Urban Organica

on re-entry :: ice harvest, honey, swoonfest

 make your own name tags (sharpie pens on canvas + baby scrabbles)

ice candles light the way to the craft fair.  there's no shortage of magic, here

the ice house...harvested from the lake in winter.  delivered daily to your cottage.

"oh, what's that?" they exclaimed! a refrigerator cabinet.  yes!  with no electricity.  just ice! "ooh.  really?"

In 2005 my darling, funny & very wise friend John Chen gave me some sage advice on re-entry.  He's someone I consider a visionary & business mentor, so I listened closely as he explained that the main reason most "transformational experiences" do not sustain themselves back in the real world is a failed "re-entry."  People need to plan for what happens when we return to our communities as new beings, & realize that they weren't there to see what happened.

At the time I was feeling grounded, supported & clear from nine days with my Jamily at the Institute of Noetic Sciences in California.  And, about to return to D & our then 3 year-old in New Hampshire, whom I had left feeling anxious & more than a little heart-sick.  Now I was bursting at the seams with ideas about giving circles, inspired philanthropy & new models of social entrepreneurism.  I easily could have blow them out of the water, but instead I took John's advice & planned for a smooth re-entry.

As female, it's hard for me to be interrupted by males that I love.  So instead I filled my notebook with photos from the week & said nothing.  Yes, nothing.  When they picked me up from the airport I listened to their adventures, how they had bonded & the tiny challenges they dealt with alone on the island for so long.  When they asked questions, I just said, "It's all here in my notes."  And it was.  

By putting my own transformation aside I was able to take in theirs, receiving gifts I might have missed otherwise.  My son was taller, able to stand up to his neck in the lake & leaned into his father with a whole new confidence.  My husband was taller, having proved to himself that he was entirely self-sufficient as a parent, able to deliver tenderness, discipline & security without my wifely peanut gallery.  

By holding my experience sacred & not trying to have anyone else get it, I got to keep it.  

***

So this year, D & the 3 boys were in CA & I was in NH for the Squam Art Workshops.  3 weeks on, & my family still hasn't seen my photos of Squam Lake.  They have a couple of paintings up & some goodies I brought home from Reform School, owned by my roommates Billie & Tootie.  What they did see is my name tag up there, & 3 short videos over the course of the week.  

 

#1 :: What, to my mind, is what kids most want to know about Squam Lake but never ever heard of.  The Uber-Crazy team effort that is ice-harvesting.

Honey Harvest from Smarts & Crafts on Vimeo.

 #2  A short on how Derek (+ Laura, though you never see her) harvests their honey.  This is relevant because they have a shop in the City which is just our kind of shop, so the kids will actually meet them someday.  And in our family we maintain that honey is always, at all times totally relevant.  

 #3 The swoonfest SAW slideshow by my honorary roommate, Merrilee.  There's a goofy picture of me from a little antique stop & a shot of the paintings they now know.  But I didn't point it out.

I arrived at SAW at 2:30 am before it all began & was assured that no one else was there.  It was pitch black, the driver was lost & nervous, & I had a sudden intense bear phobia.  I was being as loud as possible, yelling to the driver & slamming doors before I realized Merr, Eileen & Yvette were in my cabin. They were sleeping before I got there & needless to say, I was mortified that I had woken them, but they insist they were waiting for me.  Well, I'll never know, but I do love those gracious ladies.  I loved all of it. 

 

food styling at squam art workshops

 

Nina, Bea of La Tartine Gourmande + Christine of Lavender & Limes

    
 
  

Thea knew what to ask, upping the photography lessons to the next level.  If you want a happy cry for a minute, check out her family portraits, here.

       
 
   

Mentor session with Liz, Kirsten, Bea + Thea

 
 

Brittany of Whatever & Stuff having a personal playdate with the dough & apples.  5 kids, this one has, including 20 month-old twins.  She always makes it to Squam to make sure she has something to give back.

