Operation "Make Fall Fun"

I love the fall, but it's always hard to make the transition from the warm vibrance of summer. I mentioned the end of summer to a friend the other day, and he groaned and asked me not to talk about it. It's especially tough here in the PNW where our summers are so short and haphazard. Luckily, we had an amazing, mostly sunny month of September, but now October has hit with shorter darker days and a deep chill to the night air. Of course, there's nothing we can do about it, so I think it best to embrace this fall. Heck, even make it fun! That's what I told my reluctant friend- time to get excited and proactive about this beautiful, darkening time of year.

Here are some ideas that help me...

* Cultivate forgotten indoor activities: Cook! Renew your netflix subscription! Play board games! Sew! Knit hats! Write an artful letter to your aunt! Read those books that have been on your list. I've started reading more again, most recently Bird By Bird (Anne Lamott), Rabbit, Run (John Updike), and The One-Straw Revolution (Masanobu Fukuoka).

*Eat 'harvest' foods: There is so much amazing food this time of year! It's the best of end of summer with (finally!) ripe tomatoes, beans, greens, cucumber, corn, and zucchini, but the winter squashes are in too. I love seeing pumpkins at the stores, and I got inspired by this month's Sunset magazine to try some new pumpkin recipes. I made the Cashew, Coconut, and Pumpkin Curry which was great, and I still have my eye on the pumpkin gingersnap ice cream and caramelized orange pumpkin flan. With all this food in season, it's also a great time to start canning if you haven't already. Last week I was in Bellingham and stopped by Joe's Garden and couldn't pass up the 25 pound box of beets. Twenty-five pounds! I did a big round of pickling of beets, green beans, and carrots, and something about all those different colors in glass mason jars makes my heart warm and grateful.

*Keep playing outside: Just because it's a bit cooler and wetter, doesn't mean you should stay indoors! Seattle rarely gets that cold; in fact, it always looks worse out than it really is. Once you are outside and moving, you're fine. Fall hikes are awesome with the changing colors, and on the Washington Trails Association website, you can even search for hikes by where there are the best colors! I find I also really enjoy working in the garden, and there is plenty to do this time of year- harvest what's ready, pull out what's done, leave root crops to overwinter, save seeds, transplant brassicas, sow cover crop, build cloches, etc. If you need inspiration or new garden skills, consider taking an adult garden education class at Seattle Tilth.

*Rediscover your cute, functional fall clothes: Scarves! Hats! That really cozy down jacket! That awesome sweater! Fashion rain boots! Boots with skirts and leggings!

*Drink fall cocktails: Just as food changes by season, so should drinks. This summer I was mostly enjoying summer beers, Pimm's #1 Cups, gin and tonics, and mojitos with basil. But now I'm thinking of pumpkin ales, apple cider, bourbon, and warm drinks. There are lots of recipes online for general autumn mixed drinks here and here. Another idea- bloody mary's with my home-pickled carrots sticks and green beans, instead of a celery stick.

"October 10"

by Wendell Berry

Now constantly there is the sound,

quieter than rain,

of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright

gold, the sycamore limbs

bleach whiter.

Now the only flowers

are beeweed and aster, spray

of their white and lavender

over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds

loud-a landmark- now

that the life of summer falls

silent, and the nights grow.

Cleo

Today did not go at all how I planned.

My good friend T is in Seattle, visiting "home" for a few days before making the move from Atlanta to DC. She and I were going to go hiking near Granite Falls, and we stopped at my mom's house on the way.

We walked inside, and T asked, "Uh, is your dog okay?" I hadn't gotten a good look at Cleo, our family dog, and replied, "Yeah, she's just gotten sick recently." And she has. She's been in good health her whole 12 years of life, then suddenly about 3 weeks ago, she started coughing and getting droopy eyes, and went into a rapid decline with bronchial infections, ear problems, went blind, had a stroke, stopped walking, and got diagnosed with a thyroid condition.

"But... the blood?" T asked. I walked farther into the kitchen to see Cleo laying on her doggie bed, breathing heavily and foaming blood at the mouth. There was diarrhea and bloody saliva and vomit smeared all over the kitchen floor and cabinets. She was panting so I held up her water bowl which she drank ravenously, then promptly puked back up. It was so hard to see her like that, clearly suffering, disoriented, and having some kind of major organ failure.

