October Update

Here we are a month later, deep into fall. In southern California that means we have had some of the warmest weather all year.  The pool has had a lot of use.  I've been craving cooler weather, but not minding the warmth.  I relish the heavy feeling of a warm day - probably because the days aren't relentlessly warm here, as they are in, say, Tucson, Arizona.

Our son in Tucson and his fiancee came to visit us earlier in the month to escape the heat. It was in the 80s here that weekend, but for them it was a relief from the 100s in Tucson. They spent a good portion of the weekend at the beach, and we had an Octoberfest dinner out on the back patio one night with our neighbors who used to live in Germany. The warm day made it little hard to pack away as much spaetzle and potatoes as I would have liked; the homemade pretzels and cold beer would have been enough of a meal. 

Much of the last three weeks I spent buried in books. After happily reading books and articles for the paper I committed to present at the online conference for Christianity and Literature, I finally had to sit down for hours and write.  I forget how long it takes to write and think.  I tell my students this all the time: writing is not a short process. I should have started this paper a month earlier.  As I was writing, I realized I had way too much material about Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder AND David James Duncan and Brian Doyle to fit both into a 12 page paper without skimming over a big portion of their work - which would have worked, but I didn't leave myself enough time to work out what I wanted to leave out because I had found so much wonderful material. My idea was to compare their letters with their work, but because I am not well versed in Gary Snyder's work, and because there is so much about Wendell Berry, I decided to just focus on DJD and BD, whose letters are not published, but DJD wrote a really moving tribute to BD in the intro to One Long River of Song, and by combing through their essays and the internet, I found several correspondences between the two - both literal letters and email exchanges and correspondences in their work. So that's what I ended up writing about.  It was still too long for a 20 minute presentation, so I had to skip a few  paragraphs. I think I should fix it up and submit it somewhere. I just don't know where, and after spending so many hours working on it, I don't want to look at it again for awhile. 

The online conference was actually more enjoyable than I expected. As I mentioned, the theme was friendship. I listened in on a couple of sessions - although because the conference was held on a Friday and Saturday, I had other activities scheduled to attend. That's the drawback of a virtual conference - I wasn't committed to being at other sessions. The other presenter in my section wrote about Marilyn Robinson's Housekeeping, which was good - Robinson has a new book out that I would like to read, but I think I might need to revisit Gilead.  About six other people listened in to our talks, and the conversation after we both presented was friendly and, well, conversational, instead of stiff and obligatory.  

And the keynote speech by Paul Waddell, a professor at St Norbert College, about an ethics of friendship was really good. He compared the classical definition of friendship Christianized by Aelred with Augustine's warning about being too attached to friends, but moved away from the ideal to the practical to make the point that our faith calls us to be hospitable, to be a friend and neighbor to all. He proposed a politics of charity to enact that ethic of friendship. I wish I had taken notes to explain more clearly, but I was listening in while catching up for work on class. I made the mistake of scheduling papers due the week before this conference, so I had fifty some essays to grade, in addition to grading the regular assignments AND trying to finish my own paper.  Not good timing. 

But last week I caught up, almost. I used to be two weeks ahead in publishing my online course material; now I'm a weekend ahead. We have four weeks left before finals, and two of those weeks are dedicated to presentations, so I need to finish out the year this weekend - or that was my plan. The weekend somehow slid by without much work being accomplished because I spent time with the kids on Saturday, and Sunday we had a marriage prep meeting with our mentee couple, and I had coffee with a friend in the morning after Mass. Our husbands went on retreat this weekend, so we had our own sharing session over a dark brew.  

Our conversation mostly centered on job transitions, in addition to discussions of women working (re: Amy Coney Barrett). online high school frustrations, and issues surrounding gender and sexuality.  Her husband retired this spring; mine just decided this week that he will officially retire this summer, which I have anticipated for twenty years, but now find terrifying.  Why now, you may ask? I'm asking myself the same question, even though this has been the general plan for years.  We didn't plan for a pandemic or a wedding the month before, but here we are. We've come to the point of facing either retirement or committing to a move we don't want to make. More to come on that decision. 

Other news of the month? I haven't yet mailed in my ballot, but I suppose I will this week. I just want to put my head in the sand for the next four years, regardless of who is elected. I am probably going to write in a candidate like last time around, even though advocates for both sides will tell me that my nonvote is a vote for the other person.  Our church is having adoration the day of the election, so I will pray for unity and peace whatever the outcome may be. 

We have done some fall activities - the pumpkin patch, a short hike on Saturday, pumpkin bread baking. The youngest and I participated in some home school activities - Little Flowers and a recitation day.  She can't stop talking about Halloween, even though I am not sure what that evening is going to look like. I hope we can assuage her desire to dress up and get candy by going to a couple of friends' houses.  I do not want to make a candy chute, but I bought a lot of goodies, and may just leave the bowl in front of our house even if some pre-teen might come and swipe all of it. 

I need to turn my attention now to home school - which has been very light lately. Our recitation day was a big success, but I feel like I need to do some of the fun activities that make home school more hands-on. We haven't done a science lab or history project since the first month.  Reading, arithmetic, and religion get done daily - but the other subjects often get postponed - or are just reading a story from the library about a scientist or a chapter from our history book. Does watching Magic School Bus videos count as science? Time for an injection of delight back into learning.  

Actually, I'm not giving credit to our wonderful field trip we had on Thursday to the pioneer farm. The kids learned about cider making and made corn husk dolls - and then learned about reptiles. I'm not sure why this place has a reptile zoo, but it was fun to hold snakes, pet water dogs (larval salamanders), and learn about geckos. 

Recitation Day: "What is pink" by Christina Rosetti

Tree climbing

Pumpkin haul

A daddy/daughter campout at the beahc

Our farm co-op box: a great haul this time for $35, delivered

Fall color at our house is pink

This hibiscus is hard to capture with an iphone 6 - but I'm not upgrading to 12.

Portrait of plumeria and pumpkin

Our front walkway is really a profusion of pink right now: the oleander and lantana are also blooming

Son number two has a bi-line on an article profiling craftsmen he interviewed this summer during his online internship

Pumpkin patch visit

Corn maze

Friendly goats

Piggy goats

Not so friendly sheep

Oktoberfest

Our dog and his friend we were dog sitting - these guys were mostly a whirling dervish of fur for the weekend.

Basking after hours of play

The little guy is actually a great runner - did a 5 miler the other day

Ballots any one?

We hosted a couple of small socials with work friends. This one was particularly social - perhaps because of the 3 liter...

Swimmer! Swim team started last month - no meets but intersquad scrimmages to practice. 

