go west!

Dark and silent late last night

I think I might have heard the highway call.

Geese in flight and dogs that bite.

And signs that might be omens say I'm going, I'm going...

Gone to Carolina in my mind.

I heard the highway call. I drove away on a hot Saturday afternoon honking and waving to my dear husband David and brown dog, Calley. As I turned onto Moccasin Hill, I caught a glimpse of them in my rearview mirror waving back. I didn't take any photos to commemorate the send off, they would have been blurry. Though I have traveled alone many times, the trips usually begin with a heroic send off at the airport surrounded by others doing the same thing. But driving away, that felt really different.

Quick explanation. I am driving Eliza's car to Leadville, Colorado where she is already working for the High Mountain Institute (HMI) and didn't have time to drive her car out there. I have combined this trip with a visit to my brother and his family in Boulder and time with my sister who is flying in from Oregon. We will then drive to Taos for a writing retreat and join my friend Laura there. Finally, having had my fun, I will deliver the green Subaru Embrezza loaded with Eliza's winter clothing, warm boots and a bicycle to Leadville. Then I'll give her a hug, get on a plane and fly east.

As I described this trip to friends at home, many wished they could have come with me but other things got in the way. There is a deep mythology in America about the open road. No agenda. No responsibility. Freedom. Pioneer spirit. I would have loved to have company but have no trouble doing it alone, either. It feels like a rite of passage. Something you have to have done. I have flown across this great country countless times. My sister moved to California in 1966 and I have been traveling west to see her ever since then. But never in a car.

So how is it going you ask. Fine. Faster than I thought it would. This is not like driving on Rt. 128 where I feel I take my life into my hands every time I pull on to it. The gentle curve of that road, which was coined the "emerald necklace around Boston" when created makes it a surprisingly dangerous road. The only real car accident I have ever been in was on that road. In Wakefield. Watch out for that stretch. No, we're talking about long, straight roads through Indiana and Iowa. Corn and Soybeans edge this truly emerald highway; Rt. 80.

I thought I'd take detours on back roads but I have this urge to keep going, knowing there will be plenty of adventure when I get to my destination. I feel the mountains calling! I like Rt. 80 and its rest stops and after a break, can't wait to get back in the car to listen to more Alice Munro short stories. Cruise control is great too. Set it at 70 (that is the speed limit) and sit back in living room comfort.

This is day three and I'm about to enter Nebraska. Never been there. Anyone know the name of the capitol city?

wildlife

Sunday and Calley look for eagles on Squam Lake.

Sure enough we found a bald eagle and her two chicks.

weeding the strawberries

Lindentree CSA members doing their four hours of hard labor.

thursday is pick up day at the CSA

Sorry to have been away from the blog for so long. It has just been way too hot and humid here for inspiration and reflection! Also I have been recreating, as in participating in recreational activities. Carrie has been home for a short while with friends galore stopping by. Swims in Walden Pond provided relief from the heat. Meanwhile I have to check the schedule daily to see where in the French, Swiss or Italian Alps Eliza is at any moment. She comes back from her job of leading the Tour de Mont Blanc trip next week and then is directly off to Colorado for her fall job. David and I have spent weekends in some really special places in New Hampshire and Maine this summer and tomorrow we hop on the ferry to Martha's Vineyard.

Meanwhile farms and gardens are producing all over town. I'll stick to two. Above are some of the veggies I picked up at the Lindentree CSA last week. Our own front yard garden is full of zinnias, cucumbers, arugula and cherry tomatos. I've made cucumber salad, beets with goat cheese and walnuts and plain old mixed greens in a bowl with a garlicy vinagrette. It's pretty easy to "eat local" at this time of year. I enter the store only to buy exotic fruits; lemons, limes and avocado. Blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, watermelon steal my heart. How delicious is summer fruit?

But picking it in this heat has been almost unbearable. I actually had to give up our share of blueberries last week as the temperature rose to 100 degrees in the field. Even with a hat on, I couldn't stand the intense heat beating down on my head and radiating up from the parched ground. Most of the produce is already picked for us but the flowers and fruit we pick ourselves.

Which makes me think of the people who harvest our food for a living. The farm workers who pick produce not for a few fun hours on the farm but eight hours and longer every day. This work involves bending low in the hot sun. The water truck drives by every few hours if they are lucky enough to have a break. I really think differently about the glorious displays at the farm stand and at Whole Foods. So much of our food is picked by people we rarely see or think about.

Being a member of a CSA and putting in my short four hours a summer of work weeding or picking is a reminder of where my food comes from and most importantly how lucky we are to have people pick it for us. Farm life is romanticized but a lot of it is pure drudgery. At Nine Acre Corner in Concord I see old pick up trucks pulled by the side of the road and a field full of dark skinned men bent over picking. They are doing back breaking work in the hot sun. Perhaps they are glad for the work. I'm sure glad they do it.

Eating with gratitude makes the strawberry taste that much sweeter.

July 8, 1916

Walking with my father through my mother's garden in a barn foundation overlooking Lake Memphremagog where she spent summers as a child in Canada. Surely her soul resides here as well as in our hearts.

Mom and Carrie face to face. Peter looking on.

Peter with Mom and Dad.

As if I needed reminding, the day lillies in my garden this morning are over the top with orange blossoms. It is their job every year to announce the birthday of a woman who knew her plants and brought the best I've ever seen from the soil.

My siblings are becoming grandparents as a new generation of children join our family. Jude, Auggie, Margaret, Mason and Alden are the great grandchildren she will never know.

I recall the arrival of her grandchildren. Never at a loss for a creative project, Mom went right to work when Gretchen was born. Every evening as Dad smoked his pipe and read the paper and I was upstairs doing homework, Mom did careful stitching to make the bodice of a smocked dress to send out to California. Do children wear those anymore? I know Gretchen wore the ones Mom made for her, and I am sure there are photos to prove it.

She knit sweaters. One for each grandchild. I'm not sure they were actually worn much due to the itch factor of wool but they were beautiful. She gave my children baby blankets made from the left over wool from all the sweaters. Many a night, I wrapped one of my girls in her "Granny blanket" and rocked her in the old chair when something had woken her in the night. Mom used to rock me, too. In the same chair.

Then came the painted furniture. She painted toy chests and children's chairs with flowers and personalized them with the name of each recipient. Each Christmas, I tried to have something home made for my kids when they were young in honor of my own mother's creative spirit.

May the memory of Granny live on in the minds and hearts of her grandchildren; Gretchen, Peter, Ruston, Jessie, Sarah, Martha, Sylvia, Carrie and Eliza. And may the stories live on for the next generation to hear.

Martha Lamb McLean; creative spirit, loving grandmother. She wasn't sentimental and had strong opinions. She had a big heart and a deep love for her family. May she be remembered.

Family portrait 101

start with one niece and grandnephew

add another niece and grandnephew

have them call your sister in law who is looking for your grandniece

get out the bubbles so everyone will stay put

and click!

Thanks to Roz, Sarah and Sylvia for a great visit on Macmahan Island.

one month's progress

Someone has to be sure the eggplants are level!

June 1, 2010

July 1, 2010

lettuce, arugula, basil, cucumbers in far bed

every garden needs on architect

More than just leaves! These babies bear fruit! yeah!!