in the lane, snow is glistening

. . . and boy, does it make me happy.  Some years, I spend November wishing for snow . . . to no avail.  This year, it came before I even began to wish for it.  There was snow on our hike up to Glen Lakes in the beginning of October.  At the end of October, there was even more snow on a hike up Sweeney Ridge.  And it was lovely.

Silliness in the parking lot:

Hint of a wintry wonderland:

Larchiness!

Snow and sunshine: the perfect combination.

 

Today, we woke up to an inch or so of fluffy snow covering everything, and we have spent the afternoon 1) making and eating a delicious brunch with friends and 2) sitting cozily in the living room, knitting, writing, reading, doing the crossword, etc., with the snow outside and sunshine streaming in the windows.  Right now the late afternoon light is hitting the icicles on the western side of our roof, and the sky and snowscape are awash in gold and orange.  Ah.

I haven't been out skiing yet, but it will happen soon.  In the meantime, I'm inspired by winter photos from the past few years, reminding me of all the fun to come:

Skiing up the Rattlesnake with Beth and Britta and sculpting a voluptuous snow goddess:

Exploring the sagebrushy open land up the Blackfoot Valley on a sunny winter day:

Skiing in Glacier NP while spending a weekend in Polebridge:

Bowman Lake, Glacier NP:

Playing "Red Rover" on snowshoes:

Skiing at Chief Joseph Pass:

Andrea sprawled in the snow after taking a tumble during a cross-country ski day near Mt. Baker:

 

I love winter.

cold weather biking

Until this fall, I have identified myself as a warm-weather biker.  Or even a fair-weather biker.  In the past, once that autumnal chill seeped into the air, I put away my bike for the season and resigned myself to having a longer commute time.  I do like walking to work--don't get me wrong.  But it can be difficult to make that shift from an 8-minute biking commute to a 22-minute walking commute.  I lose either 14 minutes of mellow morning time or 14 minutes of work.  On the flip side, I have an extra 14 minutes to ponder my life and my day and the world between home and work, and that's not such a bad thing.

This year, however, has been different.  The second week of October got cold and chilly and rainy, and I figured that was my sign to put the bike away and bring out the walking shoes.  The trouble was, October is my absolute busiest month at MNHC.  Two to six volunteers needed every day for our 4th grade field trips and auction auction auction (as my friend Ann said today, preparing for our auction is like preparing for a wedding . . . times two.  It is an Event).  So I couldn't really afford to take 28 minutes out of my day to walk.  Therefore, in the third week of October, I got out my thick gloves, fleece headband, and scarf, and started biking again.

And it's been great.  I love it!  I bundle up warmly, hop on my bike, and whoosh!  Off I go beneath the golden leaves of the trees, zooming down the streets of Missoula with the crisp morning air reddening my cheeks.  What I have realized, in the past 3 weeks, is that I am a one-weather-phenomenon-at-a-time biker.  I can handle cold.  I can handle rain.  But I don't do well with both of them together.  Perhaps one of these years I'll get fenders on my bike--that may just be the trick for cold-and-wet-weather biking.  Once the streets get snowy/icy/slushy, I'm done.  It'll be back to walking. 

But in the meantime, while the weather is crisp and clear and dry, the temps can get as frosty as they like--I'll still be riding my bike. 

tunnels of gold

I look out my window this sun-dappled Saturday afternoon and I see gold.  Across the street, our neighbor's birch tree's golden leaves shiver in the October breeze.  Three days ago their Norway maple was aflame with yellow fire, but now those leaves carpet the ground beneath.  Our Norway maples are just starting to turn, their leaves a pale golden-green that brightens the view from our western windows.  This week I biked to the university several times through tunnels of burnished bronze, vivid leaves arcing above and scattered below.  Soon all the leaves will have swirled down from their branches, but for a few days yet I'm surrounded by Midas-touched beauty.

Last weekend, Beth and Britta and I ambled up the Rattlesnake, admiring the swathes of paling green and yellow larches and bright cottonwoods scattered amongst the deep green of Ponderosa pines and Douglas-firs.

