Creature Bug

Ninth Annual Tulip Tradition

It's spring!

Really, honest-to-goodness spring. With real sunshine. And warmth! (Unless you live in Colorado or Minnesota or one of those other states that spring has forgotten. In which case, I just want to cry for you. Snow on the first day of May would be enough to make me start selling furniture so I could buy a plane ticket to Hawaii. Hang in there.)

Here in the Pacific Northwest, however, we have made it through another winter, and now I can hopefully not worry about falling into the depths of rain-induced despair for many months.

Sarah and I got a bit distracted with whatever distracts us, and last week realized that we better get out to the tulip fields before they were all gone. This marks our ninth trip to the tulips. We started with 2 kids in 2005, then four in 2006, then five in 2008, six in 2010, and seven in 2012. We used to go to Woodburn, Oregon, and now we go to Woodland, Washington (yes, the town names still trip me up). We've gone in rain with umbrellas and boots; we've gone wearing shorts and flip flops. We've gone with Aunt Andrea. And almost always we go with cookies.

No matter what, though, we go.

As soon as we get there the girls sprint into the fields and start collecting all the petals that have fallen on the ground. They have strict instructions not to pick the flowers--which, of course, is very very hard not to do--and older kids periodically accuse younger kids of breaking the Pick No Flowers rule, but generally, they do pretty well.

Though they are happy with petals, their main goal is a find a whole tulip that has been knocked over by the wind. A tulip with its stem? That's gold.

The last few years I haven't been taking too many pictures because it's a little bit of "how many tulip pictures does a person need?" But this year I have my new camera, and my kids are old enough that I don't have to worry about them eating (too much) dirt, so I managed to snap a few more pictures than I usually get.

Of course, no matter what, there's always pictures to be taken. Who can pass up babies in tulips, or kids with tulip heads?

No one.

There they all are! Addie, Toby, Clover, Wavey, Jules, Sydney and Med.

And despite Sydney falling and scraping her leg, and despite Med's protests, Sarah and I decided that the weather was nice for not just ONE flower adventure but TWO.

From wide open tulip fields, we drove a mile down the road to a cute little perfectly manicured lilac garden.

It was beautiful.

It had dozens of lilac trees, and benches, and paths, and secret hiding spots. The kids played hide and seek and collected flower petals, and Addie and I strolled around smelling all the plants.

On the drive home Sydney said she wanted to go back and take pictures, and Clover wants to go back with her sketch pad, and I wouldn't mind going back with a book. And we could sit in the garden and just take it all in. I think that sounds like a very good idea.

So, if you're in the area, the tulip fields don't have too much more life left in them, but Hulda Klager Lilac Garden is open year round, and I suspect they have lots of things blooming all summer long.

I know that May 1st is traditionally when you go around surprising neighbors with flowers on their doorstep, but we opted to use our tradition to just surprise ourselves with flowers in the fields.

Another year, another tradition kept.

Friday's Quick Takes

: 1 :

Not too far down the road is a local greenhouse shop. Even though I have no memories of ever going there when I was a kid--and I know they were there--I've mostly staked it out as my go-to plant store. They are not the cheapest, although I can't imagine that they are the most expensive either. But they are local, and I drive by them almost every single day.

A week ago, they posted their opening date on their reader board: March 20. First day of spring.

Jules had asked when we were going back to the greenhouse, and I said, "We'll go there after school on the first day of spring."

Spring arrived.

It was cold and windy outside, but inside the greenhouses was exactly what spring should look like. My girls and my niece ran along the rows of flowers oohing and ahhing over all the pretty flowers. We walked in the first greenhouse and oh! Pansies! So each of the girls picked out a pansie.

We walked in the second greenhouse and oh! Hyacinths! So each of the girls picked out a hyacinth.

Yes, I'm a sucker for nice smelling plants.

Addie was so funny because she was just like the older girls: very specific about which plant she wanted. She could not be coerced into another color, no she could not. She wanted the burnt orange pansie and the blue hyacinth, no matter how much her sisters wanted her to get a flower that matched theirs.

(And, yes, she was only wearing socks. Because we could not find shoes. The end.)

Sydney picked out this purple daisy plant. It has a name. I am not a plant name rememberer.

: 2 :

My spring break is this coming week. I always love spring break because I always love school holidays. In terms of functionality, I can't do much other than what I always do on regular days because Jason and the girls have spring break the following week. Yep. Southern Washington's spring break is always the first week in April, and Northern Oregon's spring break is the last week in March. Ergo, for the rest of our professional careers, Jason and I will never have the same spring break.

If I worked full-time, this might be kinda miserable. But since I don't, then it's almost as if I get two spring breaks. Last year, I got my spring break, and then Jason and I went to Scotland during his. It's not a big deal for me to cancel classes at this point in the semester, so it's a win win for me.

: 3 :

My lovely sister's birthday was yesterday.

She had decided that for her birthday she wanted to get out of town, so she's spending several days in Belgium.

I told her that it sounds pretty fancy to me. "Oh, you know, thought I'd fly up to Belgium for my birthday."

The perks of living in Europe!

: 4 :

At the beginning of the year, I made a goal to read two books a month. Of course, for people who read a lot, two books doesn't sound like much. And while I used to read a lot, I just don't that much anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. I do read a lot. I just don't read a lot of books. I read lots of online essays, magazine essays, and the newspaper.

As for my goal? I've read one book this year. I've tried a couple others but quickly drop them. I don't want anything sad. Or dysfunctional. Or angry. Or melancholy. Pretty much anything with conflict gets pushed off my nightstand. I'm not especially keen on anything thought provoking either. High literature also might be out.

When summertime comes along and my seasonal mood disorders brightens up a bit, then I can try some of those books, but until then I'm stuck reading nothing.

I'm taking recommendations.

: 5 :

Last Sunday, on a last minute's notice, I ran in Portland's Shamrock Run. Jason's coworker was supposed to run it, but then he got hurt. So then Jason was going to run it, but then he got sick. So then he said I should run it.

The Shamrock has several different distances, and I was really hoping I was running the 5K or even the 8K, but no, I was running the 15k (just over 9 miles). Even though I've been running, and even though I'm running a half marathon at the end of April, I'm still not in terrific shape. I decided I would be happy if I could run it in under two hours.

And at 1:48 I made my goal. I'll save you the trouble of doing the math: that's just over 11 minutes a mile. I am a slow runner. I am at peace with my slowness, though, because I have no aspirations of becoming fast.

I was prepared for miserable weather, but lo and behold we had gorgeous weather.

Thank you Saint Patrick, patron saint of runners hoping for nice weather in the middle of March (okay, not really. but he could be).