We decided to put her down, with the vet's agreeing and saying it was likely that she had some kind of cancer. I hope she is in a better, pain-free place, and she will be so sorely missed in our family. We drove back to the house in the rain, bleary-eyed and empty. T was so sweet and supportive though it all, and helped clean when we got home. As she finished mopping the floor and getting the last of the blood spots, she got a phone call that one of her coworkers back east had died unexpectedly. It felt like a dark day. I couldn't help but listen to some Ani Difranco: "Sky is grey, sand is grey, the ocean is grey/And I feel right at home, in this stunning monochrome/Alone in my way."

We didn't have time for the hike, but walked around drizzly Discovery Park as a back-up plan. Conversation invariable centered on life, love, and loss... and how all those things don't always go how we plan. What would our 19 year-old selves think of our 29 year-old selves? Would we be disappointed? Inspired? Disillusioned? Feel like we were on-track?

My answer? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what we always thought we would do, where we would live, who we would marry. Dreams change and morph and disintegrate and are reborn all the time, and that's okay. You could say it's the decreased idealism that comes with age, but I think it's more like a wisdom that comes with understanding the unpredictable nature of life. And with the perspective that living with honesty, intention, love, and joy is how I measure greatness... not the same sense of epic grandeur that cradled my younger visions. There is a sense of loss of letting go of those dreams, but I have to remember that mostly I am losing an idea that existed in my mind, and not losing a physical thing. And now, more than ever, I want to interact with what is here and real, and not the idea of something off in the future. I want to get my hands dirty. I want to love earnestly. I want to regret something I did, not something I didn't do.

We kept talking through the glowy green forest and sitting on the grey sand grey sky beach. We made new dreams. We talked about bikes and her love of climbing and my love of gardens. We decided that a romantic relationship changing form 6 and 8 years later, respectively, is not the worst thing in the world. That maybe things started to end before the end, and there is new honesty that happens in breakups. That you can't fear doing something just because one day you might be disappointed or hurt. That that is a normal, healthy part of the The Way Things Work.

We loved Cleo dearly for the decade she was with our family. My heart still felt raw and my eyes stingy in the evening when I headed to an Organic Gardening class at Seattle Tilth. Tonight was the last class in a 4-week series, and we were talking about seed-saving. Students and instructors were sharing seeds, and took what seeds we wanted from brown paper bags- coarse, huge nasturtiums, tiny red broccali raab in their fingery pods, uniform smooth favas, black nigella coming out of spiny pods, dense round brown cilantro. Somehow it was the perfect end to this dark day, the reminder of our ability to save seeds, to cultivate abundance, to trust in the tiniest of things, to look forward to spring, to accept life's cycles, and to know that new growth is inevitable.

Bike Polo

Have you ever even heard of "bike polo", dear reader? I had not until my Australian friend started playing in Melbourne, and informed me that the game had started in Seattle. Officially Hardcourt Bike Polo, the game is just as it sounds- teams of 3 atop bicycles use mallets to hit a ball into end goals.

The main rules are that you can't touch your foot to the ground- if you do you have to "tap out" on the side of the court as a brief penalty- and you have to score a goal with the end of the mallet (not the side). You can't "chicken wing", putting your arm underneath another player's arms. Otherwise you just play! There are no assigned positions, though one player on the team is usually guarding their goal while "tripodding" on the mallet, though if they want to break away and go forward, another team member can drop back to defend the goal, or leave it unattended.
It's a fairly new game, and only the third year there have been World Championships. This year, the Worlds were hosted in Seattle! It was a 4-day event at Magnuson Park, and my friend from Australia was here competing. There were 64 teams, mostly from North America and Europe, plus a few from Australia and Asia. In a round-robin double elimination system, they started ranking the teams over a few days. It was a blazingly hot, sunny weekend for Seattle, and those player played a lot of games. I got sweaty just standing and watching.
Luckily the courts were by Lake Washington, so we could swim when we got overheated. Games are only 15 minutes, a perfect amount of time for me to get into it but not have to be too committed to watch the whole thing. Some family and friends came to watch, and it made for a great mix of spectating, swimming, and picnics.
The final game was an intense match between a Swiss team and a Vancouver team. They were both fast and amazing ball-handlers. The game was neck and neck, and even tied at the end. Then in overtime, a Canadian sped forward and made a perfect shot, ending the game and leaving their team undefeated. I had pride for a Cascadia team winning, but really it was just awesome to watch so many talented, dedicated players.