She's doing great!

 

Sailing through September

As they do for many if not most people lately, the hours have been long and the days short.  I have a checklist that keeps growing instead of getting shorter.  But I'm taking a midmonth pause from the to-do list to catch up the continuing saga of life 'round here, although we don't have much to report in the way of events - mostly conversations about the news. 

I think I left off last time having attended the home school meeting.  Since then, I have read a few more articles about the "Mass Exodus" movement. This group of people who discuss moving to other states is much larger than I realized.   In fact, there are many who contemplate moving from one state to another where others are contemplating moving from.  So total population may shift but not actually change.  There are maps that identify states friendly to home schooling, friendly to anti-vaxxers, friendly to people who don't want to pay high property taxes.  You can pick a state that is more liberal or more conservative - and people who are in those first 3 groups could be either liberal or conservative, although I suppose if you were more liberal you would have a hard time leaving a state because you didn't want to pay high property taxes.  

Since we are in the middle of contemplating a move ourselves, a move that we may have some choice in, I've been sifting through some of these maps  - I like the one that shows the rate that different states tax military retirement income and the map of places with access to outdoor recreation. My daughter made a map where she outlined states that she absolutely would not move to and states that she would consider and states that she would prefer.  Her basis of choice is where she perceives she would be safe. She doesn't like the DC area because of concerns about kidnapping and sex trafficking, but we live in one of the cities with the very highest rates of those crimes in the country - if not the world. This reputable site maps economic issues - highest rate of personal consumption expenditures and highest rate of economic resources from outdoor recreation were two I looked up.  Also on our list of consideration is where our children might end up and where our family currently lives.  Seeing as we have one child who swears she is never leaving California and another who will probably head east after graduation, and five others who may end up anywhere, basing our home address one proximity to our offspring will be hard.

A friend and I went for a hike this weekend and discussed our ideal home, and we both were in agreement that we'd like to have a smallish permanent address but then own a big ramshackle vacation home where everyone can gather in the summers. I'm partial to the lake home vs. the beach house, and even better if the lake house is in the mountains - a place where there isn't much to do except swim, hike, eat well, and sit on the back porch and read.  We'd go stay the summer there, and the kids could all come for their vacations with the grandkids at various times, overlapping perhaps for the Fourth of July. 

But wait - that's for old people! - we're talking about retirement, but it's not REALLY retirement! We have a whole lifetime to live still... maybe. I have trouble remembering how old we really are, especially when even though I could have a grandchild in a year or two, I'm still concerned about getting pregnant. 

Our deadline for making an actual choice about staying in the Navy or getting out keeps getting postponed - it used to be June? Now it might be October? More and more it looks like retirement is the direction we are heading, but the state of the economy and the ease of staying put here one more year to get our son who will be a senior through high school are our two biggest concerns when we consider staying in.  I have to admit, although I complain regularly about living here, it will be hard to leave the good weather, the proximity to mountains and shore, the ease of getting to the library, the grocery store, the church, our friends' back porch... 

On the other hand, I still am frustrated with our school and our church for not providing our kids with the education I should be giving them myself - other than that the teenagers really would benefit from hearing someone else say, "Mass is a wonderful thing!" "Reading will broaden your world, open doors, expand your heart and mind, fill your hours with ideas and images that will give you more satisfaction than that video game or app..."  I've been to three planning meetings about how we can safely provide catechesis during the coronavirus, and each one we have come up with good ideas, and then a couple weeks later, I hear we aren't doing anything.  It makes me contemplate exodus to a different parish.

Perhaps reading Christine Watkins' The Warning for our book club last week was not the best idea.  One of our book club members has lately been hooked on end of the world videos and ideas. This book has been getting a lot of word of mouth promotion in certain circles. I actually talked to our priest about it this weekend, and he seemed very hesitant to give any credence to personal visions and locutions. 

The book is a compilation of stories of people who have had an "illumination of conscience" followed by a radical conversion - although one person was a nun who was simply lazy and indulgent.  The illumination is a vision of their sins and the punishment they should receive for them. The part that arouses skepticism is the prediction that everyone in the world will experience this illumination at the same time in the near future. Time will stop and people will have their personal vision. Airplanes will be paused in the sky.  Some people will die of fright, others will be converted, and others will find an excuse for it, such as calling it a technological glitch.  One seer said it would happen in her lifetime, but now she is nearly 70. These seers include the visionaries from Garabandal, Spain, and Matthew Kelly, but the others I have never heard of, although they apparently sometimes become circuit preachers. 

I am a natural skeptic, but I don't doubt that these people had some sort of vision of their own need for conversion. Our book club was pretty split between readers who see these seers as prophets, and those who see that we all have to prepare for our end, as Jesus tells us, but that anything that predicts a day or time is questionable. 

It is easy to see why apocalyptic forecasts are gaining traction: Fires, earthquakes, pandemics, hurricanes, flooding.  Over Labor Day weekend, ash from the fires in the hills to the east of San Diego fell on our picnic table, although we are an hour away. This was the fire started by the gender reveal party, if you have seen the memes. What a terrible sense of guilt that couple must carry, especially since at least one firefighter died.

The death of Justice Ginsburg on the eve of Rosh Hoshannah is another seemingly apocalyptic moment - I dread the hostilities that are sure to erupt - although I have to admit that I am secretly cheering for Amy Coney Barrett, mother of seven, Notre Dame professor.... Time to quit social media.  I wish we could start the election season over again, with two entirely different candidates.  Why are we stuck with two choices of whom most people aren't really fans, even if they do like the policies?  Is it too late to mount a write-in campaign for a candidate who actually is honest and committed to the well being of the American people and not just to his political success?

That's all I have to say about politics. 

In domestic news -- well, the puppy is doing great.  He is basically housetrained, he doesn't shed, he doesn't destroy much except tissues, and he is entertaining to watch. He's such a strange looking little guy and he has some really amusing habits and expressions.  I wouldn't feel guilty about saying he is an emotional support animal in order to get him on a plane because the kids have really found him a source of joy and affection. Even if he is weird looking.

The kids are healthy. They just had well-checks. The 16 year old is just shy of 6'5.'' I had to buy him more new shoes, even though we don't need to do back to school shopping, because he outgrew his old ones. His toe had rubbed a hole in the end of the shoes I bought around Easter. This kid is hard on shoes.  The bad news was that we also went to the dentist, and three of the kids had multiple cavities. Time to back off the corona candy and ice cream indulgences.  I suspect since we don't go many places that they aren't brushing their teeth in the mornings. 