: 6 :

For the past two weeks, Jason has had soccer games on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. This means that he doesn't get home until late on those nights. That rotation is now over, and so now he will only have late weeknight games two days a week instead of three.

Doing bedtime all by myself turns me into the worst possible version of myself. It doesn't help that I have two kids who require extensive separate bedtime routines, but that is no excuse.

I feel guilty about not being a better parent, which turns into a low grade depression, which makes me exhausted, which disconnects me from my family. Consequently, I am feeling low.

If you are the kind of person who prays, I would appreciate your prayers. I have charted my moods over the past four springs, and I now realize that I will probably just always struggle with March, April and May. It's not just because Jason coaches soccer during those months, it's also because I am ready for warmer weather like you wouldn't believe. The trick is to not get so miserable that when June comes along I can't bounce back.

: 7 :

So as to not leave on that bummer note: Whenever the sun does come out, here is a common sight along our driveway.

These three have a funny little dynamic going on, but they are just crazy about each other.

**

I hope you have a great weekend! For more Quick Takes, check out Jen's page.

The Early Bird...

...catches the sunrise.

Local school politics

A couple weeks ago, we were driving pass the local high school and Jules noticed people out on the sidewalk waving signs. She tried to read it, but then we passed by and she hadn't caught all the words. "What are those people waving?"

"Vote yes for schools," I told her.

And then I explained that we were voting on whether or not we should give Daddy's school more money.

"I vote no," she said.

"Really? Why?"

"Because we'll give money to the school but then they'll just give it right back to Daddy. It's just easier if we keep it in the first place."

I briefly basked in the fabulousness of my pragmatic daughter...

...and then gave her a tiny civics lesson on how taxes work. (She ended up agreeing that we should vote yes, but said maybe we could just keep our money so the school wouldn't have to worry about giving it back to us. I told her that was a very sensible idea.)

Despite the people waving signs and all the many roads dotted with Yes For Schools signs, the levy failed.

And despite the people waving signs and all the many roads dotted with Yes For Schools signs, I completely forgot that this was something I should be voting on. I'm sure I got my ballot in the mail, but I can't for the life of me find it.

(Sidenote: Ballots in the mail--while very convenient--are also very understated and easily forgotten for someone like me who rarely ever sends actual mail. Or remembers deadlines. That's why all my bills are auto-pay because I cannot remember to actually pay them. And, yes, I know that there are tips and tricks for remembering this sort of thing, but I don't care because I am stuck in my ways and will not be convinced to readjust my ways. Sorry about getting all boldy there, but it's a pet peeve of mine when people tell me how dangerous it is for auto-pay because yada yada yada you may end up bankrupt. Or something. If I didn't do auto-pay I would still end up bankrupt...from all the late fees. The end.)

Mail in ballots and auto pay ASIDE...

The levy failed.

I might not know, and perhaps not care much, if Jason hadn't told me that (1) the levy makes up 20% of the district's operating budget (because the state dramatically slashed school funding) and (2) it's a real possibility the district will have to declare bankruptcy if the levy doesn't pass when it comes before the voters again in April. Bankruptcy means another school district would take over, which would mean all the teachers would be fired and then rehired as needed.

Jason told me these two things last night as I stood in the kitchen cooking dinner. I admit it, I laughed in disbelief. And I laughed in belief too.

I can't imagine another local school district coming in and then not hiring back most of the teachers who are already at the school. Sure, they wouldn't hire everybody back, but I feel pretty confident that they would hire Jason. Because he's an awesome teacher.

But his awesomeness aside, he might not get hired back.

And then...I don't know what then. He starts looking for a job, I guess.

I'm not worried about it because I don't have the energy to spend on something that I feel 90% sure won't happen.

I'm not really sure what the chances are of the levy passing in April. We still have a sizable population that continues to struggle with the effects of the recession, so their personal budgets are limited. We also have a significant population of folks who strongly oppose taxes of any kind--education, library, fire department, you name it they don't want to pay for it--and lots of families who homeschool or send their kids to private school. Heck, we send our girls to the local private school, so aside from Jason's job we don't have a lot of personal incentive to vote for the levy because of the increase we'll see on our property taxes. I'm pretty sure most of the people I see on a daily basis won't vote yes in April because...well, there are lots of reasons, and I'm not going to presume to know what their reasons are.

But even if Jason wasn't working in the local school district, even if he was working in another school district, I'd still vote yes. I'd vote yes because my cousin's kids are in the school district. I'd vote yes because people in our church work for the school district. And I'd vote yes because I think public education is worth spending money on. I think having a good education is one of the best things you can give to a population. And for all the people who say, "School districts should just manage their money better," I say, look at the budget and figure out where the cuts should be made. I know that our school district had an outside auditor look over their budget and determine that they were making the best use of their resources as they possibly could. I can't speak to other schools, but I can speak for ours.

For legal reasons, lots of budget items can't be cut--special ed or fewer bus stops on roads that don't have sidewalks, for example.  No, the cuts would be made in arts funding, in teacher training, in security, and programs designed to help at-risk kids. The class sizes would get bigger, the school year would get shorter, and the students wouldn't get the education they deserve. People complain that today's youth lack critical thinking skills, but the solution isn't defunding education.

Sure, I'm biased on education. Jason and I are both teachers.

But I'm biased on education because I think it's important, and I think it's something a community should take pride in.

It's true, I'm not a poster child for public education. In my K-graduate school years, I attended two years at the local public high school and did my post-grad work at a state university. Otherwise, I'm a product of Christian education, for which I am grateful.

Regardless of that, Sydney and Jules and Addie and I will be waving our Vote Yes for Schools signs in April. We'll stand on the sidewalk, smile and wave.

Maybe cuteness will count for something.

And hopefully we won't have to think much about any of this after April.

What this is.

She noticed the paper in his truck, a picture of a smiling young face printed on the front. What's this? she asked.

And the whole world stopped for an instant as he considered the question.

What to say...how to answer. It is not the tragedy of Newtown, nor is it some newspaper account of someone far away.

It is the heartbreak that sits quietly in the halls at Jason's school. It's the heavy burden that the teachers carry daily.  It's a memorial service program. It's a student in his class, an 8th grader. She killed herself.

Jason made an attempt to explain it to Sydney and Jules, and although they are no strangers to death--they have gone to more funerals than I attended in the first 30 years of my life--this kind of death is different. It's not cancer. It's not old age. It's not pneumonia or kidney failure or results of a diabetic coma.

It's a kid who didn't want to see tomorrow.

He tried. He chose his words carefully, and avoided the really awful ones. But Jules saw through it.