Summer Rumpot

It's a little late to be telling you about this, but while it's still barely summer I must mention it. From Germany (where it's called Rumtopf), this drink is made to capture the essence of summer fruit in liquor and be enjoyed at Christmas. Here's how it works: Get an earthenware or glass jar with a lid. Starting at the beginning of summer, put ripe, clean fruit (chopped) into the pot with half the fruit's weight in sugar. So if you have a pound of strawberries, put a half pound of sugar. Cover the fruit with an inch or two of dark rum and makes sure all the pieces are submerged. Store the jar in a dark place. As other fruit comes into season, add more fruit and sugar. I started mine in late July and so far have put blueberries, raspberries, peaches, and blackberries. Plums are next, then I will call it good. Then forget about it until December. Strain the fruit out and drink the fruity rum, savoring the dark of winter while remembering the abundance of summer.

Triathlon

Last Sunday I competed in my first triathlon! I've wanted to do the Steve Braun Memorial Triathlon on Orcas Island ever since I was living there in 2008. I was always busy on Labor Day weekend when it was held, but this year I knew I would be around since my friend from Australia would be here visiting. I was home from Europe for just over a month by the time the triathlon was held, and I figured that wasn't much time to train for all 3 events. Then it hit me: biking was my weakest event, and my Australian friend was an awesome cyclist! So we decided to enter as a team, with me doing the swim, then him biking, then me running at the end. We called ourselves "Team Rocket" and sewed matching logos onto our clothes.

It couldn't have been a nicer day for the race. It was held at Cascade Lake at Moran State Park, and was surprisingly warm and sunny for September. It was my first open-water swimming event, and actually a little harder than I thought it would be. As I swam out into the cool lake with the other participants, I had to keep lifting my head up to make sure I was swimming toward the buoy. It felt like I was going nowhere fast, but then I finally crawled out of the water to tag Scott who was in the transition area. It turns out I swam the .4 miles in 11 minutes and 40 seconds, putting me in about the top third of the racers, so I was pretty happy about that.
Scott took off on his bike, a beautiful road bike that he built himself right before coming to the U.S. I changed clothes, stretched, and chatted with a friend, figuring I had plenty of time before I would start running. Then suddenly, there was Scott, coming back! My first thought was, 'We're in first place! I have to run now!' and I jumped up. Then it occurred to me that he was not riding, but walking his bike. Turns out he had gotten a flat tire just miles into the course, and had no way to fix it nor a spare tube. He had hitch-hiked back to the lake. It was such bad luck! But I still wanted to run, so I did, enjoying the sunny day and the race atmosphere as I crossed the finish line. It's a bummer that we don't have an actually overall time, but we still had fun and neither of us put too much pressure on ourselves. It was a good introduction to triathlons, and hopefully next year I will do a whole one by myself, and with no flats!

Wedding Weekend

This past weekend, my dear friend Serena got married at the Kiana Lodge in Suquamish, Washington. Congratulations Mark and Serena! It had a beautiful, quintessential Pacific Northwest feel right on the Puget Sound on the Kitsap Penninsula.
My good friend Anya, who was also a bridesmaid, flew in from Chicago. It was so good to see her! I've been telling her for the last 6 years that I'm going to make it out to Chicago for a visit, but so far that's yet to happen. So I'm glad she had a reason to come out this way.

I'm so happy I was in the country for this wedding and able to be a part of the wedding party. Serena was an incredibly mellow and graceful bride, who made me feel relaxed all weekend with her composure. She also looked amazing. Her gown was custom-made, and included lace from her mother's wedding dress, such a unique and meaningful feature. One of my favorite parts about the experience was getting to know the other bridesmaids, all women who are important in the bride's life. This is such an powerful part of weddings- to bond with new people when you know you share a love for the couple and hope for their upcoming life together. And the bridesmaids were just fun, awesome ladies who I had a blast hanging out with. We did crafts together, made breakfast, and helped each other get ready.

This might be one of the most girly things I've said for a long time, but I was really excited that my hair is finally long enough to put in an updo. I haven't been able to an updo for over 6 years! It was really short (and I loved it!) for about 4 years, but the last couple years have been that unflattering, flippy, grow-out phase. Anya did a really great job of pinning up these curls.
I really enjoyed the whole wedding, but what stood out to me was the honest and personal ceremony, the grounded, spirited energy of the female officiant, the gorgeous but not overly-manicured natural setting, the seasonal salmon and veggie dinner, the family-made DVD of photos of the couple, the hilarious toast by the best man, the old black-and-white wedding portraits of their parents and grandparents (who are still married!), the self-operated photo booth, the dancing, the funny cake topper, and the chance to continue the party after the reception.

I'm so happy for you Mark and Serena, and I wish you a long, happy, joyful life together!