The kids are also back to practicing sports, but not back to school. Doesn't this seem odd to you? Why can they gather on the football field and throw balls to each other or swim in the pool or run around the neighborhood with no masks on, but we are afraid for them to sit spaced out in a classroom (we could have outdoor classrooms here!) in masks? The school district recently sent a "survey" that questioned whether parents would commit to sending kids back in a hybrid situation. The parent community lit up the Facebook pages about it because not everyone received the email with the survey, and those who did receive it were frustrated because it was hidden in a long newsletter, and it wasn't clear at all that it was actually a commitment to 100% online learning if you didn't fill it out.  I was among those who didn't receive it. A friend texted about it, but she was asking me if I knew what the deal was. I had to call the high school about something else, so I asked about it, but nobody in the front office knew about it. By the end of the day, after the local Facebook page nearly exploded with comments from angry and confused parents, the district had sent a new email with clear instructions. Personally, the online situation has been going pretty smoothly around here, and I like the easy schedule, but if they could go back for woodworking and chem lab and ceramics class, I'm ready to send them in a heartbeat with no fears of viral infection.

My college kids have thus far remained free of illness, even though football season is now in full swing. Again - why can my kids in the Midwest go to football games, but my daughter enrolled in a college in California cannot go to class?  These are the questions that people who contemplate mass exodus ask. I don't want to be one of those people, but here I am. The other irritating thing to me is that although she is attending a private school, the state is apparently preventing them from opening, but the state university here has allowed students to move to campus and for lab students to take in person classes. An outbreak of cases around the university now has led the state to consider placing our county at the "purple" level again - which means no inside business.  The county is petitioning the state to exclude those numbers from the count for the county so that it can stay in the "red" level of business operations, and even move to the "yellow" level. That decision should come out today.

I fear that is politics again. In other news, I really enjoyed reading Distant Neighbors, the collection of letters between Gary Snyder and Wendell Berry. They are delightfully thoughtful, articulate, motivated to make a change in the way they use land and encourage others to use it. Snyder's Buddhist leanings and Berry's Christian perspective aren't taboo topics, but neither are they reasons to weaken the friendship, which develops primarily through writing letters and sharing essays and poetry, between occasional visits.  Stepping into the intimacy of their writings feels a bit voyeuristic, but I loved reading this exchange, and envied them their friendship. 

I am supposed to be writing a longish paper for a conference on friendship for the Christianity and Literature virtual conference in October. My focus is on these friendships of nature writers Snyder and Berry, David James Duncan and Brian Doyle, and initially I thought I would include a nod to the two Johns - Muir and Burroughs.  My focus is more expository than analytical; I just want to bask in the beauty of the their writings and not analyze them.  But I should be working on that rather than musing on the state of the world.  

Here are some photos to finish with: 

The funny fellow

A trip to the tide pools to touch anemones, chitons, limpets, barnacles, and a few dead crabs. I learned from the friendly park volunteer that lobsters molt. 

End of summer shaved ice.

Mountain lake. I could stay in a little cottage here a long time. Maybe forever.

Fall blooming mini lupine

A recommendation

 I meant to post something, anything, before the end of August, but here is September, arriving bright and cool this morning on the West Coast. It will warm up by noon, but today a sweatshirt is needed to sit and drink coffee on the porch.

Not that I am drinking coffee on the porch, although I did carry my coffee out back to watch the puppy do his business and to ensure he did it completely.  He has been a good little guy about going to his space most days and has even rung the jingle bell I hung by the back door just for the purpose of letting us know he has to go out without using his voice. He has found his voice now, but he doesn't bark unnecessarily, just at large dogs he wants to warn away, at small, active boys he wants to run and join, and at me when he wants food or attention.  He also will bark at sleeping teenagers if they forget to close their doors at night. In the morning, if I am being boring and grading papers at the computer, he will look to see if a bedroom door open, so he can go in and ask loudly to be let into someone else's cozy bed. The six year old loves this; the sixteen year does not.

Now that it is September 1st, I have been teaching online for three weeks. If I have not posted in this space recently, it is because I have been researching essays to assign, crafting engaging discussion posts, recording boring and fuzzy grammar videos, and trying to make up quizzes and reading questions that are challenging but not too hard.  None of these are for my military class, which is already completely designed and runs with minimal revisions from me, other than grading, writing announcements, and commenting on discussion posts. But this term, only 4 students signed up and 3 didn't get funding, so that class was cancelled. 

Meanwhile, the three composition courses, one a research writing course, are full semester courses, so the course I have designed for my military students doesn't translate.  In addition, these students are just out of high school and have different abilities.  All of this is to say, planning has taken more time than I thought it would.

I accepted the third class because another teacher left and because I was pretty confident we'd be online this term, which we are, but now that Covid numbers are down in San Diego, we may return to in-person teaching. This will interrupt my home schooling schedule with the youngest. The two high schoolers are doing distance learning, but I don't like to leave them unattended too long, either, because they quickly are distracted and lose track of time during their media breaks - during which they mostly turn to other forms of media. So I partly wish to remain online this semester, even though planning needs to be more detailed.

I went to a home schooling social last night for Catholic moms, and it was heartening until talk turned to vaccines and overreaching government interventions, as well as the anticipated violence no matter who wins the election in November.  That was all disheartening, and I stayed up too late contemplating the end of the world.

But this morning my spirits were lifted, not just by the cool weather that makes my coffee taste better even though I'm drinking it in front of the computer, but because I started reading Brian Doyle essays again. I have been reading his work in preparation to write another paper that I really need to start, and because I assigned "Joyas Voladoras" to my students, and because his writing is beautiful and heartening. He was a genius at illustrating small miracles, until the tragedy of his death at age 60 in 2017.  You can read some of his short essays he called epiphanies, which are more prose poems, here at The American Scholar, and also at the University of Portland magazine, which is more difficult to navigate, and at America Magazine and Orion and The Sun.  Go read now, and have your heart enlarged, also. 

Updates about the state of things 'round here

It has been two weeks since that last post, and our quarantine is lifted. My husband went back to work yesterday after two weeks of fielding calls from home. A lot of his work these days centers around covid testing and tracing. It was nice having him around because I have been glued to the computer for the last two weeks getting my class converted to online status. He was happy to take a lunchtime swim in the pool with our daughter, so I could focus. Secretly I have been glad to have the excuse to turn down the occasional request for a play date.  Not that we have much to cancel. 

Since we got Ben's test results, I have heard at least 5 different cases of people who got calls that they were positive -- and they didn't even take a test! One waited in line but had to leave before her turn, another had an appointment but didn't show, and 3 were people who received mail-in tests but never mailed them in.  It makes you lose a little faith in the system. 