 
   
 

Somehow Elizabeth has taken my love affair with woods + water & sent it completely over the top by adding an apron party with cameras, cooking, pregnant bellies & over-full mamas.  With a brilliant food stylist (with more than a touch of star quality) showing us exactly how she makes her perfect pictures & a brilliant photographer shadowing her every move, asking her just the questions I didn't know to ask.  After making us cry with her beautiful story about why she started creating, of course.   Because women like to cry together & we also like watching French women talk about food & style while we cook.  At least, this group did.  My roomie Eileen & I got to whip up these savory tarts & then bring home sweets to our cottage.  That's when I realized I was actually at camp.  At Camp!!.

lighthouse beach clamming

       

Every year we take one day at the beach by Granny's & do a little clamming.  It always surprises me, what with the kids' "distinguishing palates," as they say in GastroKids, that they are willing to eat these funny animals with long-necks that squirt out sea water.  There was a beautiful couple on the rocks, mid-life & in love, who saw us racing against the digging shell-fish in the sand.  It's always disappointing to accidentally crack the shells with our spoons, so they shared with us the correct way to do it:

*Dig in the water.  Watch for bubbles, then just shuffle your spoon back & forth above that spot.  The water will pull away the hard sand fast, & then you can just reach down & grab the clam.

*Put them into a bag with holes.   We already like to use mesh produce nets that come with potatoes & limes for finding sea shells.  Those are perfect, & they're free.  Hang them in the sea for three days & the clams will clean themselves out.  

*I happen to think that is all just so clever.

Thanks!

       

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Squam Rock Milestones

 

I think D & I each climbed Squam Rock for the first time when we were about 20.  A landmark in the ancient village of his sweet granny & the ancestral hometown of his great-great-great-great grandfather, it's a landmark in the lives of all the locals who grow up here.  They scale it at different ages, under different circumstances, but always before a dip in the Atlantic.  I have fond memories of our best friend clinging to the rock at 30 years old, & about 14 feet up, while his wife mouthed to me, "I'm going to kill your husband."

He made it down, eventually, & we all cheered.  The rock itself is about 40 feet high, & those first 20 are nothing but steep granite without any clear toeholds.  I'm not a good climber, but I've done some hairy advanced climbs because my older brother used to drive me to gorgeous spots & hand me a helmet, ropes, caribeaners, & eventually crazy-looking contraptions known as zippers.  They were all wires & gears, 5 inches big, but somehow made to hold us up.  I didn't know any better & followed him up.  I only learned one climbing skill that I can remember - if you have a toehold, then the climbing is all in your legs, not your arms.  You step on it, bend your knees, & leverage yourself up to the next toehold, using your hands to study the rock.

    

So when our 4 & 8 year-olds said they wanted to try, I figured, okay, I'll just sit here & they can throw themselves against the wall for a bit.  And for about 10 minutes they did.  Then Lake began to figure it out.  D went into papa-bear mode to catch him & I quickly jumped up to bring him down.  Not to be outdone by his baby brother...Well, let's just say that there's much to be said about a healthy dose of sibling rivalry...

       
 
      

women of 1620

   rigging: exquisite, black & tarred, massive

one way to get to shore...   

 crow's nest

  

a calendar? a compass? a game?  if you know, please share! 

  these woolen layers would put any waldorf teacher to shame. lined wool knickers over salmon jersey thigh-highs.  knit salmon knee highs with grey tie + poppy socks and handmade leather mary-janes to boot.  on a colonial man, to boot (again).  

     

   

 
 

I never knew the women of the Mayflower stayed on board, to care for the ill & dying while the men built their shelters.  That they had lost half of their loved ones on the way over.  I didn't realize how small the ship was - way too small for over 100 people, let alone men, women & children all buzzed or drunk because they had to drink beer for hydration.  I didn't know the ship & crew had planned to return home, but it was too cold for the colonists to survive, so they remained as home base.  I'm seeing for the first time that the Pilgrims were people suffering from shock.

