Monthly Archives: July 2012

We are away for a week, with a pile a family (including my little brother and his girl whom he proposed to LAST NIGHT!!!) at a cluster of lakeside cabins. It’s a slow-going, simple kind of place that is completely about people and community. A place where I really notice everything. Every sound is acute, every smell vibrant, every sight brilliant. My favorite kind of getaway. I wrote about the history and connection of this lakeside getaway in my weekly column. Click to read mama digs: a good pace. Last night I walked with my daughters and my cousin’s daughters, from one cabin to another. The girls stopped at the rustically covered ping pong table at the center of camp to watch and listen to the teenagers. They were talking about genetic predisposition to cancer and lupus, a riveting topic for four thigh-high girls. The conversation shifted when the audience was realized and the teens asked the kids to join in and play, asked them questions and told stories about growing up here. Calliope’s family has operated camp forever and she said it’s pretty much the best place to grow up on the planet. The others nodded. Ruby, to a kid on a bike wearing shorts and a lifejacket: Hi.Kid: Hi.Ruby: Hi.Kid: Hi.Ruby: You live in Montana?Kid: Yes. Do you live in Montana?Ruby: Yes.Kid: Bye.Ruby: Bye. Margot lives in Montana too. Margot, to her cousin: Do you want to play family with me?Charlotte: Yes.Margot: Do you know how?Charlotte: Yes, it’s like when like you are the baby and I am the mom and we play.Margot: Yes. How about I am the mama.Charlotte: OK. Then I get to be the puppy. Ruby, Margot and Charlotte walked to the “store” to buy some worms for fishing. The camp owners line dry all the linens We spent nearly an hour trying to blow up a baby pool my mom brought so the kids could take baths (they are a bit big for the cooler they bathed in last summer!). Thing is, my mom mistakenly purchased an infant pool that holds like two gallons of water and, for some reason, wouldn’t blow up despite a hilarious and dedicated effort by my mom and her brother. I have it all on video, most of it shakey from laughter (oh all those cooks in the kitchen making suggestions about how to blow, where to blow and oh all the jokes about being “hard to blow”). My mom shut her cabin door and the hook fell into the eye, locking her out. The two of us had to unpin the door hinges and wedge the screen door out of the frame with a slotted spoon. There were several campers documenting and directing the crazy thing. I mean, for real, HOW can that happen? Usually the hook dangles down. It certainly cannot stay upright without support. It is a great mystery discussed by many campers. And? It happened a second time the next day. The latch is now duck taped flat. Ghost? Hmm. or maybe it was one of the magical bunnies hopping all around the cabins Ruby woke early this morning and Margot and I were still tired. I carried her seven feet to my parent’s cabin where I found my mom and uncle preparing to go fishing. I suited Ruby up and crawled back in my bed. I couldn’t fall back to sleep but I freaking relished that extended stay in bed. Hot coffee, Margot’s heavy breaths, knowing my girl was out on a lake catching perch with her grandma and great uncle. Trail runs with my aunt, long hugs with my second cousins. Jumping into the lake holding my dad’s hand, listening to my mom talk about her mom. Living in the woods by a lake with a smiling village. I feel so lucky. Evening community campfire; Margot and Ruby watch their cousin dance to a friend’s piano music On the first night, I walked back to our cabin from the community campfire and Ruby sleepily whispered, “Look mama. Look at the beautiful ocean. It’s all puffed up. Isn’t that awesome?” Sure enough, the lake looked swollen, like you could see the earth’s curve and intention in the belly of water. Like, life starts and ends in that puffed up belly. It is awesome. OK, off to kayak with my dad. More from here next Monday. Read more on from the lake…

We are finishing up details around our home. The painting is done! Well, there is always something I want to paint (that bench that will be yellow, the cabinets that will be white, that minty frame around the mirror…). And the furniture is lazily meandering into their places. It’s slow-going because the call of the mountain creek trumps the call of the lined up piles of dressers and boxes in the garage. Right now we occupy the hot Montana summer space where activity orbits water. For, the water? The water stays cold. I love that it is always surprising, that thrilling chill. The initial prick on toes and up legs as we wade in. Or, as I prefer, jumping in on the count of three and losing my breath to the river. Our new home is only a few blocks from the creek which makes it easy to squeeze in a dip after breakfast, before studio work, after errands, before bed etc. We’ve grown into a new family tradition: Pajama Creek Walk. It’s a favorite around here. Some nights I moan a bit, not wanting to motivate out the door. But the magical, consistent, guaranteed part? It’s always the best choice we could make. Because the simple joy in tossing rocks, collecting rocks, skipping rocks, standing on rocks is one of the best ways to pass time that I know of; It’s universally appealing. cowgirl boots full of rocks And there is all that water which is mind-blowingly rad. It’s all so ancient, these mountains and streams. Centuries to smooth a rock, grow a tree. My ancestors may have stepped on the same patch of ground. I find I think about that a lot. My great grandma died in this water, drowned when she went to fetch a watermelon from the bank. My grandma was Ruby’s age. My grandpa worked the railroad up the gorge. My dad rode his motorcycle along Rattlesnake Creek, jumping in along the way (back when that sort of thing was allowed). My mom learned to fish here. Andy’s blood pulses through his veins in tandem with rapids, I’m sure. For me, I churn ideas in the mountains. I am energized. Up there I think, move and am reminded of the vastness and smallness of our wide world. In the river, I meditate. I settle into mindful observation, calm happiness and knowledge of my core and intention. It’s like the mountains are my future and the river is right now. my AWESOME bathing suit, courtesy of Popina Swimwear Read more on for the love of the river…