is very hard to say that.
It is very hard to say that and mean it.

I wish I could adopt a kitty . . .

Adorable Animals of the Missoula Humane Society
For Your Viewing Pleasure

Is this not an incredibly adorable puppy? He and his siblings are up for adoption at the Missoula Humane Society. I will not be getting one (sniff), but dang it, he's cute!

Just thought I'd spread the cuteness around. I don't (think I) generally succumb to cuteness, but I simply couldn't resist.

All right, while I'm posting pictures from the Humane Society, here's the cat Jacob got a couple of weeks ago (whose name has gone from Wylie to Whitman to Monkey to Bug Aurelius, and it had better remain at the latter since Bug is now the proud owner of an engraved name tag!).















And last but not least, here's Penelope, the cat I am still tempted to adopt (if I actually had the $250 pet deposit I'd need to give to my landlord, not to mention the $60 it costs to adopt, and all the expenses of litter and cat food, etc.). Someday . . .

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY . . .

I moved to Missoula! I can't believe I've been here for a year. I haven't been in one place for a year since I lived in Chicago. Happy anniversary to me! I had my first day of work at Adventure Life, which consisted of researching the geography and history and culture of Vietnam and starting to write up mini-articles on those topics, and mailing about 25 catalogs to random people. It's a good working environment--a small office, with the people very friendly and welcoming. I think I'm going to enjoy the work, though it's been awhile since I've worked in an office. I need to brush up on some long-unused skills. Like typing on a desktop system rather than a laptop, for instance!

Isn't it about time for me to post pictures again? Here's me and Teresa looking gorgeous (of course!), at our friend Erin's graduation party. It was a pretty wild affair--hors d'ouvres, live music, a professional drag queen performance . . .




The second picture portrays Al's Transformation From Iowa Girl To Missoula Girl. Note quintessential Missoula accessories: dog, Nalgene, bike, dorky smile, gaucho pants, olive oil, Western Family snack crackers (well, that's more a Poor Graduate Student accessory than a Missoula Girl accessory, but oh, well), and, last but not least, Chacos! Missing: devastatingly attractive curly-haired guitar-playing boy. Just squint and use your imagination. :)

I am 26, going on 27 . . .

Three months from today is my 27th birthday. I've become quite accustomed to being 26, and it has never, these past months, seemed old. So how is it that I shudder to think of turning 27? How can it seem so much older than 26? Although 27 is a nice, balanced number. Two plus seven is nine, which is one of my favorite numbers, and 27 is also divisible by nine. Besides, I like odd numbers. Well, perhaps turning 27 won't be so bad, after all. And I have three months to adjust myself to the idea.

It's a gorgeous day over here. I have done nothing terribly productive today (besides sweep my kitchen floor, put away the dishes, and put away my winter coats), but hey, it's summer vacation, right? My internship at Adventure Life begins tomorrow--exciting! So I should enjoy this day of not working. It's one of those gold and green and blue days, and the air is fresh and cool and spring-like, thanks to several days of rain. I suppose it will get hot and miserable soon enough.

Tricia and Benjamin visited me last week, and it was lovely to have them here. Unfortunately, I was sick--damn tonsils!--and not up to my usual energetic self, which was frustrating. I must say, though, Tricia and Benjamin took very good care of me, and it was very nice to have good friends around who cooked me yummy meals and did the dishes and made me drink lots of water. We camped out by Rock Creek one night, and had to fight the mule deer for our campsite; we had ice cream from the Big Dipper, and hit up the Book Exchange a few times, and ate nachos as the Old Post, and visited the Humane Society. I have decided that I am a catalyst to people adopting pets. Last summer, Tricia and Benjamin adopted Minuet from the Missoula Humane Society when we went together; this time around, it was Jacob who adopted a cat, a one-year-old black and white male whom he named Monkey. Over the past couple of years I find myself becoming more and more of a cat person. They have always seemed such unpredictable creatures (compared to dogs, that is), but I am coming to understand them better. There was the sweetest tortoiseshell cat there, and I am sorely tempted to go back to the Humane Society with Teresa and see what she thinks about Penelope . . .

All right, I think this is enough narcissism for the day. I just found out that Jen and Joe are coming out this way over the 4th of July! The three of us have a bit of a 4th of July tradition, though it's been put aside the past couple of years. (Uh oh, Joe, you're going to have an out-of-state license again! Do you think we can find another grocery cashier who will suspect you of being a raving drunk?) I love having visitors! And Amy Wojcik is coming out in about two weeks, and Mom and Dad are visiting in July . . . woohoo! It is good to have such things to look forward to.