I'm reminded of the triumph it is that we continue to build our lives when we each have felt the texture of trauma. That we continue to accept, long for & melt into our loved ones when we have all experienced great loss.  Or if we haven't yet, we've heard the crack in our mother's voice or seen the vacuous glance of our grandfather as he got up from his chair.  They've been there.  And yet we continue to be hopeful & hope-filled.  And life comes through.

I'm also reminded of the reality of sequencing.  History has been handed to me in a linear, masculine sequence.  Men built things, & the landmarks of their lives continued to be built upon by the decades of those that followed them.  We don't know what we build here, ultimately.  We just build, take in the contributions of others & hopefully give everything we possibly can.  

As women, our lives move in a spiral sequence.  Each phase of our lives is a rounded movement, touching on what's happened, what's coming & what's always been there.  Or maybe it looks like sequencing work or children or marriage while spinning the plates of everything else we are accountable for, everything we are up to & everything life throws in.  And here now I am spinning memories for my children & I find signs of these women - baskets, bedding, clothing, food - & I feel like I can hear crying, see them smiling.  Feel their bravery.  Some kind of weird hug across time & space.  (Or maybe I'm just picturing Laura Linney in John Adams?)

I wonder how the women of the Mayflower felt about the Indigenous women they found here, with their established home lives, surrounded by their children, men & sisters, capable & clear on their roles in their communities.  Did they wish to learn from them, join them, know them & love them as women innately do?  Did they feel thwarted in those longings by their community culture, their own beliefs, their grief or the locals themselves?  Or were some meaningful relationships established - if only meaningful to themselves?  What futures might have been possible if those heart strings had been able to become the foundational threads of this country?  If only I had been handed that history.  The dance of women. 

jellies, hermits

who needs toys? 

Dear loved ones.  Even if I don't get all our close-ups off to you all, I do okay getting the pictures downloaded here, & using the time it takes between each shot to review my calendar & make mind maps of things the kids are wanting to pursue.  But by the time all that gets done, usually one of them wakes up & here's 4 year-old Lake, on my lap, freezing cold.  I grabbed a towel from the line (I set up a desk out here in the woods this morning. Moved inside when the red squirrels began yelling at me en masse from a ballsy 2 feet away. "Aaah!"  Then came back out again when they left.)  The towel was wet.  Sorry, lovey.  So now we're inside, getting sweatpants & sweatshirts.  Now we're out & his feet are cold, so it's off to search for some slippers.  And now my brain is fried.  Not mention he is literally tapping on each finger as I write, which is sweet & funny & neat & makes for a heavy typing experience & more typos than my usual slew.  

So I apologize for any lack of elegance here.  I mean eloquence.  If I start apologizing for lack of elegance than I might as well forget it.  That's not something I offer.  But a bit of clear writing is only polite.  He just typed that sentence for me.  I was going to say that in a another way.  But you've happened upon a work morning with my boy.  

I loved, loved Cape Cod.  I would like to call it home.  Finally my freshwater family joined me where I feel the happiest, by the sea.  They discovered for the first time hermit crabs, jellyfish.  They collected rocks for my color-study collection & loaded them up in their shoes.  We headed out one morning to celebrate our 10 year anniversary, I mentioned that already.  What I didn't say was that we had no idea where we were going, had no reservations or ideas other than the swan boats in Boston.  Hotels in Boston were over $350 a night, not a big deal to some (& we enjoy a beautiful room as much as anyone), but our family priority is not fancy beds.  "What about Cape Cod?" D kept saying.   "Sure, I don't know anything about it."  

We used a little bit of intentional creating (email me if you want to know) & ended up with a house on the beach that usually rents for $3,000 a week for less than a third of what a hotel would cost.  I mention all this because people think it costs thousands of dollars for something like this & that's just not true.   It just takes wallops of gratitude, being in communication & being willing to be unreasonable; to not let our "reasons" determine our life.  This is something D & I agree on.