Last week, Kara and I took a hike up Mount Jumbo just before sunset, and all the grasses were awash in the late-afternoon sunlight.

A lone tree, on the cusp of assuming its fall garb:

I do so love living in a place with seasons.  Ten years ago, when I spent the semester in Egypt, I went straight from summer to winter and completely missed fall.  I found that I needed that time of transition, that jumping straight to winter from summer was disorienting.  There was no time of easing myself from one season to the other.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live near the equator, where the day length is always the same and the only seasonal difference comes in rainy vs. dry.  How would my perceptions of the world be different if the amount of light I got every day was the same throughout the year?  What difference does it make to me to live in a place where high summer brings nearly 16 hours of daylight and deep winter brings only 8 and a half hours? 

In 6th grade my friend Heather and I did a report on Sweden--"Land of the Midnight Sun"--and I remember reading that, before electric lights came along, Swedish farmers needed less sleep during the summer months, when there was much to do and, more importantly, when the nights were short, while in the winter months they slept much more when the nights were longer.  That is, their bodies' rhythms changed according to the amount of daylight.  (Remembering this tidbit makes me want to research this topic further!)  They were influenced by the natural rhythms of the physical world.

Perhaps I'm just looking for an excuse; I am finding it increasingly difficult to drag myself out of bed before the sun rises (today, the sun rose at 8:13, and we still have nearly two months to go before the winter solstice).  This is fine on the weekends, but on days I have to work the situation is less than ideal.  I wonder what would happen if we all got up and went to bed with the sun, no matter what time of year it was.  Would we be happier?  Healthier?  More effective in our work and play?  Would we be more tired in the summer, with less sleep, or would we find ourselves energized by the long, full days?  Would we be more content in the winter, able to curl up in our beds for long, cozy hours?  I wish I could attempt this experiment.  

Speaking of experiments, the results are in on one of our garden attempts this summer.  The question:  Can we grow sweet potatoes in Missoula?  We had an inkling of a possible answer ("Maybe, but you're probably crazy to try!") in the fact that only one company is willing to ship sweet potato slips to Montana.  We planted about 12 sweet potato plants this spring; nine of them went into the ground near the bean fence, and three went into big black pots in our "Row O' Pots."  Greg dug up the results of the ground-planted sweet po's more than a month ago, and found a few orangish roots the size of pencils.  Instead of letting him dig up the potted sweet potatoes at the same time, I convinced him to move the pots into our greenhouse to soak up heat from the fall sunshine and dig the roots up at a later date.  That later date turned out to be this past Wednesday, and this was our result:

Our conclusion:  Oh baby, oh baby, can we grow sweet potatoes in Missoula!  We've already had some in a delectable garden soup (along with other delights such as potatoes, onions, garlic, cabbage, and tomatoes), and are already looking forward to trying again next year, with even better results.

But for now, the sun is still shining, the leaves are more golden than ever, and it's time for this girl to get herself outdoors.  Au revoir!

why I love my job

My job at the Montana Natural History Center is one I enjoy for many reasons, not least of which is that my duties vary widely and I don't, generally, have a chance to get bored.  Other reasons (in no particular order):

**On a day when I'm running around like a crazy person trying to make sure everything's in order for our fundraiser (coming up later that week), my co-worker Alyssa, who's in charge of Camo the gophersnake, asks me to make sure that Camo has eaten his (dead) mouse for the week, and, if not, to fish it out and put it back in the freezer for next time.  (Thankfully, Camo ate his mouse!)

**I get to answer questions like, "Would MNHC be interested in taking my rock collection/seashells/bird's nest/skull?"

**My parents-in-law collect dead birds for me to put in the MNHC deep freeze, in the hopes that one day they'll be stuffed and put on display or used for a taxidermy workshop.

**I walk in the kitchen one January morning to find a dead great blue heron thawing on the floor, so it can be folded up to fit in the freezer.