And now I may call my friend Lindsay and see if she's up for a bit of a walk in this gorgeous Montana weather. I'm sitting writing this out on my balcony, with the sunlight dappling the leaves, and the breeze washing over my skin and tinkling my wind chimes. It is perfectly loverly.

a glorious evening

A storm blew up tonight, before sunset. I was sitting in El Cazador, eating a late supper, and suddenly the trees outside were lashing back and forth in the wind, and rain came down in the streets, hard and quick, and deep golden sunlight flashed beneath the clouds and lit up the green leaves and the slopes of Mt. Sentinel and Mt. Jumbo, while grey-blue clouds hovered above Missoula. By the time I left, the rain had let up to a misting drizzle, and the sun was resting right on the horizon.

As Jacob and I walked out, a perfect, gorgeous rainbow arced in a half circle above Mt. Sentinel, the colors glowing against the dark sky behind. One end of the rainbow rested in Rattlesnake Canyon, the other at the university. A faint second rainbow stretched above the first. The sunlight streamed past while the raindrops wet my skin, and a cool fresh breeze blew off the rushing wildness of the snowmelt-flooded Clark Fork River.

Oh glorious evening!

Oh, and did I mention that I'm finished with my first year of grad school?? Ilhamdulillah . . . and the summer now stretches out before me. I could canvass this summer if I wanted, and I think I might just do it--it would be fun to canvass in Missoula (and Helena and Bozeman and Billings and Kalispell and Whitefish), and I'd be walking a lot and thus be getting trim and fit, and the campaign is on global warming . . . it's nice to have the option, at any rate. Hmm.

And now, by gum, I'm going to go to bed because I am BEAT. It's been hot lately, and I don't like sleeping in the heat, but tonight is nice and cool, post-thunderstorm cool. Luffly.

Happy summer to all, and to all a good night!
(Three cheers for cheesiness!)

just a few more days

I am so close to being finished!

Here it is, Monday night, and I've just finished making intelligent and insightful comments on two long essays written by fellow students in my writing class. I have to comment on Teresa's essay yet before tomorrow night. Tomorrow I will be grading portfolios for most of the day, with a break around 1 o'clock for a last brief meeting with my Greening of Religion class. Tomorrow evening is my last writing class--we're having a potluck followed by workshopping. On Wednesday I'm handing back most of my students' portfolios, with a few to be handed back on Thursday morning . . . and then . . . I'm . . . done!! Ilhamdulillah!

Now to find a summer job. I have a couple of very part-time jobs already, but I'm going to need to earn at least a little more this summer. Wish me luck, these next few days and weeks, that I can find something interesting and challenging (but not too challenging) for these summer months.

On Saturday night Jacob and I drove up to his family's farm near Bigfork. It's on the east side of Flathead Lake, a few acres of land covered with 400 cherry trees, all of which are in bloom right now. The room I slept in has a window which overlooks the lake, and it was a lovely way to wake up, Sunday morning, to the sound of rain falling on the roof and mist creeping over the expanse of the lake. The smell of frying bacon wasn't too terrible of a wake-up call, either. Mmm.

It was so good to feel part of a family again. I love my friends in Missoula, but most of them are my age, or are at least at a similar place in life. I'm not close to many middle-aged or older couples--I have found no surrogate parents or grandparents here, and I miss that intergenerational interaction. So spending the day with Jacob and his parents and sister was wonderful. They welcomed me enthusiastically, adopting me with no questions asked. The warmth of their family combined with the beauty of the farm almost brought me to tears--I have missed light-hearted bantering and teasing, have missed my sister, my parents, have missed coming downstairs in the morning to a family breakfast, family prayer, family closeness.

Ilhamdulillah.

The trees are leafing out along my street, and shade falls beneath them during the day and in the twilit spring evenings. It has been a wet spring, and the grass is lush and green, and the smell of cut grass has begun wafting through the air on warm afternoons. The sun scatters light across the valley, and the mountains glow green and gold during the day, are tinted pink and gold as the sun sets, and loom dark against the sky as evening shifts to night.

So, who's going to come visit me this summer?

A True Montanan

A True Montanan

This morning I woke up just after six to go fly-fishing.