An unreasonable life is a life worth having.  The problems don't go away, they often get bigger, but they are worthwhile problems!  This is truly an adult extension of the unschooling/homeschooling philosophy of following one's interests.  My darling friend Patricia at Wonderfarm has a great explanation of how this works, here.  Her oldest child is heading off to NYU this weekend, after a homeschooling childhood, getting himself into a great private high school & now this new adventure.  I'm sure she would have followed him to Timbuktu if that were the game he was playing.

One last thing.  After these pictures were taken our oldest boy couldn't get himself off the beach.  He had a horrific fever & didn't feel ill, just totally wiped.  Then we discovered that the Cape is the Lime's Disease capital of the world.  Great.  We have a few friends with it & happen to know it's debilitating & difficult to manage.  Then I woke up with a tick crawling on my arm.  Oh, that was terrifying.  Not the tick, but wondering where it came from - one of the kids??  Each boy in turn got whatever that was - 3 days of being hot (104'), tired & weak.  I was terrified, but D just kept caring for them in his special way.  It went away, & we are all well, but not with out all of us cutting our hair for a full bug-search.  They love cutting my hair.   Me, too.  It was waist-length but a mess, since they are my official hair stylists.  But oh, it was hard to shear those curls, those baby wisps, those 70's wonder-wings.  My babies all look unusually preppy & I feel like I don't know them.  Their actions surprise me & they seem older, like miniature fraternity boys.  I'm excited to get to know them with a bit of beginner's mind. 

 love how iceplants hold light & water, their wispy strength

how does this man know i am taking his picture from so far away?  yoloboards are cool...

pockets that get filled + emptied again & again 

 jellyfish - they remind me of myself, small, transparent, wandering, in-the-moment in a way that seems aimless, happy

 balance

 balancing  

crab burying, rocks in shoes

  when did this baby become a young man?

  "there's! hey! there's something!  they're...crawling somethings in here!!"  hermits remind me of d.  intricate, internal, adorable, protective.  when they come out of their shells it's gratifying, flattering.

going forward...

tool, Patuxet Village, Plimouth Plantation

It's time to head forward to school.  Yes, school.  Sure we could go back, since we were there,  March-through-June.  Going "back to school" is exciting, an adventure into the daily faces of friends & beloved teachers, a chance to tackle new & interesting material.  That happens, & would be the case for us.  

As life-learners, we are looking at this Fall as a totally new experience, & it is.  We've never done something like this, walked into a class of kids a bit older, but still all about the same age with the same general developmental needs.  It's interesting!  And I think each Fall will be new, with new faces on the same people, new interests, new capacities.  Let us always go forward, why don't we.

Are we still homeschoolers?  Yeah, we are.  We call it the "long class" each morning.  We still belong to our local homeschooling bookclub, though it takes place during "school hours."  We will faithfully continue our "family curriculum" of cooking, marketing, growing, making, finding, drawing, tasting, discovering, dancing, assembling, dismantling, field-tripping, music-making & whatever else falls our way. 

And the Waldorf curriculum is one of those things.  I had always intended on homeschooling the boys when they were older.  When our oldest was one,  I found our local Waldorf school during a year-long Early Childhood Training at Rudolf Steiner College.  We fell in love with it & with the Early Childhood teacher.  Not so much with the kindergarten & now we have found a great 3rd-grade community.  The teacher also has three boys, is a farmer & a nurse, & she homebirthed & homeschooled, as well.  So we have much in common, & she's an elder I can learn from.  And learning is the commitment for us.  That, & surrounding our children with people who have diverse values - but values that support life.

 leather "lacrosse" for catching on sticks

There's been issues, nothing to go back about.  Like hyper-competitive parents.  Bullying.  Kids thinking they can only play with one age, or only one gender.  But these are not issues in the grand scheme of things.  I'm so grateful that every moment is a chance to move forward towards more connections.

 
 beautiful 

 "score!"

 

*****

Speaking of making connections...