Tears in her eyes, "It doesn't make any sense. Why would that happen?"

Whether you are 6 or 36 or 96, the question is the same: Why would that happen?

Jason was saved from more discussion when they arrived at the birthday party Jules was attending. She ran off to jump on huge inflated bounce houses, and Sydney didn't continue the conversation because she avoids overly emotional topics.

What he didn't tell them was that the smiling girl on the program was the second student in his class to take her life. A week before Christmas vacation started, the police came to his school and delivered the news to the principal, who in turn had the teachers deliver the news to their students.

Jason read a statement to his class, the class that Isabelle was in, the class that her best friend was in. They heard the news from him, completely unaware of what had happened.

And a week later, while most of the country collectively gasped and sobbed upon hearing about Newtown, Jason was still trying to help his students cope with the memorial service they had just attended. I texted him the morning of Newtown: You heard about the Connecticut shooting?

Yeah. I'm trying to ignore it with the kids right now.

No matter how big a national tragedy is, it's not going to be as personal as the one that happens in your classroom, in your school, your community, your neighborhood.

The school's staff and faculty returned from Christmas vacation with lessons planned about suicide prevention. They gave clinics to parents and community members. Discussion, awareness, prevention.

And yet.

Three weeks later, another student in his class. Another statement read to students.

Two days ago, teachers and students attended Anna's service, heard the words that were still echoing in their ears from Isabelle's service.

Three days ago, a 7th grader tried and failed to take his life.

Every day, the teachers follow up on students talking about suicide. Every single day. And the school year isn't even half over.

We wonder what is happening to these kids, what is happening in their lives that is making them see ending it as the best possible solution? While most of the nation is discussing guns and keeping schools safe from danger, this community can hardly keep up with the danger that is taking the students one by one. June 2011. January 2012. December 2012. January 2013.

Some people think it's because of bullying. Others say social media played a part (that link is specifically about Jason's students).

I think both those things only magnify a persistent lack of hope that these kids face. As a person of faith, I put my hope in the Jesus of the Bible. But as a person who has struggled with depression for 20 years--and had fleeting thoughts of suicide in my early 20s--I know that sometimes faith doesn't feel big enough for whatever you're going through.

It was big enough for me. And for that I'm thankful.

But faith isn't always an accessible discussion in public schools for reasons that I understand. So in its place, the teachers talk, the parents talk, the community talks, and everyone who believes in prayer prays.

And we hope that what we're doing is enough.

7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 22)

: 1 :

First and most importantly: Jason's birthday was on Wednesday.

Hooray for birthdays!

Actually, at this age I'm kinda past the ole "hooray for birthdays" thing because I don't especially enjoy getting older (I don't dislike it, but it's not going to break my Top 100 Favorite Things list). Nevertheless, Jason and I figure if you're going to get older you might as well be able to eat out on your birthday. He picked Spaghetti Factory, and then had the happiest of birthday experiences by listening to Sydney and Jules whine, complain and fight the whole.night.long.

It was super terrific.

: 2 :

On the way home from Jason's birthday dinner, Jason was telling Jules that in 10 years she'll be 16. "In ten years," he said, "you can drive me to my birthday dinner. Won't that be fun?"

"TEN YEARS?" she said, "Won't you be dead in 10 years?!"

Time is tricky concept to grasp.

: 3 :

I have a birthday coming up. Next Friday, in fact, I will turn the lovely age of 37. I don't care much about turning 37 except that it gets me a little closer to 40. And while I did just say that I'm not super duper excited about getting older, I am super duper excited about going to Hawaii when I'm 40. I may already be thinking about the swimsuit I will wear to Hawaii.

: 4 :

We've had a little bit of doggie drama on the farm. Greta (my parents' German Shorthaired Pointer) and Iggy (Ty and Sarah's yellow lab) got into something fishy. It was either a trout, a salmon, or a salamander. They then both proceeded to get salmon poisoning. Evidently, 90% of dogs die without treatment, and Greta was pretty close to not recovering. Iggy had the benefit of being a 100+ pound dog, and so had a little more fat reserves to fight off the dehydration. Greta, on the other hand, is still a puppy.

Dad took Greta to the vet, who gave her some antibiotics. The antibiotics worked on Iggy, but not on Greta. Dad had to take Greta back to the vet, and she stayed there last night. The good news is that they said she turned the corner this morning and had her appetite back. Looks like she'll recover just fine.

: 5 :

We had some amazing fog last week. Freezing fog, is the weatherly term for it. It was foggy, and it was freezing, and everything had frost on it. It was kind of like snow, except...not.

(Pardon the redundancy in photos if you follow me on Instagram.)

The railroad tracks near our house.

The country road that I usually run on. This is my usual spot for taking pictures. There are horses off to the left, and a big field and trees off to the right. For some reason, I just like taking pictures here.

Also, there's a great view of Mt. Hood from this road. But I don't have the kind of camera that makes it look as big as I see it in real life.

On Instagram, I titled this "Lucy in Narnia, circa 2013" because that's exactly what it reminded me of. It was day 3 of not seeing the sun, and I just felt like we were stuck in winter forever. Sydney makes a pretty good Lucy, yes?

The alternate title could have been "Sydney at future asphalt factory site." But I wasn't quite feeling the magic in that.

And here are the trees at school. Although walking to my classroom--downhill! on ice! in heels! with a bag full of textbooks!--is sometimes an adventure, it is always without fail a beautiful view. These trees are just perfection.

: 6 :

For no particular reason at all, I have been ridiculously crabby this week. Not just crabby, but angsty and moody and fidgety. It's not because I'm tired, because I've had two consecutive nights of 10+ hours of sleep. I'm just in a mood.

The one person that can almost instantly get me out of my mood, even if just momentarily?

Addie.

Every night I read books to her, and every night she picks out the two books that require batteries (they have sparkly lights on the last page). A couple months ago, the batteries had died on both books, but I replaced them.

"New batt-ries!" she says as she points to the back of the book.

"Yep. New batteries."

"Thank you," she says. Every single night.

: 7 :

I may be grumpy, but I know that tomorrow will be better. For one thing, tomorrow I have two spectacular things going on.

First of all, tomorrow I am going to see Young House Love (aka: The Petersiks) at Rejuvenation in Portland. And not all by myself either. Sister Sarah and friend Emily are going too. And it will be awesome.

I love John and Sherry. They inspired me to paint my kitchen cabinets, and for that I will always hold them near and dear to my heart.

Second of all, after the YHL amazingness, I am going to a spa with BFF Megan, and we will get massages and momentarily forget about all the things that make us grumpy.

I am very very very excited.