If my son had never had the scare with the contact with his boss, I would have no doubt that his test was flawed. Maybe there is a slim possibility that he had trace amounts of virus that didn't show up before his first test, but whether the test was right or not, he certainly has not been sick, nor has anyone he has been in contact with.  

The boys started school this week - This is the Princess Cake our third son made before leaving. That is homemade marzipan on the outside. They also made homemade steamed buns that turned out deliciously.

So on to other things:  I am really craving a trip to the mountains. Everyone is going on vacation these days.  I need to take a break from social media, so I'm not triggered by envy.  I already had a couple little camping trips this summer. I should be basking in those memories, instead of wishing fo rmore.  Sometimes I need a good reminder to be grateful for what we have and have done.

Diagon Alley

A hike before my second son left.

For instance, today is the feast of Santa Chiara, our daughter's patron. I made a trip to Trader Joe's and picked up some cacio e pepe ravioli, a baguette, heirloom tomatoes to make bruschetta, asparagus, some mozzarella and prosciutto, and meringues because somewhere on the internet my husband read that they are a dessert for St. Clare. I'd have preferred gelato, but I wasn't going straight home after the store. Plus, she won a pint of free gelato a month for a year from the local gelato place awhile back. (Guess how much a pint costs at this place? $14.  I bought one because I felt a little badly she was getting a free pint a month, but now I've done my part. I think this place will survive the Covid shutdown because it is the kind of place you order and walk out. And there seem to be plenty of people out buying food on the town these days. The city has granted restaurants the right to set up tables on the sidewalk and in some street parking spots so that they can stay in business.)

I made a browned butter, sage, and garlic sauce to go with the ravioli. I haven't cooked in weeks because the kids and my husband had taken over the kitchen, but I have to say, supper was ready in less than 30 minutes, and it was really, really good.  A little trip to Italy in the imagination.

What else is going on? The fall sports started practicing, but their seasons are postponed till winter.  The cross country team is still practicing, and our son went to enough football conditioning sessions before they ended to get motivated to use the weights I bought back in April more. 

I had a basal cell skin cancer removed. It was a tiny spot, but the dermatologist removed a huge chunk of flesh. The last time they just carved out a spot, it left a little scar like a cigarette burn, but now I look like I've been bitten by a shark. I'd post a picture of how awful it looked the day after the surgery, but I vagelled when I saw the photo of it my daughter took, so I won't traumatize you, although we all have a fascination with the gross. I had to lay on the floor until I didn't feel faint anymore.  The doctor who did it was a resident, and while he was stitching, the attending physician made him redo a couple stitches. I feel like someone's science fair project.  Here's hoping the vitamin E oil I'm rubbing on it will minimize the welt. 

Another thing occupying my time has been fielding questions about home schooling. A part of me wonders if I could have stuck with home schooling through those few hard years when Dan was gone all the time, we''d have reached a place of smooth sailing.  Our daughter who needed a boost in math just finished an online summer math class for high school that was not synchronous with a B+.  So I could see how we could have used online resources for teaching hard topics. And now that they are home all day with just a couple friends that they see on a regular basis, they have settled in. When I am tempted to look back with regret, I remind myself of the good teachers they have had at both the Catholic and the public school. I remember going to a spouses' club meeting years and year ago when my older kids were tiny, and two moms were arguing about private vs. public schools. It was awful and uncomfortable, but even now I remember the public school mom saying she wanted her kids to be salt and light for the earth. That's a lot to ask of teens, but it stuck with me.

And now here we are back to home schooling in a way.  I am officially home schooling the first grader, but the two high schoolers will be online from 8-1 everyday. We have to get a new laptop and wifi extender pronto. They start in two weeks. I start online on Monday, as does my college daughter. She laid on the floor and cried when they announced students wouldn't be coming to campus. Meanwhile, the two boys going to school in Indiana started class this week.  

And I will be teaching 3 classes online this semester. I was originally signed up for just one, but one of the composition faculty decided to retire early rather than transition online.  Although my military class has been hybrid or completely online that past few years, it is not a synchronous class, and it is only 8 weeks instead of 15. I don't use many bells and whistles with that class - I post a few videos, but mostly communicated through the announcements and email and point them to outside resources. The grammar videos out on the world wide web are much flashier than mine. I use TedEd and Hippocampus for videos primarily, and post some of my own materials.  We do miss out on reading essays together for examples of fine writing, but the students have to reflect on them in the discussions. It's a weak substitute, but it accommodates the schedule of military personnel who are frequently out to sea. 

For these classes at the school where I'm teaching now, I am trying learn about all of the interactive features in Zoom (how to take attendance and polls and setting up break out rooms and integrating Jamboard and Google sites), and creating videos for the grammar material, instead of pointing to external sites, although I may do half and half.  I am not a film maker, although I've been watching trainings that the university is offering and trying out some of these things. But it took me 2 hours the other day to make a 10 minute Screen-cast-o-matic video and get it uploaded, in between re-recording because of interruptions or me messing up my script and trying to download and then upload the file, which should be easy, but I'm working with the free version, and there's a learning curve...

As a stay at home mom, I appreciate the opportunity to work from home, but I will need to relinquish over-thinking and be satisfied with good enough in a number of different areas of life for a month or two or more until we hit our stride. 

All that to say - a lot of people are turning to home schooling their younger kids right now. A friend at church has started a text group of 14 other moms from our parish who are checking out of school. We met yesterday to talk about getting together occasionally and share books and info on the legal process in California. I'm happy for these families to be finding each other and all the wonderful resources online. While church attendance is down, families are bonding together more at home, in prayer and play. 

And lastly - the puppy! He is doing great. He's funny looking and funny acting. He has a spazzy session every night after supper until he finally flops down beside whichever kid has the cushiest pillow on the couch. He has been a great source of distraction for the kids. He still has the occasional accident when we aren't attentive, and he picks up any loose socks left on the ground, but he is pretty good about dropping them without a wild chase.  The youngest is sad that she is not his favorite - he usually picks a more sedentary teen to lay by - but other than that, he has meshed into family life pretty smoothly. 

While I have been designing an online class space, the rest of the family has been watching the survival show Alone and the international food show Ugly Delicious, which does teach about food and culture - but the language!  I did sit down with the older kids to watch A Hidden Life the other day, but no one could stay awake. It was very Terrence Malick, lots of anguished looks, waifish females walking through fields of grass, and dramatic embraces, along with absolutely stunning scenes of the Austrian mountains.  Watching it reminded me of watching a ballet - quiet drama, a bit overacted.  It is beautiful, but could be shorter than three hours. I did appreciate the point it was making about the quiet lives of small heroes, but that analysis rests a lot on the helpful quote at the end from George Eliot's Middlemarch, from which the title is taken.

