postcard from the road: moab

There is something about this redrock country.  Something that feels totally worn down to the simplicity of light, rock, wind and water.  It’s easy to find your center here.  It’s easy to lose it too.

Each day we adventure, we find new beauty, new awe, new spaces inside ourselves.  We sit in quiet wonder and in raucous movement.  We all stretch our bodies with eagerness.  Motion feels good. Sleep comes easy.

Again, this moment right now.  Perfect.

road trip

We’ve hatched some plans, we’re hitting the road. This one is all Andy (o.k, I added a few essentials to the list, like hand-sanitizer and lawnchairs) but he’s the dreamer and planner on this one.

After more than a year of sitting tight, focusing inward and devoting our time to healing, this feels good.  Healing is still forefront of course, but this is healing too.  Forward momentum, a bit of outward focus, nature exploration, and watching the world bloom in our girls eyes. I think it’s what we all need right now.

Not a day passes when we don’t realize how fortunate we are to be in this space now, beyond treatment and looking forward. To have all the love and support holding us tight.

Not one of us knows what the future holds.  The time is now.

So off we go….stay tuned we’ll try to send some love from the road.

Blessings.

the thing about hope

As you may have already surmised from my longer than usual silence here, Andy’s scans of mid-June did not go as we had hoped.  They showed a small tumor in his right lung and a small spot on his remaining kidney, in addition to the bladder tumor.  So, metastasis.  The word we had so wanted to avoid.  But there it is.

So we headed to Mayo and the doc there told us chemo…soon…to address the systemic cells.  And he gave us some hope with his positive attitude and his willingness to see us through this.  He told us we can “only know if we try” and that “we’ll swing for the grand slam” and we bottled that up to take home.  Then we headed north.

Six hours of driving brought us to the southern shores of our beloved Lake Superior, to a new-for-us-spot: Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.  We pulled into the small primitive campground on Saturday mid-morning with fingers crossed.  No reservations allowed.  It looked to be full, until right there in front of us was a very recently vacated amazing lakeside campsite.  Their fire was still burning.  It couldn’t have felt more perfect.  And so we stayed for three days.  Holding in our palms the gorgeous colors of the lake stones, listening to the loons, wandering the hiking trails, admiring blueberry, bunch berry, lady slipper, and june berry, crawling into the tent long before dark (the sun was still plenty high in the sky at 9 pm!), and rising early to do qigong on the beach.  We talked, we cried, we thought about cancer and we didn’t.  We laughed and grumped and did all the normal things we always do on these trips to the north.  We felt our energy revitalizing, we felt our feet back under us, hell, we got some mojo back.  We came home ready to do this thing.

And so we will.  On Monday Andy starts chemo.  He is positioned in so many ways to get what he needs from it and stay strong throughout.  

The lake and its forever skyline, the loons calling in pairs, the strength of storm tumbled rocks…it gave us what we needed.  It gave us more hope.  The intention of a positive outcome. That’s the thing about hope, it comes back around and says “trust” loud and clear.  And we are tuned in. 

Please join us there.

blessings

This weekend, amid coughs and stuffy noses, we noted that spring is arriving.  We happily filled seed trays with potting soil and the earliest spring crops, stopped to listen and play in the running snow melt and delighted in the return of the pussy willow catkins.  After subzero weather last week, it felt like a turning point.  In more ways than one…

Andy’s scans were clean and his visit at Mayo brought the best news we could hope for.  There were no recommendations for treatment at this point, only scans every 4 months to monitor and make sure the cancer has not returned or spread.  The stats are in his favor and he is getting stronger every day. The relief was huge, our hearts full of gratitude.

Still we left Rochester feeling somehow jubilant but also on the sharp edge of despair.  Unsettled. When we spoke about it later we realized that we had both noted the “cancer floor” waiting room full of people, most of whom, would certainly not walk out of there feeling a sense of relief.   And we were both remembering Ken, who we met in the “prep” room before the scans last week, who was our age with stage 4 lung and liver cancer, who had already undergone 4 rounds of chemo since November, who the doctors were telling, “it’s about quality of life now”.

