Where to from Here? (Jan. 2012)

New Year’s Day, and I’m sitting here wondering what words of wisdom to impart. What could I possibly say that has meaning and that hasn’t been said a thousand times before? I certainly have no interest in writing about resolutions or goals, or even getting organized.

And yet, January 1st offers us a symbolic opportunity to examine our lives, our desires, our direction, offers us a symbolic moment in which to plot a different course. Who do we want to be and where do we want to go? What really matters – to us, to the world – and what are we willing to do to align our lives with that answer?

I’ve been thinking about these questions a lot lately, mostly within the context of how to make the most positive difference in the world, especially in relationship to the land. What matters most? To me, the answer always comes back to love – of my people, my animals, and my piece of earth. (Note: I do not use “my” in a possessive sense here, but in a relational one.) My question has been: staying true to my nature – i.e., using my skills and talents within the scope of my interests, a criteria that I believe is necessary in order for any of my actions to be sustainable – what actions can I take that are founded in love and increase the well-being of those entities I treasure – be they two-legged, four-legged, winged, rooted, or flowing? What changes can I make that will make this world a bit more lovely and whole?

My answer keeps coming back to “I don’t know.” I know what I want. I want my property to be self-sustaining and off the grid. I want to have my loved ones gathered near so I never need to worry about being so far away from them if (when?) the electricity and communication lines go down and gas becomes either unavailable or too exorbitant for me to drive to see them. In my dreams, we all live within walking or biking distance, and between us we grow enough food and have enough clean running water to provide for us all. But this is a pipe dream, if only because there is no way all my loved ones would come live here. And I have neither the know-how nor the oomph to make my property self-sustaining. (Although I welcome help, if anyone out there wants to pitch in!)

And so I come back to reality, wondering what I can do. I can tend my chickens and share their eggs. I can plant a vegetable garden and share the produce. I can gather friends around delicious meals and build connections. I can remember to say “I love you” in both words and deeds every day. I can continue to learn, and share what I learn with others. And yeah, I can help you get organized so you can share your gifts more readily.

But is this enough?

I guess the other thing I can do is to continue listening for guidance.

May we all be blessed with wise guidance and the courage to go where we’re led.


Quotes of the Month

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.
– John O’Donohue

You see the earth as a bright blue and white Christmas tree ornament in the black sky. It’s so small and so fragile – you realize that on that small spot is everything that means anything to you, all of history and art and death and birth and love.
– Russell Schweikart

If you follow your own thoughts, if you follow your own morals, if you choose to protect those you love most, and to protect your landbase (presuming that you love your landbase, but if you do not then you can choose something else), if you choose your own battlefields, what battles do you choose? What do you do? How do you act? Who are you?
– Derrick Jensen

A humble life dedicated to a great purpose, becomes great.
– Paul Brunton



Recipe of the Month

It’s Dungeness Crab season! Here are the best crab cakes I’ve ever tasted.

Sweet Potato Crab Cakes with Citronet

Sauté one sliced leek and one small red bell pepper in butter until soft but still brightly colored.

Boil one garnet yam (approximately ¼ pound) until soft. Remove skin.

Mash the yam with:
1 egg
Sautéed leek and red bell pepper
1 teaspoon fresh minced oregano
1 teaspoon fresh minced parsley
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
½ pound fresh crab meat
2/3 cup panko

Form into cakes. Coat each cake with a bit more panko, then sear in hot oil until deep golden brown.

Citronet

Place in a small pot and bring to a boil:
5 ounces Martinelli’s apple juice
1 lemon (zest and juice)
1 or 2 limes (zest and juice)
¼ cup sugar
pinch of salt

Once boiling, whisk in a slurry of ½ Tablespoon corn starch and 1/8 cup cold water. Allow to simmer for 30 seconds, then add in 1/3 cup of diced roasted red peppers.

Remove from heat and use as a bed on which to serve the crab cakes.

Attention, please... (September 2011)

The signs have been revealing themselves for a week now. A subtle change in light, cool mornings, spider webs sparkling with dew. “Fall’s here,” people are saying, “can you feel it?” This morning I turned on the hot water faucet to undeniable evidence: the water was cold coming out of the tap.