We also watched JoJo Rabbit, which was much more fun to watch. Colorful, playful, clever, but I knew what was coming in the end. Well, not the absolute end, but the sad part. It reminded me a bit of Life is Beautiful, but self-consciously so. The young star was phenomenal for a child actor.

What else? I have mostly been reading essays for class, but I did finish a book about a man who was imprisoned and tortured in Iraq under Saddam Hussein before coming to American as a refugee. I reread Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God, which was beautiful. I had forgotten much of it. And the last Penderwicks book, The Penderwicks at Last, was also fun to read, but bittersweet because the girls are grown up and getting married. And Fun Home, which is one of those books that has received so much acclaim I felt I ought to read it. It is a moving, but difficult, graphic novel to read. I turned it in to the library before the kids could read it, but I can see why it has garnered a lot of attention.  I also read most of White Fragility. My husband's leadership group is reading it. It, too, is hard to read.  

On the other hand, I am excited about reading One Long River of Song, the collection essays of Brian Doyle published just after he died. I am calling this a school purchase for me.  Now I'm going to publish this and get back to course design. 

 

The flowers are thriving.

Covid adventures and a poem

We just received the news that one of our college sons is Covid positive. This is based on a test he took at home and mailed in before going to school.  They misplaced his test and had to reprocess it, so he didn't receive the results until he was sitting in the Dallas Fort Worth airport yesterday morning during his layover from San Diego to South Bend.  The doctor told him to stay in Dallas until this morning because then it would be 10 days since test date.  So he got a hotel room at the airport - DFW is convenient for this - and spent the night and now is on the way to South Bend. 

Not a symptom has he displayed. Nor has anyone else in the household.  But back on the Fourth of July, his worked his second job at the pizza place, came home and had dinner with us and a four of our friends, and then woke up the next morning to a call that his boss was positive with the virus.  His boss has now been in the hospital almost two weeks.   This first announcement scared us all. We notified our friends, shut the doors, and stayed at home for 14 days except for a few runs to the store.  In the meantime, our son was tested twice, and both tests came back negative.  I was tested and was negative, and our other son who works at a restaurant also tested negative.  So four negative tests in the family - which makes me skeptical of this positive test.  

Now we are in waiting mode, locked down again in quarantine.  We've had to notify a few people that we've seen in the last week.  I would like to count our 14 days from the day our son took his test, but the doctor said we should count our 14 days from the last contact.  He also said that the less conservative measure is 10 days without symptoms. And another option is to test at 4 days after the last contact and 7 days after the last contact. If those tests are both negative, then the quarantine is lifted. That option isn't really practical since we are so many people in one household.  

Blah. Is there a vaccine yet? I'll volunteer to be in the trials...

I came across this haiku from a link somewhere - it makes me miss the summer evenings of sitting on the back porch laughing and drinking wine and figuring out how to solve all the problems in the world. 

a party  

BY JOHN BRANDI

a party

where everyone says goodbye

then stays

John Brandi, "a party" from Seeding the Cosmos. Copyright © 2010 by John Brandi. Reprinted by permission of John Brandi.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/153125/a-party

Notes from a recent read: Backpacking with the Saints: Wilderness Hiking as Spiritual Practice by Belden Lane

I've had Belden Lane's book Backpacking with the Saints: Wilderness Hiking as Spiritual Practice checked out from the library since February - the advantage of the library being closed. But I'm feeling guilty about it, so I'm finally getting around to making some notes about it.  It begins with two pages of epigraphs, some that I've included on my syllabus for my nature writing class. They include:

Solvitur ambulando (It is solved by walking) - Attributed to St Jerome?

"I don't think it is enough appreciated how much an outdoor book the Bible is. It is a hypaethral book, such as Thoreau talked about- a book  open to the sky. It is best read and understood outdoors, and the farther outdoors the better." - Wendell Berry, Christianity and the Survival of Creation

Wilderness is not a luxury, but a necessity of the human spirit." -Edward Abbey Desert Solitaire

"Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Note it; read it. God, who you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink; instead He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that?" St Augustine, The City of God

I'm mournful that I am not teaching nature writing this fall; instead the full time, tenured faculty member who first initiated the course is teaching it again. The University is inaugurating an interdisciplinary minor in sustainability studies, which she is helping to spearhead, as she has degrees in literature and biology. I would like to be a part of it, but I will be teaching a composition course again this fall. I do have a section of Nature Writing in the spring, if the spring ever returns.

Lane wrote this book before he retired from teaching theology at University of St. Louis. In it, he describes what spiritual insights he gained from backpacking and reading spiritual masters while on the trail. He mostly hikes alone, although his shepherd dog Desert accompanies him most of the time. His trips mostly take place around the Ozarks, not too far from his St. Louis home, but the place is not so important here as the process.  Reading while backpacking requires a commitment - books add precious weight to a pack - plus a journal, pencil, some sort of light. Lane argues that combining book wisdom with experiential learning leads to some intense insights and epiphanies.  One of his theses is that the wilderness and reading certain texts both pose dangers - to body and to soul. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that books and backpacking both change a person and provide both challenges and balms.

The structure of the book outlines these: He sees a pattern in the development of a wilderness spirituality and of backpacking beginning with departure, then discipline, descent, and ending with delight, (he acknowledges Campbell's archetypal hero's journey). Lane begins by summarizing what he has learned from his reading in spiritual masters from the past and present. These writers and his own practice confirm that both spiritual growth acquired by reading and prayer, as well as by backpacking require solitude and self-abandonment, moving on the margins, relinquishing desires, seeing failure as growth, recognizing physical discipline as a source of spiritual insight, resisting the trappings of culture, and being open to a wider "community of exchange" - here he means the wilderness and all that is in it.

Lane's style of backpacking is one that fits the life of an academic who teaches near the hills - he takes weekend trips to the Ozarks, although Aravaipa Canyon in Arizona is the first hike he describes.  He does do some longer trips, but he is not describing how to take long backpacking trips in this book.  Neither does he particularly focus on describing his hikes. The places he introduces the reader to are not described in a lot of detail - I'd almost like more color in the description of place and the challenges and process of backpacking, but this isn't a manual. Nonetheless, he does indulge in lyrical language at times. For example, of the Sonoran Desert he writes, "Hildegard of Bingen might have said that I'd touched the body of God as well, running my hand across a startling vulnerability. Blood-stained rocks and strip-mining scars lingered in its flesh, but the vibrating life was unmistakable. Here was a God known  in the sinew and flesh of bedrock and cactus, smitten by longing -- a great desert cat prowling the edges of abandonment, lurking unseen in teh shadows, hungry for love." (5)

This reflection follows a view of the desert canyon from a high cliff - but much of hiking is just slogging along a trail. This continuous movement results in a different kind of insight - the "effortless pattern of flow"  - complete absorption into the task at hand without having to think about it, the state of being that convinces long distance runners, hikers, swimmers, bikers, writers, readers, etc to persist.