**One of our bowls in the kitchen is designated as "Camo's bowl" and is used for defrosting his weekly mouse meal.

**Community members not only bring us rocks and skulls, but occasionally live animals, including chipmunks, birds, and spiders.  The chipmunks and birds we care for as best we can, or send along to more appropriate places, but we currently have 2 (live) black widow spiders in jars with very secure lids.

**I love and support MNHC's mission of educating people about the natural world.

**I get paid to do things like spend hours outside teaching kids about insects, scout local natural areas for field trips or other programs, learn about birds/bugs/skulls/aquatic insects/botany/winter ecology, record Field Notes in the KUFM studio on the UM campus, and, oh yes, once a year I get paid to dress up, spend an evening with amazing people, and watch community members give generously of their resources so that MNHC can keep teaching people about the world around them.

**When searching for materials in our (huge) program storage area, I may come across anything from a stuffed mountain goat to fossils to a walrus skull to ancient books on natural history.

**Every day is casual day.  I dress up sometimes because I like to, not because I have to.

**My co-workers are intelligent, wonderful people, who are first-class nature geeks.  I fit right in!

**My co-workers and I often get distracted by flowers and bird calls, and we always have a field guide near at hand for reference.

**I am always learning something new!

**Greg gets to teach/lead field days at MNHC a few times a year.

**I have learned more about the birds and plants and ecosystem of my place in the two and a half years of working at MNHC than I did in the four years of my graduate program.  Part of that, of course, is due to Greg.  But I have found a new passion in learning not only the names of the plants and animals around me, but in learning how they all fit together in this place I now call home. 

**I get to see firsthand the generosity of people from the Missoula community.  Those with monetary resources give generously.  Those with fewer funds still give a little.  Those with time (even a little bit) give in so many ways.  Right now I have dozens of volunteers who spend 5+ hours per day outdoors, teaching 4th graders about nature.  We've had some pleasant days this month, but many have been cool and rainy, and yet these volunteers layer up, pull on their wool socks and waterproof boots, their gloves and raincoats, and go on out there with energy and good cheer.

**I have gotten to know some of kindest, sweetest, most compassionate people I've ever met. 

**Not only do I get to satisfy the scientist in me, I also, as of now, get to use my writing and editing abilities as well, as the VERY-soon-to-be new editor of the Montana Naturalist magazine.  Exciting!

Even when I'm in the midst of the more busy and stressful times of year (e.g., NOW), I love the work, and, in general, feel energized rather than sapped by the busyness.  Though I admit, I'm looking forward to the winter months and the relative calm they bring.

I am so very grateful to love what I do.  

tomatoes and larches and autumn, oh my!

Tis autumn, which is, at the moment, my favorite season.  I find that my favorite season tends to change depending on which season it is:  my favorite season is whichever season I am currently experiencing.  But autumn holds a special place in my heart.  My birthday is in September; Greg's and my anniversary is in October; I grew up in a family of educators, so autumn was always a time of new things, of starting over.  Now I am married to an educator and I work for an organization that provides educational programs, so the autumn feeling of renewal is part of my life once again. 

Autumn means harvest.

Autumn means change.

Autumn means food preservation.

For the past five weekends, some combination of Greg, Beth, Britta, and I (plus various other friends) has bought and canned tomatoes.  The first weekend we bought 20 pounds of tomatoes and canned 7 quarts.  The second weekend we bought 40 pounds of tomatoes and canned 14 quarts.  The past three weekends we've bought 60 pounds of tomatoes and canned dozens of quarts of crushed tomatoes, numerous pints of salsa, as well as roasting and freezing perhaps two dozen medium-sized freezer bags of tomato sauce.   While canning tomatoes has been our tradition for the past three years, I don't think we've ever canned quite this enthusiastically before.  The first year we canned tomatoes, we were reluctant to use them--"What? Use our beautifully preserved tomatoes for some random dinner?  We can't do THAT!"  Fortunately, we've done enough canning by now that we eagerly use the food we've preserved--which is, after all, the point.  Our goal this fall is to can enough tomatoes to last us for the year, and we may be close.