Ross Lake

I got back to Seattle from Europe and a few days later headed up to Ross Lake in the North Cascades, off Highway 20. I spent a lovely few days with my friends K and A and their extended family. There are a couple of ways to reach this remote resort, and the way I opted for involves parking at a trailhead and hiking down about a mile to the lake's edge. From there you use a service phone to call the resort across the way so they can send a boat to pick you up. The resort is at the south end of the lake, a row of floating cabins and docks.
The first couple nights, instead of staying at the resort, K, A, and I got a boat ride up-lake to a campsite. The Ross Lake National Recreation Area borders the North Cascades National Park, and there are many designated campsites right on the water, along with trails around the lake and trailheads for the surrounding mountains.

It's from this area that you reach the Desolation Peak trailhead, to get to the fire lookout where Jack Kerouac stayed in the summer of 1956 and inspired his book Desolation Angels. There are many other amazing though less famous hikes, but we opted for staying close to the lake for now, doing a little trail running, light hiking, swimming, and mostly just hanging out. Because we could transport things by boat (thanks to K's sweet father!) we didn't have to pack light. The second day, as we hiked in to our next campsite and K's dad dropped off the gear, two other boats with K's sister and friends showed up on our campsite dock. It was an instant dock party in the middle of this wild lake. Surreal!
On the third day we hiked the 5 miles back to the resort and stayed my last night in a cabin. There were lots of family and friends there so we could be social or enjoy quiet time. We read, swam, sunbathed, cooked, sipped adult beverages, fished, danced, and played games. Oh, and ate a lot of really good food. Thanks to their family for including me on this long-standing family vacation!

Rome and Around

I was reluctant to leave the comfort, quiet, and good food of the Tuscan farm, but it was time to keep heading south. Although I would rather be in the countryside than a huge city, I was excited for all the history in Rome. I saw the highlights, such as...

the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel (such a long wait to get inside! the Sistine Chapel is surprisingly small but astoundingly intricate and beautiful),

the Pantheon,
Trevi fountain,
the Roman Forum,
and the Colosseum.
Rome is crazy because so much is, well, Roman. Everything is like 2,000 years old. That's just normal. I could have easily spent more time there, as there is so much to see, but for now I'm satisfied. I saw the main sights, ate plenty of gelato, made friends, and still had time to spend the weekend with Italian family. What, I didn't mention visiting Italian family??!! That's the main reason I've always wanted to go to Italy!

I knew I had Italian family still in the motherland on my dad's dad's side of the family. I got some random names and addresses from a great-aunt on my dad's side, and contacted them via snail mail. I wrote in English, saying how we were related, and mentioned I didn't speak Italian but I spoke Spanish. Shortly after, I received and email in Spanish from a cousin, saying they were happy to get my letter and I should come visit when I was in the area!

My great-grandfather Giuseppe was from a city called Ferentino, about 45 minutes south of Rome by train. I headed down and was met at the train station by my cousin Ugo. He was a middle-aged single man who was really nice, and luckily spoke great Spanish. He had studied the language on his own for years, then lived in the Dominican Republic for a year working for a non-profit.

He took me to his house where he lived with his father, a widower in his 80's with bright eyes and a quick smile. We were able to greet each other, but then he continued speaking in rapid Italian, and I shrugged and shook my head. "Capito?" he asked me. "No!" I replied, and we both laughed. He shrugged back, smiling, and I asked him to show me the garden. This old farmhouse was just outside Ferentino on a fairly large property, and there were a bunch of olive trees and grape vines. I found out that they grew all their own olives for a year's supply of olive oil, and made their own wine. There were a few other fruit trees, such as apricot and fig. They also had a huge veggie garden with tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, pole beans, lettuce, zucchini, cucumber, and herbs. Needless to say, I was in old-world local food heaven.

Besides hanging out at the house, Ugo was a great tour guide who showed me around the area. This part of the state of Lazio is fairly hilly, with various walled cities perched defensively on the hilltops. These cities, like Ferentino, pre-date the Romans, and there are pretty views from the top. He also took me to an 800 year-old monastery nestled dramatically on a hillside.

I met more cousins- Ugo's sister Maria Teresa and her teenage kids, who live in Ferentino. We would eat every lunch and dinner with them, either going to their house, or them coming to the farmhouse. Maria Teresa would usually bring her mother-in-law, and sometimes other relatives of her husbands. It was standard that meals were large, yet informal family affairs every time. They made me feel welcome, but didn't fuss over me or seem that surprised by a random American relative at the table, and my presence would get comfortably swallowed up in the familial atmosphere. I literally could not have been any happier or more grateful and finding these relatives and being embraced so easily as family.