This village, Patuxet, is one of the first Native villages where no one made it, due to diseases introduced by colonists.  I have so many questions I want to ask some of the folks I saw there, but they are  personal ones, & we are advised not to ask those.  But coming from a colonized culture myself, & a community of community servants, I'm so curious: "Do you consider yourself an activist?" "Does being here during the day shift how you live at home?"  "How do you feel about the colonists given that you work in partnership with the recreated colonial village?"

But we aren't to ask questions like, "What percentage Native are you?"  I understand that.  Although people ask me that kind of question at least once a month.

We can't go backwards, & a part of me wants to.  Everything there is a great reminder of the possibility- the past, present & future great possibility of letting our product - what we make - be the wellbeing of our communities.  Imagine.  More chances to forward connections.

(The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight has wonderful ideas on how to integrate the past & the present in a way that supports our global home & community.)

Moving on...

 

 longhouse

 dolls, canoe, games

 burned-out canoe, paddles, fish-drying station

 grinding maize

 an elder messing with the kids & showing off her bear

 inside a longhouse

women-made mats as walls

cod tian + swedish potato gratin

  

I think it all started with the latest issue of Jamie, where I realized for the umpteenth time that while his super-fast recipes, creamy matte card stock pages, electric fonts & sick track jackets make my heart all aflutter, his English recipes don't directly translate into my own world.  And for the first time that, well, maybe they could.  So I put on one of D's track jackets in my favorite color.  This one, actually:

 And how could I not get a little fired up?  (That's my love.  38-going-on-17.  And jacked about that farm plate.  See his little "Paid" tag?)  

Then I realized if I go the Euro-food route I'd need to throw in a little drink, so I began to rummage through D's choice GF ciders.  A life-long beer lover, he's on constant lookout for distinct, crisp & authentic drinks that happen to be gluten-free.  I drink sparkling water. Anywhoo.

That little blue casserole had also been distracting me though our last 5 meals, so I finally gave in asked myself what I thought it was wanting from me.  (What?  What is it wanting from me?) Something cute, rustic.  Something from A Trail of Crumbs, the lovely & glamourous I'm-not-ready-for-such-goodness-not-to-mention I'm-head-of-a-fashion-household-and-frequent-the-markets-of-Provence, but-we-all-know-I-don't-belong-here memoir that I am so loving right now.  So I played with her version of Jansson's Frestelse (Swedish Potato Temptation) to become a light & brothy bit of scalloped anchovies & potatoes.

We had a memorably moving visit to a recreation of Patuxet, the Native village that Plymouth was built on & home of the first Thanksgiving meal.  There was an outdoor kitchen area where this stew of cod, hominy, maize & beans was looking simple but smelling nourishing & fulfilling in a way that had us bolt for our dinners, but not before taking some notes on how to make it at home.

 
 So we ended up with a  cheesy veggie-rich cod tian/ fish pie/ seafood casserole/sumthin' sumthin,' plus a salty, al dente pillow of potatoes with extra cream for making the tian a bit of a chow-dah.  (Sorry I couldn't resist.  Out here you don't say chowder.  You say Chow-dah!)  Supper that sticks to your teeth while you laugh & your neighbor slurps her spoon as your kids place a pile of corn cob bits on your napkin while the sun sets.  My kind of dinner.  

These days, but also in general, I don't measure.  I don't record.  But this is what I did.  When we had eaten half of each, we loaded the rest into the little blue pot for a one-dish repeat the next day, baked at 350' for 30 minutes, with the cover on for the first 20.  
 

Swedish-ish Potato Gratin - Concept

(Adapted from A Trail of Crumbs by Kim Sunee)

  Slice 5 small thin-skinned potatoes & one yellow onion.  Butter a small covered casserole & layer the potatoes over the bottom & sides, reserving half.  Follow with all of the onions, the remaining potatoes & 6 jarred anchovies, plus 1 tablespoon of their oil.  Cover with half & half + 1inch.  Cover & bake at 350' for 35 minutes, check for potatoes to be fork-tender.