I guess what I’m saying is that it’s hard to feel total elation, even when they tell you that your outlook is favorable, once you’ve joined the ranks of those with a cancer diagnosis.  Sadness for those who aren’t as fortunate as you weighs heavy.  Realization that even though the news was positive, you weren’t given a “clean bill of health”, they can’t tell you the cancer won’t return, and this path is still before you.

Celebration wasn’t on our minds.  Just boundless thanksgiving and a renewed sense of determination to make space for healing in every day.  To make each moment as full of what matters as possible.

Don’t get me wrong.  There were lots of smiles, sighs of releasing anxiety, hugging and laughing around here this weekend.  We aren’t spending much time contemplating possible not-so-positive outcomes.  It’s just that when the world of cancer comes knocking on your homestead door it opens a reality you never dreamed of (or at least tried not to).  And to be real, and present, and honest with it all, somehow helps.

So onward now.  Forward to days of lengthening sunlight, bursting buds and the song of the redwing blackbird.  We are full of spring’s renewal.

And we are pausing now and again and again to take note of each delight, each pleasure and each moment of sorrow.  If there are blessings here we will find them.

roadtrip: home

4333 miles and we are home. There were trying times (is it illegal to put your kids in the car topper for a few miles?) but mostly there was sun and shells and wind and waves and oh-so-much wildlife. 

We camped all but 6 of the 17 days we were gone and have still have the no-see-um and mosquito bite itch scabs to prove it!

Once we hit Florida our first stop was an overnight near Orlando to visit dear Aunt Jane and her sweet little cats (we skipped Disney, go figure).  Then on to Myakka State Park for a quick overnight and a climb in the tree top tower.  At this park we saw a Cara Cara and our first alligator!

After that we boarded the ferry to Cayo Costa State Park where we spent three days in relative wilderness with miles of beaches and few people around.   We saw dolphins (both on the ferry and right off the beach–Andy’s dolphin video from the ferry, below), we saw loads of little brown anoles (lizards), a Magnificent Frigate Bird (!) and lots of other awesome seabirds at this park.  We think this place was our favorite and well worth the extra work to backpack our stuff in.  We’d highly recommend it if you find yourself with time to camp in Florida!

After Cayo Costa we headed to Collier Seminole State Park right on the edge of the everglades.  From here we were able to do a few things around Naples where I grew up visiting my grandma.  (More on that later).

One evening, on a tip from the ranger, we hiked out to an observation tower and watched thousands of birds come in to roost for the night, just as the sun was going down.  It was pretty amazing.

From Collier Seminole it was on to the Florida Keys where we set up camp at Bahia Honda State Park.   This park had a lot to offer like bayside campsites, turquoise blue, 78 degree waters to swim in, hammerhead shark sightings (!), and loads of international tourists to meet and chat with (I’m pretty sure most of the conversation on the beach was in German!).  It also (like all of the Keys) has Hwy 1 running right through the middle of it with loads of traffic- which took some getting used to.

Mae became a master thing-finder at this park.  From lost tent states (we accumulated at least 4 new ones) to tiny hermit crabs to large iguanas!

One day, to get away from the traffic, we rented a canoe and paddled one of the bays keeping close to the mangroves in order to see wildlife.  We saw nurse sharks (below), sting rays, horseshoe crabs, barracuda and the (tiny) endangered key deer!

Of course we had to go all the way to the very bottom (Key West) to eat ice cream and wave at Cuba.

From that furthest point south we began our journey back northward.  Still in search of the one Florida critter that had eluded us.  The manatee.  On a tip from another traveler we headed to Wakulla Springs State Park, and sure enough, the huge spring there was swimming with them (there were snoozing and a little camera shy)! 

Then it was 4 days of driving with a few quick stops on the way (thank you Atlanta family!) and we were home.

And today on our first morning home, we woke to snow.  Yes, glorious snow.  The girls couldn’t have been happier. 

We feel so lucky to have had the time to take this trip, to be able to experience a whole new ecosystem, to visit places that are new and strange to us.  