That's right, I went fly-fishing this morning for the first time in my life.

I am on my way to becoming a true Montanan.

!!!

Jacob invited me to go with him this morning, and how could I refuse an exquisitely beautiful morning standing on the bank of the Blackfoot River? He was very patient in teaching casting to a person who hasn't held a fishing rod in 15 years, and who has never done anything like casting a fly-fishing line. The long, narrow pole felt very awkward in my hands, and the mosquito-like fly kept getting caught in the napweed behind me. But after an hour or so, my hands chilled in the early morning air and beads of ice forming on the rod, I started to get the hang of it. Swish and swish and swish, back and forth, arm moving in a swinging rhythm, don't let the pole flick downward, try to toss the line straight out, don't let it bunch up as the fly hits the water . . .

I am beginning to understand the allure of fly-fishing, and why it draws so many people in. I think I need to read David James Duncan's The River Why again, and watch A River Runs Through It, too. For those of you who don't know, A River Runs Through It takes place in Missoula, along the Blackfoot River. And now I have tasted the sweetness of standing in the shadow of the mountains, fly rod in hand, the line spinning out above me and flicking out over a river running swift with snowmelt.

What's homework again?

Off the Radar . . .

Today's a gorgeous day. Breezy and cool, but the sky is cloudless and the sun is beaming down and green baby leaves are fuzzing the edges of all the trees. Spring!

My Earth Day service went really well today. Peter preached an energetic, mind-stretching sermon; I read the scriptures without stumbling over the words; and the singing was lovely. Plus, now people know who I am. :) There were even yummy desserts afterward, of which I partook liberally.

I am swinging into the last three weeks of school. As such, I'm going to be extremely busy--just thinking about the mountain of projects and papers and grading to hack through has me quivering in my Chacos. So I'm posting this as a warning that I'm going to drop off the radar until, say, May 11th. If you don't hear from me, that's why. If I don't answer your calls, that's why. If I don't post until then, that's why. I'm sure I will spend some time procrastinating, in the form of phone conversations or emails, but don't count on it.

I love you all, and I look forward to some good, long, lazy conversations when I come up for air in three weeks.

Many blessings!

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

Go out and appreciate creation!
Bike or walk instead of drive.
Eat some local food.
Plant a tree!
Hug a tree!
Thank people who give you crap for being a "hippie, liberal granola"! (Yes, it happens even here in Missoula.)
Calculate your ecological footprint!
Minimize your ecological footprint today!
Read Psalm 104 or 148.

Wish me luck as I attempt to do some marathon grading and bust through the 20 remaining argument essays this afternoon . . .

I'm happy because I found out yesterday that I got a scholarship. It's not too much, but every little bit helps. I also found out that I'm one of the substitute assistant market masters for the Farmers Market this summer. I get to fill in for the assistant market masters if they're gone, or I get to help out when the Market gets busier in July and August. Now for a job to keep me occupied during the week . . . wish me luck in that department, too.

Onward and upward!

ENERGY!

I just had a fantastic class! Some days I feel that I'm scarcely teaching, that I ought to be doing more, somehow, but today I felt such good energy spilling into the classroom. I began by reading some Wendell Berry poetry (thank you, Jacob, for illuminating me with the knowledge of more Mad Farmer poems!)--"The Mad Farmer's Love Song" & "The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer"--perhaps it's show-offy of me, but I really enjoy reading aloud to my students. I have to have some fun as a teacher, after all. And they seem to enjoy it.

Then we talked about revision modes and methods, and one of my students asked me to define "show not tell," which is rather difficult to do--really, it is a skill that must be practiced, must be shown, not told, not defined. But I did my best, and my students seemed to be following what I was saying or trying to say. At the end of class, one of my students asked, "So what showing is, is presenting the details to the readers and letting them come up with their own conclusion?" And I looked at him and thought, Wow, you just said in one sentence what I've been trying to say for the past 20 minutes. Aloud I said: "Yes, Gary, that's it exactly. Don't tell us what to think--give us the evidence and let us make our own conclusions." I looked around at my students, and I could see by their expressions that they got it, that they understood, and it was beautiful because it was one of the students who said so clearly what I was getting at--and once he'd said it, there was nothing more for me to say, so I ended the class.

Is this why it's so wonderful to be a teacher--simply being able to watch your students come to the point of understanding new ideas, to see the knowledge illuminating their faces? To be the catalyst to their learning?

