Camping

It's hard to believe I hadn't been camping in six years.

That means for six years I haven't spent more than half a day disconnected from the Internet. I've been at this point where I'm almost afraid to be away from the World Wide Web. I worry, something is going to happen and I'm going to miss it; it will be too hard to catch up. Yet, as I write this I already feel it's all wrong.

My fear of being disconnected has waned. In fact, I now want to spend more time away.

Camping meant something different for each of us.

For the boy, it was his very first time. We asked him what he liked the best, and he didn't have an answer. But, he did like it.

I'm pretty sure his favorite part of the weekend was the 4-wheeler rides. Not exactly my idea of what camping is about, but I happen to be a bit of a thrill seeker, so I won't complain about the experience. And, the boy was thrilled.

He also loved the big mud puddle with the frogs. He almost lost his favorite Phineas & Ferb Crocs trying to catch one of the slippery critters.

As I watched the boy, and now reflect on his experience, I am most happy for his time outside. For two days, he was allowed inside only to sleep. He had no TV, no computer, no tablet. He seemed at times like he might be bored and he had to just accept it. Not a bad thing for him to learn. And, he fell asleep in front of the fire.

Camping was a special time for the dog. Our mutt, who will normally bolt the second she sees freedom, stuck around our camp unleashed without issue. If she wandered too far, she came when we called her back. I loved spending time with her that way. It makes we want to spend more time working with her at home so that we can enjoy her in the same way in our backyard.

I can't exactly say what camping meant for Papa Bear. He is his own grown up person. I know he, too, enjoys being away. He talked about wanting to join the club where we were invited to stay, so surely it was a weekend he would like to repeat.

Camping for me means PEACE.

The time in the canoe was the best. My boys were in the back uncomfortably shifting and worried they would fall out. No, I didn't like that they were uncomfortable. But, I was in front taking in the quiet sounds of nature. The feeling of drifting on the water, the gentle rocking of the canoe soothes my being even over the griping of the uncomfortable boys. I happily fell into the job of keeping the canoe on course as we drifted along the shoreline. Every now in then I put down the paddle and picked up the camera. I could have spent the entire day -- days even -- drifting in the canoe.

To be honest, even the 4-wheeler rides were peaceful in a way. Riding through the woods with the wind in my air, watching the scenery and very few other people for miles around. It was a bit of a thrill and felt like freedom.

And, of course, nights by the campfire will always help to bring me peace.

Perhaps, tomorrow, I will tell you about one last highlight, Spring Pond Bog.

For now, it is time for me to bring the peace I found camping into my productive life and get my day going.

Fresh Beginnings

I'm setting new goals.

Fall -- back-to-school season -- has always seemed to me like an exciting time. Even for the many years I wasn't in school, and didn't have a child in school, it has seemed like a good time for fresh beginnings.

This year, with the boy headed to Kindergarten and with my work life changing, the fresh beginnings vibe is as strong as ever. It might be right there at the same level is was as I headed off to college. Choosing what I will do with my time, is like choosing new classes and then buying books.

The possibilities seem endless for me. There are so many things I want to do and could do. I need to make some decisions and stick to them. That is goal No. 1: Decide what my goals are.

I'm working through some and have settled on a few:

- WRITE MORE!

- PACK AWESOME LUNCHES

- WAKE UP EARLIER

I realize the write more goal has come up about 50 times before. And, here it is again. It won't always be good writing, but I'll write something every day.

Packing awesome lunches can be for the whole family. I'm focused on the boy, but there's no reason hubby can't get awesome homemade lunches, too. I want both of them to WANT the lunches I pack over what they can get at school and work.

So, I'm a little obsessed lately with food blogs that focus on kids. Weelicious and Red, Round and Green are two of my favorites, but I'm finding many others.

I need to make sure this goal is fun. There's no reason it shouldn't be. I love feeding people, and these are the people I love. As long as I leave myself enough time and have enough fresh ideas, it will continue being fun. I'm sure I will write more about lunches very soon.

Waking up earlier is just so I can get a jump start on my goals before anyone else gets in my way. If I feel I've been productive before anyone throws me off course, I'll have a good day no matter what else happens.

As This Chapter Closes

Last night, after working at the paper, I drove home thinking about that chapter of my life coming to an end. I have no regrets. I don't regret my stint as copy editor/page designer at two different papers. And, I don't regret the decision to move on.

I think the most important thing I've gotten from working in news is a broader world view. When my job was producing TV listings, I didn't pay a lot of attention to the news beyond the headlines. I didn't want to get involved in the divisiveness of politics, and I couldn't wrap my head around world issues. I knew a little about local issues through word of mouth and gossip drenched in opinion.