Happy Friday! Hope you have a great weekend.

{More Quick Takes here.}

 

Frosted window panes...

Yes, that's what I was humming this morning when I looked outside.

(The view off our back porch, looking north. The creek isn't really that green, just a trick of the light.)

The snow is from a few days ago, but until this afternoon it hadn't warmed up enough to melt it. And most beautifully, the window panes that are part of the deck's railings had frosted all over.

I got out my olloclip macro lens for my iPhone and captured a few pictures.

This one is from yesterday morning, when we were enjoying a two and a half hour delay for school resuming from Christmas break. Our roads weren't that icy, but the northern hillside was so the school gave us one final gift of sleeping in:

I just love looking at frost close up. It's so pretty. Makes me think that maybe I should print some of these off and display them during the cold post-Christmas months.

That one looks like a little frosty person, doesn't it?

This one is my favorite:

Makes me think of a little dancer, skating along our window.

Whenever I'm out photographing frost or snow, I always think of Wilson Bentley, famously known (by some people) as Snowflake Bentley. He captured some amazing photographs of snowflakes, and I even got to visit the Bentley exhibit in Jericho, Vermont. I was there in 2005 visiting Ty and Sarah before they moved back here. If you are ever in the area of Burlington, Vermont, then I highly recommend making the drive out to Jericho. I have one of Bentley's snowflake photographs, the children's book about him, and a snowflake necklace. You'd think I was a big snowflake fan, but I'm actually only a little bit of a fan. I like looking at snow, but I don't prefer to be in it for more than a couple days.

Anyway, our snow is pretty much all gone now, but it was pretty for a few days, and I suspect we'll have more frosted window panes this winter season.

My camera will be ready.

It's a Tulip

"What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing; it also depends on what kind of a person you are." ~C.S. Lewis

I had not intended to stop writing for two months. (And, let's be honest, it's really been much longer than that that I've been writing consistently.)

However, as we all know, there are a finite number of minutes in the day, and I decided that writing did not fit into those minutes. Primarily, I decided to make sleep a serious priority. And so if you are wondering where I have been, I will tell you: I was sleeping. The girls would go to bed, and then a few minutes later, I would too.

And since that left my day with few moments to pause, drink some tea uninterrupted and sit at the computer, then...well, here we are. Months later.

However!

Nevertheless!

But!

My school year has ended. My energy level is normalizing (ergo, I'm finding that I don't need 10 hours of sleep a night to function), and so I'm dusting off the keyboard and trying to remember how to put a sentence together.

Plus, Sarah and I went to see the tulips and any tulip excursion is incomplete until I splash those beautiful pictures all over my blog. I can give up writing for months at a time, but as soon as tulips make their way into my camera's viewfinder, I get this urge to start writing about it. Tulips and blogging. They are inextricably linked in my psyche.

Once upon a time, eight years ago, Sarah and I started this funny little tradition of taking our kids to see tulips. Rain or shine, pregnancy or carrying a newborn, we have gone. We never have a particular day marked on our calendar to go, but it's as faithful to arrive as any other annual holiday. We just have to go because that's what we do.

This was a year of firsts for us. The first year for Wavey's first tulip adventure. The first year of 80 degree weather. The first year we relied heavily on our iPhones for most of our photography (in fact, Sarah didn't even take along another camera). It's true. I'm rather smitten with iPhonography.

(Sidenote: Since getting my iPhone in February, I have taken up Instagramming. I am a teensy tiny bit addicted to Instagram--a photo sharing app, for those of you who aren't familiar with it--and if you're on there, find me! I'm @stephstaley.)

I snapped and edited this little gem all with my phone.

Not with my phone?

The group shot.

Behold the seven cousins! We don't fuss about perfect expressions anymore. If you're facing the camera, then it's good enough.

This wasn't Addie's first year, but it was her first year as a fully mobile child.

You know what she did with those strong little legs of hers?

She found every single mud puddle and went walking in it. Admittedly, I was a bit surprised that there were puddles at all after the string of hot weathered days we'd had. One might even say I was a bit suspicious that the puddles were there naturally....without any orchestrating from the tulip people...who may or may not think it's funny to see children getting muddy and mothers getting frantic that the perfect photo op is going to be ruined. Mmhmm. I've got my eye on those tulippers. Very crafty.

As it just so happened, though, I did not care that Addie tromped and splashed through all the puddles. She was happy doing it, and I was happy to let her (until she started throwing mud at her cousin, at which I drew the line).

It was a fun time, and always makes me wish I had acres of tulips in my yard. I never grow tired of tulips. Hands down, one of my favorite flowers.

If you want to see more of our tulip adventures, I somehow managed to get a handful up on Flickr.

Tulips? Done and done.

Revisiting my habit of blogging more consistently? Well, I got this far.

Give the credit to the tulips.

A very sincere pumpkin patch

For the life of me, I cannot recall ever going to a pumpkin patch when I was a kid. I know they must have existed because Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin movie is from 1966, and I was born WAY after that...well, perhaps I exaggerate that point. But the real point is I don't remember pumpkin patches.

I suppose my girls also may not remember pumpkin patches, but I have the pictures to prove they were there.

Like today. It was field trip day for Jules's pre-school, so we drove down the road for our semi-annual visit to BiZi Farms, and even though it was cold and rainy, that didn't stop us. You can't keep a good pumpkin adventure down on account of rain.

Sydney actually should have been at school today, but she's been feeling a little under the weather so I let her stay home today to sleep in. And then I realized too late that I was going to be hauling her out in the cold rain to tromp through mud puddles and pumpkin fields. Good grief. At least she was happy to be at the pumpkin patch with her cousins. Positive feelings are healing too, right?

Last year, Addie was strapped to my front as a sleepy uninterested one-month old. This year, she was strapped to my back as a (still) pretty uninterested one year old.

I'm sure the weather was to blame for dampening her adventurous spirit. She got to sit on a hay bale and that was about all she was up for.

The big sisters, though, were all about petting the animals, climbing the hay pyramid, and searching for a pumpkin out in the fields.

Jules and Toby race to the top. Victorious hay pyramid conquerors!

Sarah and Med conquer the hay pyramid too. Woo hoo! (And, yes, that's pretty much what the sky looked like.) Addie and I didn't climb the pyramid. Maybe next year.

Finally the time comes to catch the perfect pumpkin.

Sydney caught one!

Jules caught one too!

Whew. It's serious business getting pumpkins.

And for reasons I can't explain, it's become serious business taking pictures of pumpkins. I don't know what it is, but there's something about autumn and pumpkins that makes me want to bring out my Photoshop textures. It's a quirk of mine, I admit it.