The book is dense with quotes - sometimes overwhelmingly so: Barry Lopez, Wendell Berry, David Abram, the poet Novalis, scripture, Martin Buber follow each other in a two page spread. Tielhard de Chardin's "spirituality of wonderment" is a guiding theme - we offer experience wonder in nature, the same wonder that leads us to a generous Creator. Chardin offers a mass on the altar of the earth, recognizing the cosmic nature of Christ's body.

Lane describes feeling guilt as a young person because he preferred being outside to being in church, but he comes to realize that knowing God is a matter of physical connection as well as spiritual - the medieval mystics talk of tasting, savoring, and relishing God.  Our encounters with God in the wilderness are physical, and a relationship with creation is a connection with the Creator relying on both physical and spiritual encounters.

By reading spiritual masters while removing himself from his comfortable living room, Lane is able to encounter and consider their words in new ways. Awareness of the words, of his own immediate surroundings, of his body carrying book itself, of the discipline of the saint, and of God's work in the world all merge to expand and deepen his understanding of the inexpressible ideas that the saint was trying to convey.  He reads Pilgrim's Progress  and feels the reality of the allegories.  John Climacus's Ladder of Divine Ascent describes virtues of simplicity, watchfulness, and courage that are essential to the Christian and to the hiker. Jean-Pierre de Caussade's Abandonment to Divine Providence teaches attentiveness to the "sacrament of the present moment," a practice that can be honed on the trail. Julian of Norwich teaches him to let go of fear and stay calm while alone in the wild.

I would like to spend more time noting some of the insights Lane shares as he describes his own spiritual growth through his journeying, a type of pilgrimage into God's creation instead of to a site of martyrdom or miracle, but I'm running short of time, and there is just SO MUCH in this book. I borrowed it from the library, but I'm tempted to buy a copy just for the notes on the texts. If I have a reservation about this book, it's that it relies almost too heavily on quotes from different texts. It's almost as if Lane wanted to include every quote he loves - an impulse I am guilty of.

The guides he dives most deeply into are The Live of Columba by an abbot of Iona, St. Therese of Lisieux's Autobiography, Thomas Traherne's Centuries of Meditation, which are his "poetic reflections on God's presence in nature," Soren Kierkegaard's Journals, in which he explains the 4 gifts of solitude: 1. "Capacity for separating the individual from the crowd" - no performance of self -  "to stand alone before God", 2. "Ability to nurture true self" 3. "access to the mystery found at the core of our being" - that God is in the self, 4. Connection to the "larger, otherwise hidden community of the natural world."  These gifts in turn call for the responsibility to take care of the self, to take care of and honor the land, and to be accountable to and for others.

Dag Hammarksjold's journal Markings is another text that gets a close look.  The secretary-general of the UN "fed his inner tranquility" with mountain hiking.  A great quote "in the point of rest at the center of our being... we encounter a world where all things are at rest. .. . Then a tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation." (93)

Small books like Brother Lawrence's The Practice of the Presence of God  and Thich Nhat Hanh's The Miracle of Mindfulness also are carried at times in Lane's pack.  Thich Nhat Hanh and Merton knew each other and shared a similar attention to presence and monastic practice. Backpacking requires a similar attention to what is immediately in front of you, for safety and for sanity.  Backpacking and monasticism also create rituals of everyday practices - packing, eating, making camp, etc.

In the "Descent" section John of the Cross gets a close examination. His dark night of the soul required him to relinquish a desire for possession and to accept absence as a source of longing.  Confronting fear of absence - or physical fear on the trail - is one way of acknowledging that God's presence was at one time know.  Lane also muses on Martin Luther's experiences of failure and challenges in comparison to his failure to summit Mt Whitney (familiar).  He is more generous to Luther than I might be.  Lane also reminded me of Rudolf Dreikurs, whose name was bandied about in my early years of child-rearing because he encouraged parents to let their children make mistake - to have "the courage to be imperfect."  He also invokes a couple of desert fathers, John Climacus and Abba Poema, who are gentle on the failures of their fellow monks, not that moral failure isn't significant, but that God forgives, while we cannot know the interior of the sinner. The Cloud of Unknowing also addresses our fear of failure, which can lead to fear of losing control and fear of loving.  Setting of into the unknown requires openness to the possibility of suffering, as does opening oneself up to love. This is so true of parenting - we cannot control what we love, and we will be wounded, but letting go and trusting is a part of loving fully.  Giving up control, even of language in the example of  The Cloud of Unknowing, is a way of emptying the mind to let the heart guide.  The author says that "It is not what you are nor what you have been that God looks at with his merciful eyes, but what you desire to be."  That is a comforting thought for a frequent failer.

The section on "Delight," begins with a chapter about discernment - trying to find what is authentic among what is illusory in our lives.  This is a process I really struggle with as we move closer to my husband's retirement from the Navy and the next phase in his career.  I met with our priest before Covid shutdowns to try to get some insight into the discernment process and duly made charts of consolations and desolations.  But my resulting data offers no clear preference.  Perhaps mixed in between desire, duty, resistance to change, responsibility, aspiration, whatever all the mixed motives involved in making a decision about a major shift in life after having relinquished control for so many years are, there should be some clear, authentic self that yearns toward one path. Part of me that feels like God's will is out there somewhere and we just have to find it, but perhaps it is what should be most obvious to the interior self.  Maybe I have a split personality - what is the personality type that can't make decisions?  Of course, it's not entirely my decision to make anyway - plenty of external factors will limit our choices, which seem limitless at this moment.

Lane reflects on discernment with Rumi as a guide.  Rumi suggests that we shouldn't ask "what should I do? " or "What is expected of me?" but "what do I love? What arises now most naturally from my heart?" (159). Rumi, as a Muslim mystic, "spoke of creation as God's first prophet, a window revealing God as the 'hidden treasure' within all things. 'The world is like a reed pipe and God blows in its every hole.'"  Lane goes on to write, "This ability to discover the holy in everything is a gift of discernment that emerges from one's encounter with an extraordinary human being, a revelatory text, or a vivid experience of nature."  (161) He also credits Ignatius of Loyola for promoting meditative prayer that begins with a reflection on plant life and the elements.  Christian teaching overlaps other traditions in perceiving nature as a teacher and as reflective of God's glory.