We have so many cans of tomatoes this year, in fact, that we need more space for them.  I have mentioned in another post that we happen to live in a small house.  We are fortunate enough to have a large, if unfinished, basement, but it's nice to have our canned food a little more handy than that.  A few weeks ago I was headed to our upstairs Hobbit Room when a dazzling notion struck me.  Behind the door to the upstairs, at the end of our little hallway, is a blank wall with about four inches of space between the wall and the door hinges:

My dazzling notion?  To build shelves along that whole back wall to serve as storage space for our canned goods, tea, and other non-perishable food items.  I went to Ace and bought the lumber, and then, while Beth, Britta and I canned in the kitchen, my brilliantly handy husband built these (but very kindly allowed me to fill them):

TA-DA!

Oh, the delightful satisfaction that comes from making effective use of our spaces, even (or especially) those that seem too small to be useful.

This past weekend we also took our annual pilgrimage to see the alpine larches (Larix lyallii) changing color.  We hiked up to Glen Lake, a place we've visited many times before; even so, its beauty felt new and startling.  Perhaps it was the blueness of the sky after several days of rain:

Or the brightness of the changing huckleberry leaves:

Or the ethereal wisps of fireweed fluff, swirling away on the mountain breezes:

Or the striking juxtaposition of burned forest and lush regrowth:

Or the vivid yellow flame of changing larch needles:

Or the purity of the dazzling-white snow, and the way deep greens and bright yellows and greys and browns stood out against it:

Or the sky-deep reflection in the calm waters of the lake:

Or it may have been the combination of all these things.  

warrior goddess

. . . or something.

So, the story of me and exercise.  In general, I'm not really into "exercising."  I like to walk and bike, hike in the mountains, stay active, etc.  I like being fit.  But I like to stay fit by having a more-or-less active lifestyle.  When I was canvassing for North Carolina PIRG (i.e., walking 20 hours/week), this worked well.  Very well.  But working in an office, even though I bike or walk to work and am constantly running up and down the stairs at the office, does not quite cut it.  Being over 30 may make a difference, too.  (What?  I CAN'T eat whatever I want and not gain weight anymore?  HUH??)  The challenge, of course, is motivating myself to exercise.  Last year my friend Beth and I started running together several times a week, which was great.  We got to the point where we could run 5 miles fairly easily . . . and then we stopped.  Life got busy, our schedules changed, yadda yadda yadda.  This past spring, I decided to have a daily yoga practice for Lent, which worked out marvelously!  I did yoga every day for 47 days and it was fantastic.  Lent ended . . . and so did my yoga practice.  Sigh.

But now I am 32.  And right now, that is enough motivation for me to have a fitness regimen.  I'm rather amazed at myself, actually.  I wake up in the morning and think, "I'm going to do my workout today, because I AM 32!"  And it works!  I get out of bed, put in my contacts, move the coffee table out of the way, and do my exercising.   Who knew?

We'll see how long this lasts, I guess.  There's always the possibility that I'll get unmotivated and just drop it all.  Then again, I will be 32 for an entire year, and that may very well be all the motivation I need to keep this up.

For the past week and a half I've been doing an online workout called Warrior X-Fit.  My good friend Tricia recommended it to me a couple of years ago, and I finally decided to check it out.  I'm enjoying it, though the workouts are absolutely.  kicking.  my.  butt.  Limp, limp.  It's a well-thought out system.  First off, it's free.  Secondly, you get a completely different set of exercises to do every day of the month--that is, you never do the same exercise twice in the same month.  These exercises work every single part of your body, including muscles you didn't know you had (and trust me, two days after doing this workout, you wish you didn't have those muscles).  Thirdly, the only thing you need to do these exercises (if, that is, you need anything at all) is a resistance tube, which you can buy for ~$20.  Lastly, it only takes about 20-30 minutes, and, at the end, a voice proclaims in stentorian tones, "You have fought like a warrior!" Yes, I AM a warrior goddess!