We know the seasons are changing because we notice the little details. And isn’t that what makes life so delightful, all those details? Certainly they’re what bring my life joy. Listening to the hens cackle all morning, inhaling the perfume of pennyroyal as I walk past the pastures, eating a sun-warmed blackberry straight off the cane, noticing the barber-pole swirls of bark climbing a redwood, petting a purring cat (or three)…

A couple of weeks ago, on a quiet mid-morning, grey with coastal overcast, I was hanging my laundry on the line in full faith that the fog would burn off to reveal yet another blue summer day. The cats were nearby, as they always are when I hang laundry. Zachary was licking Jules’ forehead, a tender grooming that inevitably leads into kitty wrassling, while Ochosi watched and Henry Hunter wondered how he could get in on the action. The chickens were roaming, scratching and pecking and clucking – those who weren’t in a nest getting ready to lay an egg – and some of them gathered around my feet, waiting to have their rears scratched, their tail feathers ruffled. As I pinned my damp clothes to the line, I realized that I was completely, peacefully happy, that it is on mornings like this when I’m hanging clothes out to dry that I am most content. To be engaged in such a simple task, surrounded by happy critters, with each sense alive to beauty: colorful clothes against a backdrop of pastoral river valley and wooded hills; birds singing; chickens and cats carrying on; a subtle scent of ozone and cut grass; soft perfect-temperature air… these are my perfect moments.

Principle #8 is to Slow Down and Pay Attention. I call it the Zen practice of being organized. As you move through September, notice the details that make you smile, and give them a quiet, appreciative nod. Your life will be richer for it.

Tip of the Month

Krishnamurti wrote: “When you concentrate on a subject, on a talk, on a conversation, consciously or unconsciously you build a wall of resistance against the intrusion of other thoughts, and so your mind is not wholly there; it is only partially there, however much attention you pay, because part of your mind is resisting any intrusion, any deviation or distraction… If you listen both to the sound of the bell and to the silence between its strokes, the whole of that listening is attention. Similarly, when someone is speaking, attention is the giving of your mind not only to the words but also to the silence between the words. … [B]e all the time aware so that your mind is all the time attentive without being caught in the process of exclusion. … If your mind has space, then in that space there is silence – and from that silence everything else comes, for then you can listen, you can pay attention without resistance. That is why it is very important to have space in the mind. If the mind is not overcrowded, not ceaselessly occupied, then it can listen to that dog barking, to the sound of a train crossing the distant bridge, and also be
fully aware of what is being said by the person talking here. Then the mind is a living thing.”

Years ago, when I taught fourth grade, I would have my students close their eyes and just listen for a few minutes, noticing what sounds they heard. It was always surprising to realize how many sounds we tuned out. As an exercise in building awareness and attention to detail, try it. Close your eyes and listen. That’s all – just notice. What do you hear?

Quotes of the Month

One instant of total awareness is one instant of perfect freedom and enlightenment. – Manjushri

Do not seek with cold eyes to find blemishes, or the roses will turn to thorns as you gaze. – Sabisistari

If you pay attention at every moment, you form a new relationship to time. In some magical way, by slowing down, you become more efficient, productive, and energetic, focusing without distraction directly on the task in front of you. Not only do you become immersed in the moment, you become that moment. – Michael Ray

Attention enables us to step back from our waking dream, while at the same time bringing us closer to a true encounter with our life. It serves to clear out all that we add to this bare moment, and lets us see it as it is. – Philip Martin



Recipe of the Month

Claire’s Stuffed Zucchini

Quarter two large (not gargantuan monsters, just decent-sized) zukes. Place them face down in a 9 x 13 Pyrex with a bit of water covering the bottom. Cover the top with foil and bake until the zucchini “meat” is tender. Remove and allow to cool enough to be handled without scalding your fingers.