O beautiful day.

Hump Day

Yes, it is Wednesday again, and I am glad for it. My Mondays and Tuesdays always seem so weighed down, but my class schedule lightens in the latter half of the week. This past weekend I was also working hard on an essay I should have been working hard on all semester, and I turned in the first draft last night. It is not brilliant by any means, but I like it. Writing it, I felt for the first time in a long time that I was creating something that has a purpose, that is going somewhere. This essay is taking on a life of its own, and I'm excited to see where it goes.

Tonight I am going out for dollar sushi and then to a concert-- David Boone and Tom Catmull--with my friend Jacob. This will be the third time in my life that I've had sushi, the fourth time I've heard David Boone, and the fifth time I've heard Tom Catmull. It should be a good evening--have I mentioned how much I love the Missoula music scene?

Last night I went to the Old Post and had Moose Drool and nachos for the first time in three weeks. Three weeks without Old Post nachos--well, it's not something that should ever happen again. There is an EVST joke about how quickly Teresa and I can put away a plate of nachos . . . we are pretty talented when it comes to devouring good food. Mmm, nachos.

I think I will post here the ending of my essay. I'm not sure that I'll keep it as the ending (it depends on how the essay itself develops and changes), but I like it. It's been raining every day this week, and the grass is turning green and the buds are appearing on the trees . . . spring is coming!

My essay is on communion, and Iowa, and manna from heaven . . . and unknown other topics, to be discovered in the next few weeks. Enjoy.

It is raining today, a quiet, washing spring rain. I heard it in those first moments of consciousness early this morning, heard it dripping on the roof, heard the water-muffled sounds of traffic outside my window, saw the gray dim light spilling into my bedroom. I walked out into the day, into one of the first rains of spring, and felt the cold drops on my cheeks and nose and hair. The grass will turn green now, and other flowers will pop up to join the fallen bits of crocus color that lie scattered on my neighbors’ lawns. And perhaps, along with the rain, sweet white flakes will come drifting down from heaven, falling down to rest on the glistening grass, and I will pick them up, filling my hands with what I need for the day and no more. My neighbors, too, will be out on their lawns, marveling at this gift from the sky. We will kneel to scoop it up; we will smile at one another across the street and over the fence. We will bring our brimming hands to our mouths, and the flakes will melt on our tongues, will be washed down with raindrops.

Spring Break Procrastination

My break is here, and I have loads of work to do, but not much is getting done. Why is motivation lacking when I need it the most? Why must my personal life get complicated when I need to focus on schoolwork?

I have been thinking about choices lately. I make so many choices daily--most of them little ones, I guess--and I am used to taking responsibility for my choices. For instance, do I mark research essays or go out to eat with friends? If I go out to eat, then the work load piles up for later--but I know that it is my choice, my doing, and I will live with the consequences. I've made some choices lately that I'm not sure about--that is, I'm not sure what the results will be. Funny how some things seem so lovely at the time and in retrospect I wonder what on earth I was thinking. And yet the choice has been made and I must live with the result, and if I am hurt in the process it is because of the decision that I made.

Taking responsibility for one's actions is a little scary sometimes.

I have also been getting periodic updates from a woman in my church in Sioux Center. She is pregnant, and her baby has been diagnosed with spinal bifuda (I think that's right . . . ), so she is undergoing special treatments in Nashville. She sends out an email update once or twice a week, and, despite the uncertainty and scariness of her situation, her faith in God is unwavering. She fully trusts that He is in control and is taking care of her and her baby and her family. Her faith humbles me and gives me hope at the same time. And I look at my life here, and the choices I am making, and I wish I had her faith and certainty. I wish, too, that I had as many people praying for me as she does--and then I think of all of you, all my friends wherever you may be, and I know that you are praying for me, as I am praying for you. That, too, is both humbling and hopeful.

I am experiencing so many new things here in Montana. The ways people think are so different--I am coming across myriad new ideas and worldviews. I am glad for this, but at the same time I am challenged. Challenged to consider these new perspectives; challenged to test them against long-held beliefs; challenged to fit new and old together in a way that makes sense; challenged to be faithful while simultaneously trying to define just what 'faithful' means. Challenged. I am glad for the challenges, but at times (such as now) I want to step back from them all and simply rest.