Under My Own Tuscan Sun

After Firenze, I went about 50 minutes east by train to my next WWOOF farm. This one was a fruit farm, producing raspberries, blueberries, black and red currant, apricots, plums, and figs, and processing them into juices and jams. It is an agroturismo that alternates hosting guests and volunteers. It is owned and operated by an Italian couple in their early 50's who have been living on that property for over 25 years. The WWOOFers stayed in the guest house with our own bedrooms and bathroom which was really nice. There were 2 other volunteers around my age- a woman from Quebec and one from Florida.
Like the farm in Piedmont, I had an absolutely wonderful time here too. This one was a bit more mellow though. One the first farm there were more volunteers, plus a 4 year-old boy, and 5 Brazilian cousins that came to visit, so it was very lively, and we worked more (with a mid-day siesta). But here the days were quieter and more meditative. We did a lot of raspberry weeding and helping in the laboratory where the fruit is processed. We canned juices and helped put labels on jars and fill orders.
We also harvested currants, which I know I've tried in the past but had never eaten much of. They mostly grow red currant, but some black and white currant as well. The black currant makes a really good juice that we would often have at breakfast along with homemade bread and lots of fruit spreads.
Sometimes we worked after lunch, but more often than not they gave us the afternoon off. They said it was too hot to work and we should just relax. This gave plenty of time for reading, sunbathing, and hiking around the area.

As Americans, we think of 'Tuscany' as one region, but what I quickly learned here is that there are many different regions within Tuscany. This region was Mugello, a hilly area that produces a lot of olive oil and wine. There were trails through the hills right from the property, so I would often go jogging or hiking in the later afternoon after it cooled off a bit.
Besides work and hiking, I also did, of course, a lot of eating. Both the farmers were great cooks, and aside from the simple continental breakfast, lunch and dinner were thoughtful, multi-course affairs. There was usually pasta, but as just one course, not the entree. It was sometimes fresh, sometimes dried, ranging from spaghetti to a regional potato-filled tortellini. There was usually always bread and local cheese which you could help yourself to at any point during the meal. At the end we usually ate salad, assembled to our individual liking with garden cucumbers, greens (often intense radicchio), tomatoes, basil, red onion, and olive oil and vinegar from just a few kilometers away. Some examples of other dishes we ate are baby octopus with tomato and onion; mini clams in butter, lemon, and parsley; rabbit stewed in rosemary; blanched green beans doused with olive oil; pasta with a capers, goat cheese, tomato, and basil sauce; spicy seafood rice; bell pepper caponata; grilled polenta squares; melted tomino per cuoche cheese; roasted chicken; lamb and potatoes; and this savory zucchini ricotta tart. What I was struck by over and over was how simple the food was, but how incredibly good. This tart for instance, was just a simple pastry crust with sauteed garden zucchini, onions, and local ricotta, but it was so insanely good.

We had one dish that was not simple at all, and was probably my favorite of my entire trip. It was bacala, which is cod in Italian, and the name of the dish was something like Stoccafisso alla Vicentina. You get a Norwegian wind-dried cod from Venice, which is supposedly the only city in Italy that imports it. Then you soak it in water for 2 days to rehydrate it, changing the water several times a day. Then you stuff it with butter, Parmesan, parsley, and a little salt and pepper and tie it closed. Then you brown each side in a garlic butter-oil, and add a bunch of milk and let it all simmer for 2 hours. It sounds weird, cooking fish in milk, but the result was something incredible unique and delicious. Served over polenta it was one of the most stop-you-in-your-tracks flavors I experienced... one of those meals where you spend the first half of all your bites in disbelief over how amazing it is.

One thing that stands out for me about this part of Tuscany was how many pollinators there were ALL the time. I've never been anywhere in the world that was so alive with bees, butterflies, moths, and insects. You could look out to any bush at any time and see dozens of winged creatures buzzing about. It felt abundant and vital.
The other thing that I really treasure about this farm was that it was the place where I learned the most Italian. Both the farmers spoke French as a second language, but virtually no English. My Spanish was mostly understandable to them, so in the beginning I spoke in Spanish and they answered in Italian. As I picked up more and more words (you learn quick when you have to!) I could speak a very rudimentary Italian with the gaps filled in in Spanish. This worked well for most of the days activities, though occasionally the conversations got a little too complicated for my Italian level, especially around the dinner table. Then the farmers would say it in French to the French Canadian woman, and she would translate for me into English, and I would confirm my understanding in Spanish. So four languages around the table was not uncommon! It was so nice to have this time to wade through language, and to work hard to get little ideas across. We would often break out the huge Italian-English dictionary at the end of the night, remembering words we wanted to look up during the day, and sharing an earnestness and joy to come to an understanding.