Seriously. There is no point to this photo at all except that it makes me happy to see those grainy edges. The girls conquered pumpkins in the field. I conquered them in Photoshop. At the end of the day? We both ended up eating pumpkin cookies that Jason made. Win.

All in all, it was just the right kind of day to visit a pumpkin patch that I think Linus himself would consider to be a very sincere pumpkin patch indeed. Will The Great Pumpkin visit our local pumpkin patch? We shall see.

Poolside

As I sit here typing, I can hear raindrops on the roof. It's not an uncommon sound, of course. I'm actually hoping that it will rain and rain and rain for the next few days so that on Saturday--when we're having Sydney's birthday party--Mother Nature will be all rained out and it'll be nothing but sunshine. So I say, bring on the rain! Until Friday night. Then the skies have to clear up.

My rain tolerance level has also been helped out by tonight's photo editing. We had a few really nice days, nice enough to warrant some playing in the water. No, not nice enough to play in the creek. The water is still too high for that, but a trampoline and a sprinkler go a long ways.

 

Big kids can do trampoline and sprinklers, but babies can't be invited to that jumping party, so Jules convinced me we needed to get something for Addie.

Off to Walmart we went.

On our list:

• sunscreen
• yellow jacket traps (three days later we have trapped exactly ZERO bees despite seeing them around; I suppose they just aren't hungry enough to go into the traps)
• little pool for Addie

And, okay, we picked up a slip-n-slide and some powdered donuts too. There's a reason why Jules likes to go shopping with me.

The little pool was a big hit.

Even when the wind picked up a little and it started getting a bit chilly, Addie did not want to get out of the pool. The girl loves water in a serious way.

She also loves dollar store mermaids that I find disturbingly hideous. But don't take her toys away, or there's trouble in the water.

You can't quite see it from here, but Addie's got a little something going on on the back of her head:

Those are curls sprouting, folks.

In fact...I think...yes, here it is.

Here's a picture I took of Jules three years ago.

The curls start here, and it only gets curlier from here.

But back to the water fun...

Not only was the pool popular with the littles, the slip-n-slide proved to be pretty fun too.

They'd slide and slide, and then get cold and go jump in the little pool (which they dubbed "the hot tub") to warm up.

When you live where I do, there is no promise that the weather ever gets nice enough for swimsuits before mid-July. So when those days come in late spring, it's such a surprise. So surprising, in fact, you might even forget to put on sunscreen and end up with rosy pink arms.

But we won't be surprised anymore. Last week was a practice run for summer, giving us a chance to shake the dust off the summer blankets and dig through our drawers for shorts and swimsuits. We have to make sure we're ready so that when summer starts in earnest, we aren't spending our time in the car trying to find sunscreen and slip-n-slides.

Hopefully it won't be another six weeks before we can wear them again. (Well, in fact, I will get to wear my summer stuff in a mere ten days when I walk off a plane in Hawaii. Aloha!)

Summer is coming. Days of playing at the creek, of hanging swimsuits over the deck railing, of feeling sand underfoot even when we're inside the house. I've already turned in my final grades, and Sydney's last day of school is on Friday.

We were so happy about last week's sunshine that Addie even learned our celebration moves.

She knows a good thing when she sees it.

Pretty in Pink

Around these parts it's a rite of passage to be plopped down in a field of tulips and get your picture taken.

Come on, local peeps. Raise your hands if you've ever been to the tulip fields.

As far as my girls know, every year we go see tulips. And they're starting to figure out that tulip fields--while very pretty--aren't very exciting. After a few minutes, Jules asks, "What are we supposed to be doing?"

"Looking at the tulips," I say. And then Jules picks a tulip. "But we're not supposed to pick them."

She frowns. I don't blame her. Thousands and thousands of beautiful flowers, but don't pick them! It's a bit torturous for little girls whose very DNA compels them to pick flowers. I suggest she find some tulips that have already fallen onto the ground. This entertains her and Sydney for awhile. Long enough for some pictures.

Even though every year for the past six years, Sarah and I have made it our mission to take the girls to the Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm in Woodburn, this year we kind of ran out of time to do it together. Or scheduling. Or something. I could have skipped it except Addie needed her picture taken in the tulips. It's the rules.

So I made Jason go with me. He was a good sport.

Also? We didn't go to Woodburn. Turns out there's another tulip field just north of us in Woodland (and, yes, I consistently call Woodland "Woodburn" and expect to do so for the rest of my life), and a 20-minute drive sounded much more enjoyable than a 55-minute drive.

The weather was absolutely perfect. Not great photo-taking weather because the sun was so bright, but you won't hear me complaining about too much sun. I'll take squinty-eyed, shadowy photos over rained out ones any day.

Addie thought the tulips were tasty fun.

The girls were trying to decide which color was their favorite. Of course, it was pink. But which shade of pink? My dream is to someday have rows and rows of tulips. And I might just make them all pink. It's my favorite color, after all.

Hello there, gorgeous. How about if I plant you and 100 of your friends in my yard?

Jules took this picture:

And this one. She was pretty fond of the white tulips.

Sydney took this next one.

If you ever need a little boost of confidence in taking pictures, just go to a tulip farm. You can hardly go wrong.

You also can't go wrong with photos of kids posing as tulip heads.

Unless, of course, you get hands sprouting out of cutouts instead of faces.

Our trip to the fields was a quick one, and even though the Woodland fields were quite a bit smaller than the Woodburn fields, it was a lovely little place. Considering the parking is cheaper and the distance is shorter, I think we might have found a new spot for our traditional trip to the tulips.

Snow Surprise

I am rarely surprised by our weather.

Eight months out of the year it's so maddeningly consistent with rain that I'll sometimes go weeks without watching the weather report just so that I'll be delighted and amazed when we actually have sun. Everyone else knew there would be sun, but I just wake up and think, "OH! It's sunny! Amazing!"

You have to do something to make the weather interesting.

Not related to weather, but related to natural events: Monday there was an earthquake here. Something like 4.3. My dad called me and said, "I think there was an earthquake. Did you feel it? Or is my house sliding down the bank?" I hadn't felt it--presumably because I was bouncing a baby not because I'm oblivious to the ground shaking--but I checked Twitter (the gold standard of instant news gratification) and sure enough there was an earthquake.

Anyway. Today.

Today it snowed.

Snowed!

I had no idea we'd get snow. It started out mixed rain and snow as Sydney was getting ready for school, and then these humongous flakes started falling.