The one thing I've learned, though, is that I can't do it every single day.  Thus, I alternate between Warrior X-Fit and yoga, and it's proved to be a good balance.  I certainly appreciate a morning of calm stretching, balancing, and breathing after a morning of jumping around and sweating. 

In other news, Greg and I have been enjoying an incredible tomato crop.  We haven't yet had our first frost (though we reached 33 degrees the other night), so the tomatoes are still going strong, their well-being assisted by the hoop house that Greg built last year (nicely done, eh?).

As you can see, the tomatoes are pretty happy.  Isn't this one a beauty?

We ordered the variety below from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, and are we ever so happy with that decision.  This is a chocolate striped tomato, with gorgeous green and red stripes that looks not quite ripe but is actually fully, deliciously ready to be eaten.  The taste of these tomatoes has nothing whatsoever in common with the taste of the hard, flavorless tomatoes you buy from the grocery store in January.  Biting into one of these delectable fruits is like reaching tastebud nirvana.  Mmmmm.

And, the eggcitement continues . . . with our first BLUE egg!  Isn't it gorgeous?

In non-food news, we have a couple of new acquisitions.  The first was inspired by a Saturday of cleaning, when I decided to wash some of the cat blankets.  Our dryer hasn't worked for months--we rarely used it, anyway--and we've been line drying all our laundry.  However, one of the few times I find a dryer handy is when I want to get all the cat hair out of a blanket, rug, etc.  Additionally, our washer is rather old, a top loader with an agitator, so we decided to go to Vann's and get an energy-efficient washer and dryer.  And hey, if it's a pretty red color at the same time, all the better!  Now we just need to update the basement . . .

Our second new acquisition was free, which is always a bonus.  Driving home from church a couple of weeks ago, we noticed a lovely purple loveseat on a neighbor's lawn.  We walked over to inspect it, deemed it in good condition, and carried it the two blocks home (receiving offers of help from two people on the way).  Basil has already laid claim to it . . .

Here's a view of the Missoula valley and the lovely autumnal hills from the Mount Jumbo saddle last Friday, when Kara and I took a long looping walk through grasslands and forest, and even startled a fat black bear in the underbrush!

And, because such cuteness MUST be shared with the world, Nutmeg and her Buddha expression (and yes, she is sitting on Greg's shoulders, per usual).  Mreow!

harvest time

It is fall, though it doesn't quite feel like it.  We are having unseasonably warm temps--high 80s and 90s--though it's gorgeously cool at night (mid-40s) and the sunlight is beginning to slant in a long, southerly kind of way.  School has begun, Greg is busy teaching, I am busy finding volunteers for MNHC's school programs . . . and we are both busy eating the glorious abundance of food from our garden.  It's tomato season, friends!  And boy, oh boy, are we rejoicing.

Pounds upon pounds of tomatoes, guarded by Basil:

And here, those same tomatoes cooked into sauce, along with our very own onions, peppers, garlic, basil, oregano, and parsley (the only thing in this sauce that did not come from our garden is a tablespoon of olive oil!):

Beautiful corn, tomatoes, peppers:

A meal made almost completely of veggies from our garden (except for the eggs): corn on the cob; an eggy scramble with tomatoes, onions, and peppers; and a saute of kale, onions, and carrots.  Yum.

Our own personal "CSA" box for my birthday weekend in Hamilton:

And, oh, yes, let's not forget about our Very First Peach Harvest--two, count them, TWO, peaches!  Yeah, they didn't last long.

And, perhaps most exciting of all, is this little brown jewel we found in the henhouse last week.  Folks, the ladies are layin'!

YUM.