Today I called my friend Lindsay here in town, and we had tea and then took a walk in Rattlesnake Canyon with her two sons. Seth is only three months old, so I carried him in a baby carrier against my chest, and he slept the whole time, his few pounds no burden, his warmth comfortable in the coolness of the afternoon. Lindsay carried Corin in a child backpack, and we walked amongst the Ponderosa pines, inhaled the fragrance of the air, heard the water of the creek splash against the rocks, and talked; for those few hours I was able to step back and rest from the challenges and confusions of my life and simply enjoy the beauty of Montana.

The sun is setting now, and dusk is falling over the valley. It is a beautiful day, a beautiful evening. And my homework is calling to me, threatening to crash down upon me if I don't start working on the pile soon. So enough procrastination for now . . .

Happy Spring!

This morning was windy, but it was a blustery March wind, so, despite the cold, the smell of spring was in the air, blowing down the mountains and along the Clark Fork River. I can't wait until the trees start leafing out and the grass turns green. Crocuses are popping up in people's yards, and all the seeds in the greenhouse out at the PEAS farm are germinating, so spring is on its way. Bit by bit.

Spring break is coming up--it starts this Friday for me. I was hoping to be able to take off and do something wild and crazy away from Missoula, but then I looked at my work load and realized I can't afford the time. I do hope to get out of town for a couple of days, though. Even a day trip to the hot springs or to Glacier would be refreshing.

Last week I caught a nasty cold . . . my throat hurt so badly, and when I tried to swallow it was as if I had a golf ball in my throat. UGH. I thought perhaps I had strep throat, but I went to the doctor and she told me it was just a virus. But what a nasty fiend of a virus it was! I'm finally feeling better--I've been drinking lots of tea, getting nine hours of sleep a night, eating my vegetables, and slacking on my homework. Anything to get well again!

We are now getting more daytime than nighttime--I love having more than 12 hours of sunlight! I took a walk tonight at 7, and it wasn't even dark yet, though twilight fell as I headed along the riverwalk. I love the way the streetlights shine yellow against the sky, how they reflect golden on the dark smoothness of the river.

I can't wait until summer. Hot hot sunny days, rafting on the icy waters of the Blackfoot, sunlight streaming over the mountains, band playing in Caras park on Thursday nights, the Farmer's Market every Saturday, no homework . . . oh, glorious Montana summer!

In the meantime, however, I have work to do. And much as I'd like to just sit around and read non-school books for the rest of the evening, I really ought to mark some research papers . . .

Love to all!

When writing class gets boring . . .

we the writers get creative. Below you will find a conglomerate poem, written by Teresa, Christa, and myself (a.k.a. "Terry Christalson"). It's a bit of a spoof on the Camas submissions--Camas is the literary journal put out by the EVST department, the editorial board of which we are all members. Enjoy!

The Nature of the West: A (really, really) Profoundly Meaningful Poem

O Camas!
The quiet waiting-ness of your
sweet root in rich Western soil
The quivering shoot that culminates
in your crowning glory, sapphire flower
You put forth your Rooty sustenance
to keep flesh rosy on our bodies
A gentle whitetail doe,
quick, wild, free!
Steps among your shiny
profusion of azure blooms
You caress her legs, moving softly
As the prairie wind strokes your face
Breath soft with prairie spring
A Hawk soars, floating overhead
through blue sky that echoes your glory
He soars, then dives, and
Death blooms at your stems.
Your cool blue beauty is undisturbed.
The Death-Hawk
carries his prey over the
mountains with a cry
of Triumph.
The wind whispers through your leaves:
sssshhhhsssshhhh!
A tacit understanding
to hide the bloody kill
your flowers shield
one of your many silent secrets.
As summer glides, slow, into fall,
the whisper turns to the
rattle & rustle
of drying leaves
Blue bleaches into golden autumn
Then, the pure white shroud
of the Winter’s snow
is thrown upon the land.
Beneath it, your roots wait,
and with them, their Secrets.
Swelling through the long cold season
until the warm Spring’s wind
calls you forth
bursting with new life
to feed our rosy flesh again.
You are the Nature of the West!
O Camas!

The End.

up at the PEAS farm

Today I began my internship out at the PEAS farm. It is in a lovely spot up in the Rattlesnake Valley, a little ways out of town and surrounded by mountains. The rain was coming down gently when I got up, and its falling on the earth brought forth the richest, most springlike smell--of growth and soil and freshness. As I drove through town, the sun came out and a rainbow arched across the western sky and my mind was filled with hopeful thoughts, because what other thoughts have any right being in your mind when there's a rainbow in the sky?