Working at the paper has forced me to read stories about civil wars in Egypt and Syria, dismal working conditions in Bangladesh, failing economies in Europe and human rights issues in India. Every time I read these stories, I think about how lucky I am to live where I do. Some of them, especially stories such as those about collapsing garment factories, make me think about how my choices affect people so far from me.

While I feel lucky to live in this country, I worry our government is taking us in the wrong direction. Working in news has forced me to gain a better understanding of how our Legislature works. I'm not sure I could have had an intelligent conversation with my peers about politics before. I still tend to avoid those discussions, because I still despise the divisiveness of it, but now I know the issues.

I doubt I ever read a story about a sewer system before my job required it. Maybe I never will again. But, if I lived in a municipality with a sewer system, I might. I will definitely continue reading the stories about the issues in my town. I now have a far greater appreciation for local politics, our elected officials and all our public servants. It's hard for me to believe how little I knew about our community before working for the paper.

That brings me to my appreciation for the news media, especially the local paper. The media has a bad reputation in our society. It's thrashed for being one-sided, hiding the real news, sensationalizing, never reporting good news, reporting too much fluff, and on and on. There's probably truth in all those criticisms, but one fact remains: without the media we would be living in darkness. I probably could have written this whole post on why I value our local newspaper. My goal, though, is to just tell you why I value my time working for it. One big reason is the appreciation I've gained for its existence.

Now, I move forward. As I do, I will carry this experience with me. I will make an effort to stay up on world, national and local issues, even though my work doesn't require it. I'll do it, because being a citizen of this world requires it.

Five

He's already five.

He's still just five.

Five years to give him strong legs to run. Five years to give him arms to hug and a heart full of love.

In five years, he's learned so much, but he's only just begun. His curiosity keeps him asking questions and experimenting with new things every day. His enthusiasm keeps him eager for new adventures. His smile helps him find his way into the heart of nearly everyone he meets.

Oh, my boy! He turned five nearly a week ago and I watch him with amazement.

So independent! He figures out how to find his way. He moves chairs to reach when he's not tall enough. He finds the scissors to open his own packages. He's put together Legos, following instructions, without help - although he still prefers working with Mommy or Daddy.

So curious! He asks me about birds' ears and how our ears work. He tells me about an animal he learned about that walks on water. He watches my plants grow and learns with me about the insects that eat them. He experiments with mixing together anything he can think of. And, my boy, who doesn't like to eat anything unfamiliar, will sometimes "give it a try" because curiosity wins.

So creative and imaginative! He paints, he glues things together, he builds things without a plan or directions. He tells stories while playing with his toys on his own. He sets up performance and then calls us in to watch.

Still so little! All his independent curiosity and imagination must take its toll, because there are days he just can't pull himself together. He cries and can't find words. He asks to be carried in from the car, sometimes after just a short outing to the store. And, as trying as whining is, I remind myself, he's still just five.

At the end of the day, he longs for snuggles. He may have pushed me away a million times one day, but in the end he finds comfort in my hugs and kisses, and I have an infinite amount to give him.

Oh, how I love being Mom to five!

Seeds of purple

I didn't order very many new seeds this spring. I ordered a ton last year, then life got away from me and not much got planted. So, this winter, after taking stock of the seeds I had, I decided those 26 varieties were quite enough.

Then, I read somewhere that kohlrabi is easy to grow, and my family loves it. I decided I really didn't have enough carrot seeds. I couldn't live without cherry tomatoes. Wouldn't the bean tee-pee I want look gorgeous with scarlet runner beans? And, as long as I'm ordering, I wouldn't mind trying a different type of kale.

I'm not sure exactly what led me to Hudson Valley Seed Library, but there's a few things I like about it. First, they are the most local source I know of to buy seeds. Secondly, since I'm a visual person, I love the art on their seed packs. And, most usefully, I've been finding a lot of helpful tips on their blog. So, that's where I decided to order this year's seeds. It didn't really matter to me that they only have 60 varieties of seeds compared to the hundreds other seed supplier have. I only needed five.

So, a few weeks ago, when I decided I couldn't live without five more types of seeds, I clicked them into my shopping cart. While doing so, I picked up on the library's membership. Not only would the membership save me a bit on my order, but it would also get me in on their community seed saving project. Yes!

As if a project to teach me about seed saving isn't cool enough, the community seed is the Purple Podded Pea. Did someone just say I could have PURPLE and PEAS in my garden on the SAME plant? Let's just say, I couldn't sign up fast enough.

Today, my seeds came. I can't wait to put them in some dirt! If my garden turns out half as beautiful and bountiful as I'm dreaming ... wait, dream garden is the next post ...Pru

{Recipe} From a dream: Potato, Corn and Sausage Chowder

Sometimes while I lie in bed drifting off to sleep, I think about meals I might make the next day, or later in the week. I think about what ingredients I have on hand, and what I might need to buy. Frequently, this just leads to frustration, and may even keep me awake worrying.