Cod Tian - Concept

Using a large oven-proof pan, brown two large cod fillets in a bit of olive oil.  Keep cooking until it all flakes off into little non-descript brown flakes.  Remove to a bowl & season with salt & pepper.  Leave the brown bits stuck to the pan for the next step.  Cut 3 corn cobs into 1" coins.  I take a heavy knife & press into them, then lift the knife along with the cob & give another good bang.  Make sure you are alone & be careful, for goodness sakes.  Then I take each coin & slice it in half.  Okay.  Finely crush & chop four cloves of garlic.  Add both to the pan with 2 Rapunzel Organic Bouillon cubes with herbs (no salt), turn the heat to medium-high & add a good cup of Woodchuck Granny Smith Hard Cider to deglaze the sides.  Use an fresh wooden spoon to fend off the band of men who come rushing into the cabin kitchen because dinner's still a half-hour off.  Okay.

Add a cup of water & 10 finely chopped kale leaves.  Kale is no trouble, really.  Just grab the green with the fingers of one hand, & pull the stem hard with your other.  ("You should saute those stems, Mom.  Just do it with some lemon juice & olive oil so they don't got to waste."  Okay, um, good idea.)  Stir it all & cover.  When they are half-wilted (a few minutes) add a cup of frozen sweet peas.  Season with salt pepper & a good bit of dried thyme.  If you are me, you add a splash of fish sauce here.  Now.  Add the cod.  Fold in a handful of shredded organic white cheddar.  Add some water if it looks dry- it should be soupy.  Chop up some white bread (we used Gillian's wheat, gluten & dairy free French Rolls)  & evenly cover the top.  Cover with white & yellow cheddar.  Broil.  Serve them together, outside, with a bit of drink.

Jamaican Grill @ the Farm

Recently we headed to our local farm for a little Calypso music & Jamaican Grill Night.  There's a single library book that we check out for 6 months at a time, often incurring a bunch of fees that make me feel both guilty & proud to be supporting the cause: Little Farm By the Sea.  Oh, how I love, love that sweet book.  It carries you through  each season in the gentlest way, & I always know the kids are drifting to sleep with lucid pictures of a vibrant farmstand, hoop houses & hills of produce beyond the livestock.  Unlike the farms we know, this dream place quiets down for snow, & there are hills all around.  The first hour here I just kept exclaiming, "This is it!  This is the Little Farm By the Sea!"  It is. Only better, because they open their doors for hot meals.    

I wish I had pictures of the beautiful Jamaican smiles behind the grill & gorgeous vegetarian spread that went with the Jerk Chicken, pulled pork & calypso music, but I was nursing, oohing over the braised greens & organizing the boy's plates while it got dark.   It's not really our farm, obviously, but if you belong to one community food space, then you kinda belong to them all. And this is a community farm - although privately owned, they've built a huge & beautiful pavilion for feeding folks, hosting weddings & events.  It's a project I would so get behind if I lived here.  So I had to share the vision.

Coonamessett's a special place on the Cape, with 20 acres housing a Montesorri Middle School, the Little Sprout's Kid's Summer Garden Program & quite a few other programs.  Not to mention a blueberry field that blew D's mind.  I'm gonna have to get that man an orchard one of these days.  He can then live out his days blissed-out amongst all the fruit he so covets.  We were surprised to see how diverse the clientele was here, until we realized we were outside of Boston, after all.  There's nothing like a good mix of intellectual, economic & cultural diversity to make me feel safe in the world.  But more than that it was inspiring, to see the farm store with cafe, the ice cream booth, school & wind turbine.  Happiness for visiting families, & such a great example of right livelihood.

     

 

huckleberry flotilla

let's go.  row.  2 miles.  for huckleberries.  like blueberries.  but sweeter.  crunchy.  wild.  bear food.  let's go.  row.  to a secret cove with a sugar-sand bottom.    everyone, now.  2 years-old - to ?  3 families with boys.  1 family of girls.  2 families with 3 kids.  2 families with 2 kids.  one swimmer.   find paddles, pedals.  find boats, kayaks, sails, large metal tubs.  share, borrow, steal for a time.  let's go.  row.