As I drove Sydney to school, we were all crazy amazed. I was kind of bummed that Sydney was going to school and the rest of us were going to have a snow day, and I was briefly tempted to just keep driving past the school and bring her back home, but I didn't. Sydney doesn't really like playing in the snow that much anyway. She got to catch a few flakes on her tongue walking from the car to the school, so that was probably good enough.

Once we got home, Jules, Addie and I got on our snow gear (odd that we have snow gear at all since we hardly ever have snow), and headed outside.

For as much as I hate being cold and would never call myself a winter weather person, I've always found something calming about snow falling. I'm sure it has to be the sound. Being surrounded by the sound of shush shush shush as the snow falls is so...relaxing, and dare I say it: peaceful. Maybe it sounds corny, but it's true for me.

Snow just makes everything quieter and prettier--even the Mule hauling garbage bins out to the road. Well, sure, it's not exactly beautiful, but it just seems to make me smile a little more.

Did I say everything was quieter and more beautiful?

No offense, Doogie. My hair gets pretty flat in the snow too.

I think Jules knows what I mean.

Even though Sydney and cousin Amanda had school, we still got some play time in with cousins Clover and Toby and Med. Ah, one of the many advantages of homeschool.

I have to call it a personal victory that I got Toby to smile for the camera. She loves to make very serious faces at me if I get a camera pointed in her direction.

Another reason why snow is amazing. It makes kids so happy they forget to be serious.

Jules asked me to eat this snow. I did. It was tasty. It might have been better with some super sweet fruity syrup, but let's not think of summer. I'm enjoying the snow for the moment.

And so we tossed snow at each other, caught flakes on our eyelashes and cheeks and tongue, and constructed the obligatory and charming snowman.

And then Grandpa Steve came along and gave the kiddos sled rides behind the Mule. I admit I wanted a sled ride too, but I passed it up. I could see Jules was nearing the end of her snow limit. So I hung back and had a nice chat with Sarah.

Sarah was surprised about the snow too. We got to be delighted together.

Soon enough Jules was freezing and there might have been a few tears about cold fingers and toes, but it was nothing a warm bath and hot chocolate couldn't fix.

You know, there are a lot of predictable things in my life. And generally speaking that's a good thing. Unpredictable things can be scary.

But every so often, a surprise snow shower comes along, and I just have to love it.

And because I loved it so much, I was inspired to Skype up my sister in Scotland to say hey.

Good surprises all the way around. Happy Wednesday!

O Christmas Tree

O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging.
O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging.

Not only green when summer's here,
But also when 'tis cold and drear.
O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging.

Sunday afternoon we got our tree.

We had thought about going up to the mountains to cut one down, but the snow levels have been so low we were afraid we wouldn't be able to maneuver our vehicle around. So, we--along with Jason's parents--drove a few minutes north to a tree farm in La Center, and choppity chopped one down.

The farm only had nobles, which was perfect since those are our Christmas tree variety of choice. It used to be that noble firs were really expensive (as in $50-$100 expensive), but then--as the tree farm owners told us--10 years ago, lots of folks planted Christmas trees for the tax break, so now the market is glutted with them. Hooray for consumers. Hooray for $20 trees. Hooray for the Pacific Northwest...home of the noble fir.

I never thought about it until last year that a lot of people don't live around Christmas tree farms like we do (there are hundreds of Christmas tree farms within a 70 mile radius of our house). Sure, we still have tree lots for people who don't want to drive to a farm, but it's local trees on the lots.

It's big business shipping Christmas trees from the PacNW to other parts of the country, so I suppose they must end up on a tree lot somewhere. Aren't they expensive though? Now I'm dying to know. How do you get a tree? 

 

As you can see, it was muddy muddy muddy, but we all wore boots, so it was just a grand time. I love walking through mud in boots. I makes me feel oddly powerful against the elements.

Put on some boots, strap a baby to my chest, add in the scent of fir trees, and I'm ready to get a cape and call myself the Christmas Tree Crusader. Or Tree Farm Feminista.

Saving the world from the perils of sappy hands. Seriously. Have you ever had tree sap on your hands? It's so annoying.

The girls had lots of fun running around trying to decide which tree was the best tree. And when they tired of that, they threw sticks at each other. Nothing says Fun Family Tradition like a stick in your eye.

In the end we found the perfect tree, and invited it back to our home for hot chocolate and popcorn.

I know a lot of people don't do real Christmas trees anymore, but I couldn't bear to give it up. I love it too much. The stomping around the farm, the sound of cutting the tree, the scent of the tree in our house--I have to have it.

Have to.

O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me.
O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me.

How often has the Christmas tree
Afforded me the greatest glee!
O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!

O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
How richly God has decked thee!
O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
How richly God has decked thee!

Thou bidst us true and faithful be
And trust in God unchangingly.
O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!
How richly God has decked thee!

[Photos taken with my Droid using the Retro Camera app.]

Everyone Loves a Parade

The small blink-and-you'll-miss-it town that I live in doesn't have much going for it in terms of services. We rely heavily on the surrounding towns--and traveling across the river into Portland--for pretty much everything. As an unincorporated area, we don't have a mayor, a city council, a library, a stoplight, or much in the way of sidewalks. We used to have a bank, but a few years ago they moved out.

However, we do have a post office, a general store, a salon, a vet clinic, a Curves, a tavern, a discount beer and cigarette store, and some miscellaneous repair shops that I've never quite determined what it is they do.

We also have a parade.

A few years ago, faced with the prospect of an asphalt plant moving into town (to the field on the far side of this photo), some community members decided that our town needed something positive the town could be known for.

So they organized a parade.

It's definitely a tiny parade, but it's fun.

Especially since my dad always makes sure to enter the Family Farm as a parade participant.

Last year, it dumped down rain, but we proudly drove the Mule down the parade route, Sydney and Jules shining their light-up fairy wands as Amanda and Grandma waved at the crowd.

 

This year I opted not to ride along with my dad and the kids, and instead watched from the sidelines. We were lucky to have a few hours of clear weather this morning, so no rain on this parade.

It was Addie's very first parade. She was super duper impressed. She loved the theme of Wild Wild West because it meant lots of cowboy hats and horses. And she also loved the golf cart ride from our house to the parade route (a surefire sign that you live in a small town: when you can drive a golf cart on the road).

We waved at the Air Force JROTC kids, but they didn't wave back.

Not much spirit, I'd say.

Oh wait.

I guess they aren't supposed to wave.

Never mind then.

We were happy to hear the marching band because everyone knows it's not really a parade unless you have a marching band.

The one thing Addie didn't much care for?

The fire trucks. They were loud. But they waved!

And we're thankful for those fire trucks because they had to come out to the farm last summer when Jason was attacked by bees. Yay for paramedics!