On a good night, though, I come up with a great creation. Admittedly, my standards for "great creation" are pretty low. But, if I can come up with something that doesn't require a trip to the store and all three of us are willing to go for seconds, I think that's pretty great. That's what happened the other night.

I was thinking of the beefalo sausage I picked up at the farmers market last Saturday. I kind of wanted a soup, so I thought about what veggies I had and remembered the large amount of corn I froze in September. (Blanching corn, cutting the kernels from the cob and freezing the results has become a harvest-time ritual for me.) I also had a quart of corn cob stock left, and some Russet potatoes from KFF. 

OK, it was starting to come together. I just had to start with some sauteed onions, and decide on seasoning. By the time I needed to start dinner the next evening, I had a whole recipe in my head -- only there were still additions as I cooked. Here's the results:

Potato, corn and sausage chowder

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 medium onions, roughly chopped
• 1 to 1 1/2 pounds beefalo sausage (or whatever sausage suits you), either use bulk or cut links into 1/2-inch pieces
• 4 small to medium potatoes, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1 to 2 sweet red peppers (I pulled these from the freezer)
• salt and black pepper to taste
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/8 teaspoon chipotle chile pepper
• 4 cups corn stock (I'm sure vegetable stock would work fine)
• 1 cup whole milk
• 4 ounces cream cheese
• 8 ounces cheddar cheese, cubed or shredded

Brown the sausage, stirring occasionally, in a large skillet. Remove from heat and set aside.

While the sausage is cooking, heat the oil in a large soup pot. Add onions and saute until translucent, about 5 to 6 minutes. Add potatoes, peppers and seasoning and stir it all together. Add corn stock. Bring to a simmer, cover and let cook about 15 minutes until potatoes are just getting tender. 

Add cooked sausage and milk, and adjust seasoning. Cook until the soup returns to a simmer. Stir in cheeses until melted and everything is heated through. 

Ladle into bowl and let cool slightly before serving to children.

{Grow Write Guild} My gardening roots

Note: This is the first in a writing prompt series call Grow Write Guild I've decided to write along with. The prompts come from Gayla Trail at You Grow Girl, one of the gardening bloggers I enjoy following. The first prompt is "write about your first plant." My story is quite loosely based on Gayla's questions, but I'm taking the word "prompt" literally. I will be using her suggestions as a means to get writing with little attention to whether my direction has anything to do with what Gayla had in mind. I'm looking forward to this writing journey through the gardening season and would be honored to have you join me.

I grew up with gardeners. When I was a baby, Mom would put me down for a nap in my crib and go work in the garden at the bottom of our backyard hill. Once I was old enough, I was down there in the garden along side her.

When I recall specific memories of that garden, they aren't particularly fond. To be honest, none of my childhood vegetable gardens conjure specifically good memories, but I am nonetheless thankful for them. And, if I don't try to zero in on any particular moment in time, the thought of my childhood gardens bring an overall warm feeling of happiness.

Our neighborhood was built in an old apple orchard, and our backyard had several too-old-for-good-fruit apple trees. It seems the steep hill from the house to the garden was always littered with half-rotten apples regardless of the time of year. Incidentally, the swing set was at the bottom of the hill, too, so it wasn't as if I could avoid that walk even if I didn't want to garden. The trees may have shaded the hill, but at the bottom it was hot and sunny -- perfect for growing zucchini the size of a small child. Next to the garden was a raspberry patch. I loved raspberries, but bees and prickers made the berries nearly undesirable.

My grandparents, who we visited frequently, had an even larger garden. Grandma tried to get me to eat the Brussels sprouts she grew, but, thankfully, no one forced me, because Mom didn't like them, either. Grandma, grew beets, too. I didn't even realize Mom didn't like beets until I was an adult. I guess, when you're a kid you just gobble up the food that's yummy and don't take much notice of what others eat.

Later, my grandparents moved from Rockland County to their "camp" in the Adirondacks, and I think the garden got even bigger. In the new garden they grew potatoes, which have given me my absolute least favorite gardening memory -- picking potato beetles. To this day, I despise beetles of all kinds, and I'm not sure I'll ever have it in me to grow potatoes. I hated picking those potato beetles, but I managed, as a preteen, to do it with pride. There we were, three generations of gardeners, walking along the rows throwing those nasty creatures into coffee cans of turpentine, so we could eat the most delicious potatoes I've ever tasted.

So, why, if my earliest memories of gardening coincide with memories of rotten apples and potatoes beetles, would I want to garden as an adult? The answer is very simple: we had fresh veggies on our table all summer long. Unlike many of my peers, I love vegetables of all kinds (Brussels sprouts remain my one exception). If you need a second reason, I got to play in the dirt a lot, and I love the smell of dirt. Perhaps most importantly, that overall warm feeling of happiness is something I long to pass on to my son.