We mixed potting soil today, too: 4 parts compost, 1 part sand, 4 parts peat, 3 parts vermiculite, and a tiny little bit of organic fertilizer. We sifted it all into a big pile on the floor, and then six of us walked around the pile with shovels, mixing and turning the ingredients together to create a light, rich soil. Then we filled up the planter boxes with our concoction and planted onions, thousands of them. I'm delighted to think of how they'll grow and grow and then, later this summer, I'll be able to eat them. Yum!

So it was a happy day. We worked in the greenhouse with the rain drumming on the roof, and we were all cozy and working hard inside. I am going to enjoy these hours spend on the farm, these hours of working and having something to show for it by the end--I've forgotten how satisfying manual labor is, especially when I'm laboring with other like-minded people.

Today is Tuesday, which means I have my writing class tonight, and nachos and Moose Drool at the Old Post afteward! Now there's a happy hour.

Things I'm Thankful for (in no particular order):

1. chocolate
2. icy cold weather!
3. clear skies and a gorgeous sunrise this morning
4. Old Post nachos (mmm)
5. Poe, very possibly the sweetest dog in the world
6. new pens
7. randomly running into people I know in little Missoula coffee shops
8. being done with filing taxes and filling out the FAFSA
9. young adult literature
10. students who ask questions
11. fuzzy blankets
12. sunshine coming in the windows and warming up the EVST lounge
13. granola from the Good Food Store
14. pictures of my grandparents when they were young
15. giving out silly Valentines
16. reading I Corinthians 13 this morning
17. talking to friends I haven't heard from in awhile
18. goofy pictures from various costume parties
19. the view of mountains out my window
20. the satisfaction of baking yummy things
21. getting to attend lectures by famous authors such as Linda Hogan
22. warm bus rides on cold days
23. a kick-ass roommate who makes scrumptious hummus and goddess dressing, among other things
24. the prospect of a Laura Ingalls Wilder-site-visiting vacation next summer
25. Lady Grey tea
26. that my sister came to visit me!

A bit of procrastination . . .

Not too many exciting things are happening at the moment, but requests have been made for me to update my blog. So here goes.

I decided this weekend that I'm going to drop the extra class I added. Saving a couple thousand dollars, frugal and economic though it would be, is not worth sanity, rest, and peace of mind. Or so I'm telling myself. After making that decision, though, I felt as though a weight had lifted: a good sign.

I'm enjoying my teaching so much this semester! I feel as though I know so much more. I don't, not really, but at least I have a semester's worth of experience behind me. I find I am able to field my students' questions much more coherently now. I had a good class today; nothing deeply profound occurred, but I felt as though my students were taking in what I was saying, and I was encouraged.

My sister is coming this week! She flies in late Wednesday night, and I'm overjoyed that she's coming. Hee hee. It will be so wonderful to show her around Missoula and UM, and have her meet all of my people here . . . oh joy. What a lovely event to look forward to!

I need to do some writing tonight. And then I need to print it out and run it over to school. You'd think that I could easily get the work done on time for a once-a-week class, but alas. I got most of my other work done in the meantime, though! And the apartment's looking much cleaner, and I'm suddenly inspired to do some baking tonight . . . in preparation for Andrea's visit, of course. Um. Strangely enough, I'm finding it far easier to write about subjects that have nothing to do with my essay. I am running into a mountainous mental block when I try to work on this essay, and I think I've figured it out: I want it to be perfect, and what's coming out of my mind and onto the screen is not perfect, and therefore I'm not getting anything written. I talk myself blue in the face telling my students that they need to give themselves the freedom to "write badly and silence their internal critics," but I can't give that same freedom to myself. Plah. Wish me luck.

This past weekend held a Big Labowsky party--imagine 40 grad students crammed into a medium-size living room, dressed as Big Labowsky characters, drinking White Russians, and watching the movie projected onto the wall. Just imagine. Afterwards, we all went out bowling (I bowled an 81! Woohoo! Or was it an 86?), and then Teresa and Jeff and Catherine and I went out to Oxford's Cafe for burgers at midnight, and Catherine and I played Keno--we put in 25 cents and got back 55 cents, so we more than doubled our bet! And people say they lose money gambling . . . I just don't understand it. Although I have this sneaking suspicion that if we'd gambled $250, we wouldn't have won $550, but who knows?