There were plenty of politicians who made an appearance in the parade. Since moving back to Washington, I haven't quite invested myself in the political scene so I don't know anything about anyone.

I don't know who Denny Heck is, but I think his slogan is funny. We also have a Shotwell who's running for Sheriff. Ha! Shotwell! Sheriff! Our town doesn't even have a sheriff--and I don't even know what a sheriff does--but if I had a name like Shotwell then I might run for sheriff too.

Alas, my last name isn't clever at all.

Hello, Amazia vets! Thank you for taking care of our pets. We appreciate you.

And last but definitely not least, as the final entrant in this year's spirit parade...

The Family Farm!

My dad really got into the spirit of the parade's theme and spent yesterday building a covered wagon.

The kids thought it was great that they got to ride in the wagon. They waved and smiled and were content in the knowledge that their parents were collecting candy for them since they couldn't grab any themselves. Oh parade candy. How you plague me. People really should just throw Tootsie Rolls. They are the only candy worth eating.

Even though my girls don't actually own any cowboy boots, or a cowboy hat, or any "wild west" stuff, they looked super adorable with bandannas wrapped around their necks and, for Sydney, french braids.

(When did french braids become a symbol of pioneer living? I wonder if the tv show of Little House on the Prairie has something to do with it.)

Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of my older girls (I know! Terrible!), but you can trust me: they were cute.

I did get a picture of my youngest girl, who on the occasion of her very first parade experience, learned a very important lesson:

Fire prevention is important, it's true.

The other important lesson: Even with those loud fire trucks, parades are fun.

Reasons I'm Not Sitting at my Computer

Alternate Title: Summer has FINALLY arrived.

Alternate Title 2: My Ankles are Swollen and My Pregnancy Weight Goal is Totally Not Going to Hold, but it's all worth it for some sunshine.

Alternate Title 3: The Office (aka Computer Room) is the One Room in Our House Without AC.

Alternate Title 4: I Don't Care if it Does Hit Triple Digits! Praise God it's NOT RAINING.

Week 311: The rains came down, and the floods came up

Generally speaking, writing about rain is a bit of a non-story here in the Pacific Northwest. If I had a weather blog devoted to the drama of the local skies, it would be rather boring.

Day 1: Rain. Never saw blue skies.

Day 2: Morning showers. Afternoon clouds.

Day 3: Sprinkles, followed by showers, followed by torrential downpour, and then gray skies.

Day 4-365: Various weather patterns with a chance for rain 90% of the time.

The obvious reason for the non-existence of such a blog is that it rains often enough that it's not interesting to write about. True, we have a whole vocabulary devoted to the kinds of wet weather we get (that's linguistically interesting stuff), and I suppose psychologists have no trouble filling up their case studies with people who have Seasonal Affective Disorder (that's medically interesting stuff). 

Also true: we get sunny days too--I looked it up, and evidently on average we receive 155 days of sunshine a year--and if you were to consider today, and Saturday (but not Sunday) it would appear that we might be heading into summer.

Raise your hand if you're a local and you think summer is right around the corner.

In April we set the (local) record for number of rainy days: 25.

In late May and early June we set the record for number of consecutive days of rain: 19.

NINETEEN.

Nineteen days of rain. Can I do the math for you? That's almost three weeks of soggy weather. And believe me, our rainy days are not like Florida or Hawaii's rainy days. When it rains, it's cold. And you feel as though you may never be warm again.

But then after those nineteen days of rain, we got even more rain, and guess what happened?

The creek flooded.

We went all winter without the creek flooding, all winter without grass underwater. And then two weeks before summer, this happens.

All that grass? Not usually underwater.

 

I know, honey. I won't blame you if you don't want to live here when you grow up. I'll miss you, but I won't blame you.

The creek flooding isn't any big tragedy or anything--there were no crops washed away, or endangered turtles habitating down there, and after listening to Jason read a chapter tonight in one of the Little House on the Prairie books about the plague of grasshoppers coming from the sky and everything shriveling up and drying out, I have to admit that I wouldn't exactly want to live in that--but it's just, like, really? REALLY? This is what we get two weeks before summer? Ridiculous. Last year we were bbq'ing and playing in the creek to cool off from the 90 degree weather; this year I'm feeling thankful that I got the slightest of sunburns on Saturday.

My unfortunate lot in life is that I have always lived in the PacNW, and I always will, and yet I do not like/enjoy/cherish the rain. Ever. The whole dancing in the rain and splashing romantically in puddles is foreign to me because I will never prefer rain over non-rain. I can pragmatically appreciate the effects of rain--it's very green here, we don't have to water our lawns too often, my skin does not painfully dry out, we probably won't get grasshoppers raining from the sky, just metaphorical cats and dogs--but the rain isn't something I'm middle-of-the-road about.

I try not to spend too much energy hating the rain...except when I'm pregnant and feel like I deserve better. I'm growing a baby, for Pete's sake. Is it too much to ask for weather that doesn't depress me?

The answer is, yes. Yes, it is too much to ask for.

I'll tell you who does love the rain, though.

If only I could kiss a frog and the sun would come out. That would be worth puckering up for.

Sunshine

Those who have endured six months of rain know that a day of sunshine is no small thing.

December Views {29th}

Quite surprisingly, we got snow today.

Well, maybe people who follow the weather report a little more closely than I do were expecting it, but I was surprised to look out the window to see snowflakes instead of raindrops.

Huge fluffy perfect-for-building-snowmen flakes fell from the mid-afternoon sky, and immediately following Jason exclaiming, "It's snowing!" I heard the girls run to get their coats and boots. They were immensely tickled at the unexpected magic, especially since our house is now devoid of most holiday decorations--including out tree--and our days are considerably more regular.

After last year's immense snowfall, this year's weather has been a bit of a disappointment to them. Sydney had come to believe that every Christmas is a white Christmas, and every winter is a snowy winter. She learned the bitter truth this year: we might get snow, but we rarely have a white Christmas.

And we rarely have snow that sticks around for very long.

Even today's snowfall is supposed to be gone by tomorrow morning, washed away in unsympathetic and dream-destroying rain.

Still, a short-lived romp in the snow is better than nothing.

I'm sure those who were caught in the afternoon commute were less than tickled with the snow that snarled the roadways (I-5 was stalled from downtown Portland to Woodburn...gah! and even now I hear someone spinning their tires trying to get up the hill near our house), but we rather enjoyed it here at home.

A few more of my snowday pictures are over at Flickr.

More December Views pictures here.

December Views {7/8/9/10}

Since I can hardly stand to be outside in this weather, I sent Jason outside to document the Arctic tundra that surrounds us.