And we feel oh-so-lucky to back back in this home-sweet-home.

moms and kids

Gorgeous weather.  A quiet little state park.  My good friend and theirs.  Water, fire, hiking, drawing, eating, laughing…

I wrote in my journal while they drew in theirs:
“At the lookout on switchback trail.  Amazing views of the valley below, just beginning to pop orange and red and gold.
Last night barred owl called as we crawled into our tents.  Today at lunch we ducked out heads as walnuts dropped from the tall, tall tree in camp.
Tree frogs and toads called until morning.  Just this last time.
We took the short trail to the big deep spring.  Huge water bubbling out of the rocks.  Cold.
Deep green watercress growing all around.”

Feeling so lucky to have this in my life.  Wishing you love and a bit of lovely nature in yours as well.

just this

Back last night from a little spot up north we have come to love.  Fall was in the air, rice was ripe and ready for harvest, and we remembered, once again, why getting away and sleeping in the night air with the loons calling all around is good.

Hope your weekend brought peace too.

going there

Sometimes you are packing up (at 11pm on a Friday night) for that weekend trip you planned with friends a month ago and you are thinking to yourself “why did I say we’d do this?”.  You were noticing that the beans are overflowing in the garden and need a good bath in the canner, that the lawn is ankle deep, and that the house looks a little like no one put any of their stuff away this week.  You are pretty darn sure that you would be happier staying home and getting stuff done.  You feel a little crabby.

But then you go.  And you remember again that there is just this. one. life.  Just these moments flowing on as your children grow and grow and grow.  That getting stuff done isn’t the only way to feel satisfied.  And you feel peace as your child lays next to you in the no-rain-fly tent and points out the first star of the evening coming out in that wisconsin river sky.

“Carry this” you tell yourself.

forging ahead

Last year when we took this trip, she was only just three.   She made it a good part of the way herself, but in the end needed a lift for her tired legs.  This year, she is only just four, and completely up for the adventure. 

So proud to show us all her discoveries along the way.  So happy to be the “big girl”,  alone with mama and papa as her sister disappeared ahead on the trail with friends.  It’s times like this when it comes home that your baby is now a hiker, and your first-born has entered the realm of “see you later mama”.  There are moments when we still wish to linger just a bit longer in the world of tiny ones.  Backpack carriers and afternoon naps in the tent.  But mostly we are excited for this new world of capable little girls.  Girls who are ready to hike some distance, girls who are eager to explore on their own, girls who are going to show us the way.

And yes, those are wool hats and sweaters.  Good thing marshmallows by the fire still made it feel like July!

Happy Monday all!

at summer’s end

We’re back after an amazing week.  Loads of laundry done, sleeping bags on the line, tent airing.  Chickens hugged, raspberries picked, tomatoes holding off (thank-you!).  It’s good to be home, but that was pretty sweet!  We spent the first two nights at the recommendation of a friend, here.  Quiet, rustic campground on a most gorgeous little lake.  We paddled within 10 feet of a Loon! 

Next on to the Sylvania Wilderness Area for a bit more adventure.  We really wanted to trek a bit deeper into the wilderness with the girls but weren’t sure we were up for the portages of a Boundary Water’s trip (afterall Iris’ children (all thee off them!) still go everywhere with us!).  So, Sylvania was perfect.  A 2 1/2 hour paddle to our campsite with just a very short portage.  We stayed on Mountain Lake which was about as clear and pristine as you can imagine.  Off we go…two adults, two children, 4 dolls (Mae had to have her rang-a-tang), one dog and a mound of gear.  

 

The portage.

 

The hemlock forest campsite.

 

The mossy fairy garden.  Seriously, you wouldn’t believe it!

 

 

The yellow birch fairy tree, on the two mile hike (with the doll, which she carried herself)!

 

The sticky marshmallow-fairy-dust faces.

The very proud whittlin’ girl.

The fishergirl and her dad who has his hook caught on a log (he’d want you to know he did catch some 14″ Bass that evening!).

Beautiful weather, full moon nights, loads of time to play, think and explore.  It was good, so very good.