Tonight we had edamame made with our very own soybeans (a new crop this year), and we are almost ready to harvest all our dry beans--black beans, red beans, yellow Hungarian beans, garbanzo beans.  Our onions are drying, we have fall carrots and beets and spinach and broccoli planted, and we are overwhelmed with cherry tomatoes.  I am amazed by the abundance.  Some crops have done much better this year than last year; some have done worse.  But we are still growing a satisfying amount of food.  I love being hungry and not having to go farther than the backyard to satisfy that hunger.  Isn't it incredible?  And we even have the ability to preserve our food, so that we can enjoy the tastes of summer in January.  We've blanched and frozen spinach and garlic scapes; frozen rhubarb and raspberries; cooked and frozen tomato sauce; canned crushed tomatoes; dried garlic and onions; put potatoes and beets into the cold cellar.  Isn't food amazing?  And isn't it amazing that we can grow it ourselves?  It still seems like a miracle, even after our third summer of gardening.  

The biggest of excitement of last week was, of course, the EGGS.  We've been caring for our ladies since they were four days old, in mid-April, and now they're grown up and starting to lay eggs.  We THINK it was Buttercup who's been laying the eggs, but it's hard to tell since we're not always around when the eggs are being laid!  The first two were laid right in the nest box, where they were supposed to be, but the third was laid in the middle of the coop (after a day's hiatus), and today there were no eggs.  Greg and I are sincerely hoping that the chickens aren't eating their own eggs (which we've heard they'll do sometimes), but we're a bit confused about the lack of eggs these past couple of days, especially when Henrietta and Buttercup are squawking and clucking emphatically about once a day, as chickens generally do before (and while) laying eggs.   Any insight from chicken owners out there?  I'm sure it will all work out, but I'm impatient to start eating eggs exclusively from our very own chickens.  Fingers crossed.

Here's to fall, to harvest, to life and abundance from our beautiful earth.  Here's to the richness and sweetness of this part of the cycle.  Yum.

impending 32ness

Today is Saturday, September 3rd.  Two days until my birthday.  Two days until I turn 32.

Most people, it seems, see 30 as a seminal birthday.  My 30th birthday was less than a month before my wedding, so I had other things on my mind.  Besides, 30 has never been as much of a landmark to me as 32.  To understand why, we have to go back a few years . . . 19, to be precise.

7th grade.  Junior high.  I'm in Mr. Crull's math class at Sioux Center Christian.  A few decades before THAT, Mr. Crull himself was in high school, and his basketball jersey number was--you guessed it--32.  It became his favorite number.  Years later, as a math teacher, he created math problems that used the number 32 incessantly.  Use your imagination.  Suffice it say that when I was in the 7th grade, 32 was a number I detested.  Enough, already, Mr. Crull!!

But then 8th grade rolled around.  I still had Mr. Crull for math.  And he still used the number 32 . . . again, and again, and again.  And I was just too tired to spend my energy hating that number.  I figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

The rest is history.

So, for the past 18 years, this beautiful, balanced, elegant number has been a part of who I am.  I am A Person Whose Favorite Number is 32.  I am a 32-Lover.  I feel much affection for this number that keeps showing up in my life in myriad unexpected ways (but always, always, the number of ways is a product of 32 . . . or has a 32 in it . . . or is related to 32 in some way.  ALWAYS).

When I talked to my parents this past week, they mentioned that they had had the opportunity to talk to the Crulls.  And apparently my impending 32nd birthday came up, and the fact that this birthday is an important one.  Funny how everything comes back around.

So, in two days, I turn 32.  I'm excited, but a little nervous.  Turning 32 feels like a lot of pressure.  Pressure to make this year special, to make it different, to somehow manage to do all the thousands of things I have been wanting (and meaning) to do for years.  Write a novel.  Have an essay or three published.  Succeed brilliantly in being the new editor of the Montana Naturalist magazine.  Do yoga regularly.  Run regularly.  Travel to some exotic place I've never visited before (Uganda? Crete?  Svalbard?).  Study a new language (or learn a formerly-studied one better).  And the list goes on . . .

Instead of feeling pressure, though, I want to feel freedom.  The wild wonder of being that magical age, of embodying that magical number 32.  What can I do with this year?  What can I begin?  What can I accomplish?  Perhaps, just perhaps, turning 32 will be the motivation I need to embark on a new venture (or seven, or--wait for it--32).  What wonders will this year hold?  I am so looking forward to finding out.