Oh, all right. So it's not Arctic, exactly. But it's close. If only we had polar bears. Nice ones. Not the kinds that would eat you up.

Here's the creek that flows through our backyard. The sheet of ice covering the creek is actually not strong enough for us to walk on, but it's still pretty amazing that it froze over at all. As a by-the-way...do you see that cliff on the far side of the picture? We live about 100 feet up from it.

The girls think the ice is quite the novelty. I'm just happy that they can stand to be out in the cold for more than five minutes. Last year, we got a super deal on their winter coats that still fit them this year (and will probably still fit them even next year). This year, we got a super deal on their winter pants that keep their legs toasty warm.

I'm all about toasty warm clothes.

I'm also, as you can see, all about making my girls look like big pink marshmallows. That's the consequence of having a girly-girl mom: very few gender neutral clothes for us.

Julianne wasn't absolutely sure about walking on the ice. She hung out on the Tom Sawyer raft for awhile, until she finally worked up the courage to take a step out. Even now I'm not sure that she thinks walking on ice is a good idea...and I'm okay with that.

Aside from ice...

...Mt. Hood from my car window, as I was driving back from school this week.

...Lemon rosemary shortbread cookies that I made for my Irish lit students. On our last day of class I brought yummy treats and gave them all a copy of Angela's Ashes. It really was a dream come true to teach this class. The school will soon be hiring a full-time faculty member to take over the lit courses from the adjuncts, so I doubt I'll get to teach another lit class for a long time, but that's okay. I'm just so thankful I had the opportunity for this semester.

Also? Those cookies were darn tasty.

Probably the biggest news of the week, however, is this:

Miss Sydneykins got her ears pierced.

She and I were both quite nervous about it, but neither one of us cried too many tears. Yes, indeed, she's a big girl now.

Climbing Mt. St. Helens

Jason--along with my parents and my brother--are climbing Mt. St. Helens today. They have a GPS tracking unit with them, so I'm tracking their progress.

Check it out! (Sorry, now I broke the location-specific link because the borrowed GPS unit was returned to its owner.)

If you click on the "terrain" button you can see the lava flows and the crater of the volcano.

(That's right, for you non-locals, Mt. St. Helens is a volcano. Fortunately, it hasn't been active erupted in the past couple years.)

I wish I was with them!

Week 266: Too hot to blog

My town set an all-time record for hot temperatures today. I wandered over to my parents' house to check out their faithful frog thermometer (they've had it my entire life, and it's still accurate). This is how hot it was at 7:30 pm tonight:

 

It got up to 107 degrees today. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN. (That would be 42 degrees Celsius for my Canadian friends, which doesn't really sound that hot but certainly must be.) One hundred and seven...that's just crazy hot. We're going on day three of hundred-plus temperatures, although my household is surviving it fairly comfortably because of our blessed AC. I can't tell you how thankful I am for the AC that's been blasting all day and night. Yes, all night. Last night it didn't get any cooler than 70 degrees outside, which is too warm for us to sleep comfortably. I'm spoiled and I know it.

Considering that probably 80% of the PacNW population doesn't have AC, it's brutally hot for almost everyone. We visited Jason's grandma in Eugene yesterday, and it was over 80 in her house. Thankfully, she has an AC unit in her bedroom, so she's safe from overheating.

On the upside, I suppose we're acclimating a little bit to what the weather will be like when we're in Florida next week. Florida in August sounds so not fun, but turns out, the end of July in Oregon-- er...Washington--isn't any fun either. I guess we're even.

I feel like I have lots to write about, but after spending the day at the creek--the only outdoor activity that's safe and fun--I'm just plum tuckered out.

It won't be too late to post summer pictures in September, will it? I hope not.

Week 250: Ah, dear Oregon. I knew thee well.

On this day, the 250th-week anniversary of being a parent, I, Stephanie of Creature Bug, do not-so-solemnly announce that life in Oregon as I know it is officially done.

Although we still have stuff in an apartment in Salem--Jason still lives there during the week--my life now  happens here on the Family Farm, in my grandparents' house that my grandma no longer lives in since she lives next door with my parents now.

My clothes are here. The pantry is stocked. The fridge is full. All our mail has a Washington address. I have a phone number that begins with a new area code. I still teach in Salem, and still have my Oregon driver's license, but not for much longer.

It's true that I grew up here on this land, living here until I was 18 years old. But I lived in Salem for 15 years--fifteen adult years, which is considerably different than 18 childhood years. I went to college there, got a teaching job there, attended church there. I had my babies in the Salem hospital, walked along the sidewalks with my kids in a stroller. I read the newspaper almost daily, and visited the library weekly. I drank more cups of Dutch Brothers coffee than I can count. I've memorized the aisles of the grocery store, the nearest Walmart, and Costco.

I know the names of all the high schools, know the nearest parks, know the fastest way to get somewhere in town. I can tell you which direction the one-way streets run, and what roads get traffic at 5 o'clock.

 

Since as an Oregonian I have experienced college, church, graduate school, parenting groups, and employment opportunities, naturally almost all my friends live in Oregon. Although the distance of 70-miles (or more) will curtail spontaneous get-togethers, they'll still have reasons to drive to Portland (if only to visit Powell's), and driving to Portland is a mere 20 minutes for me. We won't be neighbors anymore, but hopefully we won't be strangers either.

Life on this side of the Columbia River feels...different. A lot is the same (same weather, same tv stations, same radio stations, same breakfast every morning), but there are still things to get used to. Sales tax, pumping my own gas, learning the fastest way to get somewhere, figuring out where the pretzels are at the grocery store, remembering I don't have the dial the area code before the phone number like you have to do in Salem: small changes that remind me I'm the new kid in town.

The old way of life was rich with blessings, but the new way will be amazing too. Already the blessings of living on the Family Farm are apparent. Sydney can play outside by herself. Jules can walk to Grandma and Grandpa's house and ask for candy (which she does, being ever the precocious one). There are cousins around to play with, old high school friends to connect with, a huge extended family to depend on.

Yesterday there was a deer in the front yard. Today I noticed the trees in the orchard are starting to blossom. And tonight when I walked outside I could see the stars that were never visible from our home in the city.

Six months of living everywhere and nowhere has made me grateful to finally be somewhere permanently. A year ago I was heartbroken about leaving Salem, but now? Now I'm ready. It's time to put down new roots right next to those old roots that I left behind years ago. There's no fanfare; I'm just declaring today the day to make the change.

And so I say, Goodbye Salem, Oregon--you were a town I grew to love more than I thought possible.

And now, Hello, Southwest Washington. Life is going to be good here.