RECYCLED GARDEN: HEMLOCK BLUFFS

Last week was the final week of summer for my kids. Being in a new place, and in flux, we’ve not had as many opportunities to go out as a family as we normally enjoy, so I took an afternoon to explore Hemlock Bluffs with the kids. We were not even through the parking lot before Bunny and I agreed we’d have to return with Paul, who will love the place.

The Nature Center is small, but informative, and the kids were fascinated and repelled by the taxidermy examples to show the wildlife up close. Signage informed us that the animals were all recovered road kill or the like, not hunted for the purpose of taxidermy, and that moved them back to fascination.

We hiked the Swift Creek Loop Trail, which was beautiful, and will return to try out the other trails – but with a nice supply of insect repellant. We were eaten by mosquitoes, Bunny and Cole in particular. The area the kids seemed to enjoy most, and which provided a lot of inspiration, however, was the Recycled Garden. Its purpose is to show how everyday items may be used in a container garden both to reuse materials instead of tossing them and to also reduce the cost to the gardener while adding some whimsy.

We came away with some great ideas and inspiration for next growing season.

FROM THE ROAD: SHENANDOAH MORNING

My friend Cecelia was right: we could NOT drive straight through from just east of Kansas City, MO to Northern Virginia in one stretch. My dear friend knows the drive well. Her texts of, “Oh no. No no no,” and the like were clear, but we really wanted to catch up to our babies, who flew unaccompanied minor to my in-laws a few days before. So, we decided to go for it. Heck, I stayed up for 43 hours straight just two days prior, how hard could 1/3 of the continent be compared to that?

Fast forward to I81 in West Virginia at about 1 or 2 in the morning. The fog I’d been driving through at 10 miles below the speed limit suddenly thickened to, well, it was terrifyingly foggy. I could only see two dashes on the freeway ahead of us, and I was going less than 20. For some reason (we’ll call it exhaustion) Paul decided that some trucker with fog penetrating vision was going to cream us from behind and started to… let’s call it voice his concern strenuously (“You’re going to kill us both! PULL OVER! NOW!”) I refused to do that, since, to my thinking, that sounded about 1000x more dangerous to be ON THE SHOULDER OF AN INTERSTATE IN THE FOG (Love you honey, but you freak out sometimes in the car because you are a backseat driver and also a really, really crappy not a very good shotgun—we all have faults, it’s okay.) So I pulled off at some exit at some town and we rested until dawn. Then we rested another hour because: FOG.

Finally we did start driving again, fueled by terrible gas station coffee, and I was the passenger. After a truly awful night we were rewarded richly. I never appreciated the Shenandoah Valley when I could see it all the time. That morning, with the fog lifting, I was breathless. I was… home again. I felt it in my bones and my eyes began to tear.

TOOTH FAIRY ALERT

Looks like someone is starting second grade with a freshly-lost tooth. :)

FROM THE ROAD: BIG SKIES

After crossing the Rockies, we saw what “Big Sky” meant. The sky felt tangibly close. Paul and I swapped turns driving at most fill-ups, and so, I only took photos of, let’s say, “half” the country we sped through, but I made sure to appreciate the views when I could.

IF YOU GIVE A THREE YEAR-OLD A CAMERA

He will take photos!

photos courtesy my nephew, Daniel

THE TIME WE HIKED WITH A GUINEA PIG

While Otis, our cat, was able to fly across country, we were surprised to learn that generally guinea pigs may not go on airplanes. We hypothesized about why, thinking perhaps because she is a rodent, it’s verboten. Whatever the reason, it seemed ridiculous, since a large part of my reasoning in choosing a guinea pig as a small pet was simply this: you never hear someone complain their house is infested with cavys (oh, but how cute would that be?!?).

She may weigh a pound and be a silly bit of silky fur, but Bubo is a part of our family. I love that piggy. So, Bubo accompanied Paul and me on our cross-country drive. I went to the pet store and discussed safe options to allow her comfort as well as adequate water. After a few minutes I realized we already had the right cage: Otis’ rigid cat carrier that we couldn’t use for him on the plane anyway, since carry-on kitties need soft-sided bags to allow under seat stowage. The water bottle clipped right on the front and we were set.

Bubo was our little travelling buddy. Sometimes Paul and I would take turns going to the bathroom in a rest area, but we usually brought her with us when we had to stop for food, gas, rest stop, or to sleep, so she would not get too hot in the car. Paul and I would stretch our legs, and Bubo would too.

In Utah we stopped at a rest area (we try to stop only at rest areas unless we’re hungry or need gasoline) that had a nice hiking trail. Paul and I wanted to climb up the few hundred feet to get a better view, and Bubo might have been the first guinea pig ever to go on that hike.

A few days or so after we were done with our long drive, Paul asked me what are I enjoyed seeing the most on our trip. I replied, “Utah.” He agreed. I don’t know what Bubo thought, though.

HER CARRY-ON

It meowed and purred. It was complimented for its pretty fur by TSA.

Two weeks ago, Paul and I took the kids to the airport, and they flew all the way cross-country unaccompanied. They were brave, and everyone—even the cat—made it in one piece, though poor Carter got sick on the plane. Bunny told me the flight attendants dumped coffee grinds onto the mess and then left it that way. So, they had a weird odor to contend with, but otherwise the flight was uneventful in all the more important ways, and it was a red-eye non-stop.

If you’d have asked me a few months ago if I’d send my kids unaccompanied cross country, I’d have laughed at the thought. However, the reality of driving cross country with three kids made the choice, well, if not easy, it certainly made it practical.

I’m proud of my kids, and especially that girl up there, for their resourcefulness and confidence.

FROM THE ROAD: AN OPPORTUNITY LEFT UNEXPORED

I guess I’ll have to take their word on it about that prairie dog….

KARATE KID

Cole began taking Shotokan Karate when he turned 5. Being a big boy who always seems to be on the tail end of *some* new growth spurt, we felt that, along with soccer for conditioning, karate would help him with body awareness and coordination. After some research, our family decided upon Camp Carter International.

For 7 months, Cole went every Monday and Wednesday night, and eagerly. He’s our “participator” child. (Thank goodness we got one!) He loves an organized performance, a team event, and being told his day is, well, much more full than his siblings do. Some evenings Cole would be so tired after class, that he’d take a bath and pass out on the sofa watching Doc McStuffins (last kiddie show before bedtime), and we’d have a blast trying to navigate his mostly sleep walking self up the ladder into his bed. He loved it when he was covered with sweat after class.

Moving is too full of goodbyes, and Cole had to say “Goodbye” to Sensei James and Sempai Charlie the other week. Sensei indulged us with a few photos for Cole to look at and remember his first karate dojo as he grows up. We’re planning for Cole to continue with a local dojo this fall. Oss!