Maybe I need to go hiking by myself for several days with a backpack full of books and notebooks. That sounds a little like Heaven to me, which is probably why this book appealed to me. Perhaps my indecisiveness comes from a love of many things...

Similarly, time alone in nature increases love for fellow creatures - knowledge and mystery go hand and hand, and an appreciation of community and interdependence grows. Thomas Merton, Desmond Tutu, and Teilhard de Chardin are the spiritual masters lane refers to in his section on Community. De Chardin's Divine Milieu and The Heart of the Matter both reflect on the interconnectedness of the physical and spiritual, beauty and danger, love and suffering. Creation is "God's chosen instrument" and "a living host." (177). This isn't to say that nature is God, but that God is present in the things that He creates and animates. I'd like to dive into Teilhard de Chardin's way of thinking even more - he has a subtle way of understanding evolution and scientific theories about the cosmos within a theological perspective that appeals to my own vague understanding of the alignment of faith and reason in these mysteries.

The final section of the book points to accountability and a responsibility to teh community of anture. He quotes Edward Abbey's line, "Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul." (181) But Lane also invokes Martin Luther King, Jr, and Gandhi to apply their theories of nonviolent action and the need for spiritual discipline to sustain community to the crusade for environmental justice. The privilege of experiencing "wilderness" hiking continues to be limited by the decimation of the wilderness - if there are even any wild places left.  Rarely are you ever really alone on a trail.

Lane recognizes the challenge of letting someone else's words stand in for our own experience, though.  The goal isn't supposed to be an iconic experience, or an attempt to live someone else's practice, but to fill our own genuine longing, even if the experience isn't revelatory or sublime, but simply an encounter with ordinary beauty - like a reunion with a good friend.  He truly feels the "communion of saints" as he reads them and finds the similarities with his own experiences. He combines lectio divina  with lectio terrestris.

One of the last chapters, with reference to Merton, recognizes the folly of taking any of this too seriously.  Reading - like hiking - is dangerous but also magical (reference to David Abrams, whose interesting essay on the magic and ecology is in my anthology of nature writing).  The hiker, like the hero, eventually returns home. This book is his attempt to share his synthesis of all of these ideas and experiences - an ambitious project. These ideas have all been said before, these places explored and described before, but each person's connections between people, place, and idea adds to the communal understanding - and to sympathy and longing.  With a nod to Abraham Herschel, Lane ends the book with his promise to share the wonder - "Wonder is the wellspring of love ... and love, in teh end, is what drives us to a passion for all things wild and at risk."

June- July Picture post

Despite being on somewhat restricted movement, we have had a relatively full summer. After the birthdays, graduation, and confirmation in mid- June, the two youngest and I took a quick trip to Arizona to visit our oldest, who just moved into his first apartment and started his first salaried job.  He is officially independent, although I think I am still paying for his cell phone (that's going to stop...) and we loaned him a bit to get him started out before his first paycheck. I mention this to remind myself of our approach when the next few take flight and leave the nest.  I want to help our kids out as they head off into the world, but I also want to treat them each fairly, while at the same time. I acknowledge that different kids may need different levels of assistance getting started. We were blessed to inherit a bunch of furniture and cast off household goods when we first started housekeeping because my grandparents were breaking up their home to live with my aunt and uncle at the same time.  It made starting out easier - although now I still own some random kitchen implements that I can't get rid of because they are antiques...

At any rate, visiting my adult son was a novelty.  He has a couch and a bed and an air mattress. I brought him a table and chair that I bought at a garage sale.  I also tried to bring him a box spring, but we had a mishap on the drive out.  My husband had strapped the box spring to the top of the Suburban, but halfway through the desert, the straps strapped, and the box spring went flying off the roof. The metal part of the ratchet tie hit our back window and shattered it. I had to pull off the highway, run down a bit to pull the box spring off the road (it already was mostly on the shoulder.) Praise the Lord that it didn't cause an accident. I tried to use a bit of packing tape we had in the car to secure the tarp that had covered the box spring over the broken window (too many prepositional phrases there), but it wasn't secure enough to drive another 3 or 4 hours, so we stopped in the next town where one of those mobile glass repair trucks met us an a gas station and taped up some cardboard over the broken window.  They didn't charge us a thing - just asked for Yelp review, which of course, we gave them, a glowing report and five stars.

Once arrived in Tucson, we had another bit of a scare when we took a wrong turn on the way to my son's apartment complex.  We found ourselves in front of a building that looked like a halfway house, or worse. Surely this was the wrong address.  And it was - a south number instead of north or whatever the mistake was. But this area, with barbed wire fences, free roaming pitbulls, and condemned buildings is only about a mile away from where our son has found a place to live. He went for cheap and close to work instead of a prime location.  He'll probably only live out his year lease because then he gets married next summer. His complex is clean and has a nice pool, but I don't see his fiancee loving the location. The school where she is teaching is a 20 minute drive, so not far, but for the next year, she will live in an old convent on the campus with the other volunteer teachers.

Tucson is an interesting city. We didn't really explore the town much, although we sampled two different shaved ice places. We ate Chinese take out for dinner one night and choose your own entree from Trader Joe's the next night.  The first day we did a little shopping for household goods, but we also got up early to take a hike through the Saguaro National Park, which actually has two locations, on the east and west sides of Tucson.  A hillside rings the city, so it is surrounded by hiking and biking trails, although one mountain was burning, apparently under control.  It was far enough away that we couldn't smell the smoke, but at night we could see the flames.

We probably should have started our hike an hour or two earlier, because even at 9 am, it was hot. And by the time we finished shortly after 10, it was over 100 degrees. Time for more shaved ice.  The hike was relatively flat, but difficult to follow in a couple areas, because determining where the trail winded through the cacti was sometimes difficult. I couldn't stop taking photos of the saguaros. They were just finishing their blooming season, and the fruits were beginning to burst like another burst of red flowers. And the cacti themselves were enormous. Their arms were so expressive, pointing in different directions.  I loved the hike, but the girls were wilting.

Three days were all we stayed in Arizona, because we needed to get back to celebrate Father's Day together. It was a very low key day, capped by some surfing time.  Poor dads. They don't get the pomp and circumstance that moms do.

Not wanting to let the dust settle on the Suburban, I loaded it up a couple days later with camping gear. My 14 year had asked to go camping with her friends, and even though the Arizona trip had been a little stressful between the drive and also having to finish grading some coursework, I didn't want to let a request to go camping go unanswered. This time we went north east to the San Bernardino National Forest. The campgrounds weren't crowded midweek. I don't know why we haven't visited this area before - it was beautiful, and only a 2. 5 hour drive.  Maybe because it is close to LA? Or close to Big Bear, the ski resort area? Or because it was on fire a couple years ago?  At any rate, I already want to go back and hike Mt San Gorgonio, when is the highest mountain in Southern California (if you count Mt. Whitney northern California).

Again we met with a little stumbling block at the beginning. The camp spot I had reserved was pretty and had large sites, but minutes after setting up our tents, a couple pulled up to the site across from ours. The man had a beer bottle, and the woman, who was driving, was crying and cursing and accusing him of wanting to break up. They were obviously intoxicated or high or something.  I kept hoping they would just hurry up and break up and leave, but the woman kept setting up the tent while the guy occasionally called her mean names and responded unintelligibly to her shouted accusations.  It was a scene.  When the camp manager came around to check people in, I asked him if we could move.  Unfortunately, this campground didn't have any sites with two nights availability, but he directed me down the road a couple miles to a more primitive campground that was first come first served. Since it was also a National Forest property, the fees I had paid could apply to this place, too. He told me to give that camp manager his name, and we'd be all good. He didn't seem to be too upset by the warring couple, but he didn't seem surprised by my request to move.

So the girls and I threw our stuff back in the car to check out the other place. It was infinitely preferable. The sites were shaded by big pines and redwoods, and only a few sites were occupied. A creek ran through the middle of the  campground dividing the tent only sites from the sites with access for trailers. But there were no electric hook-ups here and no flush toilets, so most of the other campers were in tents, too.  And the trail I wanted to try was just across the street.  Despite the inconvenience, we felt like we won the lottery.  So the girls set up the tent, complete with battery operated fairy lights, and we made ourselves at home.  They had a great time burning marshmellows and pine cones and settled down early to sleep.  I had my own tent with the six year old, who was thrilled to be camping and delighted in every detail, except getting left behind by her sister and her friends.

The next day we did a six mile hike to a river, which wasn't the prettiest. We saw lizards and squirrels and plenty of birds and butterflies, but no bears or deer.  The only other wildlife was some lady relieving herself right at the trailhead. She didn't even attempt to find cover, and then she yelled at the girls to look away - which of course, caused them to look right at her. Embarrassing all around. She, too, didn't seem quite sober.

I promised the girls ice cream in the afternoon, so we drove to the little resort town to get treats.  After waiting in the longest drive through line ever, we were finally refreshed and ready to head back to the site, when we ran into another road block. A fatal accident had occurred on the twisting mountain road near where we were staying. The road was closed and the coroner was still two hours away.  I debated turning around and heading back into town for pizza, but after consulting with the road crew who were manning the road block, I decided to wait a bit. One of the guys was trying to get permission for people who weren't going all the way down the road to be allowed to pass.  Just as I was about to give up hope, and the girls were beginning to get anxious for a bathroom, the road crew moved the barrier for "local traffic" to go through.  So we were able to go back and cook our hot dogs and baked beans and then hike up the hill behind the campground to watch the sunset. I don't like feeling aggravated by someone else's tragedy, but empathy was elusive.

After these two adventures, we settled in to celebrate a couple more birthdays - 18 and 16 - and the Fourth of July.  We had two neighbors over for a cookout on the Fourth, friends that we have seen regularly for wine on the porch or long exercise walks.  But I was struck with guilt when, the Monday after the Fourth, our son found out his boss at the pizza place, was Covid positive.  Although we were tertiary contacts, we let everyone know and my husband decided to work from home until our son was able to get tested and get his results. We found out yesterday that he is negative, which we assumed, because he and his boss consistently wore their masks at the restaurant. It was a scare, though. And now our 16 year old needs a test before he can go back to his job washing dishes at the French bistro in town. This was  cush job for him, but we've had difficulty getting him a test because his PCM won't order one for someone asymptomatic, and the walk-up site only tests people over 18. Since we waited in line there, I went ahead and got tested myself.  We have an appointment scheduled at a state testing center next week, but I'm halfway worried they will turn him away, too.  He may not be able to go back to washing dishes. Since he made about $500 already this summer, he isn't too sad about having his weekend evenings back.

So that brings us to the present.  The 16 year old's birthday was yesterday, and since we were on restriction waiting to hear about our older son's test, he didn't see any friends, except a couple who dropped off gifts for him on our front porch. Plus he was already on restriction for not being where he said he was going to be on the Fourth of July.  I might have been a little more than a little upset when I found out. There were a few illegal displays of fireworks around the area.  Another concern is a breakout of positive Covid tests among some kids in my older daughter's class - a graduation party that got too big. Thankfully, it didn't involve anyone in her small circle of friends, but some of these kids work around town in summer jobs. I'll be happy when a vaccine is developed.

I have a couple book posts brewing in my mind, but by the time I get around to writing them, I likely will have forgotten what I wanted to say ... the peril of not writing down thoughts immediately.

A balcony shot - I did not get very good first apartment photos.

Fire on the hillsides of Tucson.

Desert landscaping at the school where my future daughter-in-law works

Starting a desert hike - still smiling.

Looking for lizards

Petroglyphs

Saguaro NP landscape

Don't touch the prickly pears. 

A tunnel web

Cactus flowers

Large saguaros. The sky even looks hot. 

A dying saguaro is a home and food source for other creatues.

Relief from the heat

A home of his own

Father's Day feast

I picked up a couch at a yard sale, so we rearranged our family room. A place to lounge

The fateful first site.

Someone loves sleeping in a tent!

Trees for hammocks at the second site. 

Crossing the creek

Redwoods

Snapdragon like wildflowers

Trout lilies?

I want this cabin in the woods.

Waiting for sunset and bears.

Wait for me!

Our third hike was to Jenks Lake, a pleasant little fishing lake in the hills.

Baby ducks

A legal adult!

Ice cream cake with whipped cream frosting,  a brownie crust, and a chocolate chip cookie middle layer. Yum. 

Happy Fourth!

Sparklers!

Worn out!

A short hike to Elfin Forest Recreational Reserve

As you can see, the landscape wasn't quite fairy land - or as pretty as the San Bernardino NF

Olivheim Reservoir

Playing in the creek to cool off after a hot hike.

Sweet sixteen!

Cherry icebox pie and eclair desert instead of cake for this guy.