While the zukes are baking, sauté
1 diced onion (medium, yellow or white)

When the onions are translucent, add
8 to 10 sliced mushrooms
3 to 4 chopped garlic cloves (good sized; if the cloves are puny, use 8 to 10 of them)

Once the mushrooms have cooked, remove from heat and stir in
1 teaspoon to 1 Tablespoon of yellow curry powder (to taste)
1 to 2 teaspoons of dry thyme
2 to 3 Tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce

Use a spoon to remove the zucchini “meat” from its shell, and add the “meat” into the onions/mushrooms/garlic. (Leave the shells, face up like little empty rowboats, in the Pyrex and remove the extra water.) Use the spoon to mash the zucchini so that it doesn’t have any lumps and is blended in with the onions, etc.

You will have extra liquid in the mixture at this point, thanks to the zukes. (Note: this is not the liquid you removed from the Pyrex. That was to be discarded, or reserved for a veggie broth, or something.) Add enough bread crumbs (I use seasoned) to sop up the liquid, making the veggies a solid – but not dry – consistency.

Mix in about 1 cup of grated sharp cheddar cheese.

Spoon the mixture back into the zucchini shells (they’ll be heaping once filled).

Bake, uncovered, at 350 until nicely browned, about 20 to 30 minutes.

… and the livin’ is easy (July 2011)

The days stretch long, work has shrunk to a trickle, and I’m enjoying every moment of every day, even more so when the sun deigns to shine upon our coastal clime. It is okay, I have decided, to play. And to paraphrase Cat Steven’s, “oh Lord, how she plays and plays, for that happy day, for that happy day.”

Summer in Humboldt is bursting with activities. Within the past two weeks, I have paddled kayaks in the bay, laughed myself silly at not one but two showings of Dell Arte’s “Mary Jane: The Musical,” picnicked atop a craggy rock overlooking wooded valleys and distant mountains, explored a 30-mile-long back road through undeveloped woodlands and fields, attended a Crabs double-header, and danced at the free Thursday night concerts on the boardwalk. This coming weekend I join friends for a showing of the San Francisco Mime Troupe’s annual free play in the park down in Berkeley. (For those of you who don’t know, they do not perform mime; they are one of the country’s leading political theater groups). Later this summer I’m joining another friend for a few days at her cabin in Kirkwood. And I’ve got tickets to see Willie Nelson in early September. (Yay!)

I’ve been playing at home, too. The chickens, of course, provide endless amusement, as do the cats. (Yes, I’m easily amused.) The garden offers flowers for arranging and vegetables with which to devise tasty dishes. The library keeps me supplied with mind candy (I’m still on a Terry Pratchett run), and my friends gracefully and repeatedly whoop me at Scrabble. Even hanging laundry out to dry provides delight, as does walking 2.5 miles most evenings as the light moves through its golden stage into dusk and the skunks skip at a safe distance through nearby pastures.

And then there are the things I’d still like to do: camp along the Mattole, kayak at Big Lagoon, catch a few more plays, and of course see the new Harry Potter movie when it arrives. Summer is so brief; already the days are shortening, although I am practicing fervent denial of this fact. And life is short. So I encourage you to play, too, whatever play looks like to you. And if you’d like company, give me a call. I may just be free to come along.


Tip of the Month

Summer vacation often means travel. I am not going to tell you how to organize for travel (although I can talk you through how to organize your car if you’d like). Rather, I’d like to share the most important lesson I ever learned about traveling: let go of expectation. Every single time, no exceptions, that I’ve gone into an experience with expectations, I’ve been disappointed. When I’ve been able to go in with an open mind, however -- when I’ve been able to simply experience a situation or person or place as it is -- I’ve enjoyed the experience. The best travel tip I can offer is to go with the flow and accept things as they are, see the beauty and joy and blessings in what is instead of what we’d hoped would be.


Quotes of the Month

As life becomes harder and more threatening, it also becomes richer, because the fewer expectations we have, the more good things of life become unexpected gifts that we accept with gratitude. -- Etty Hillesum

Why fill the heart with hopes? Leave it empty for God. -- Robert Mertens

Expect nothing. Live frugally on surprise. -- Alice Walker

It is simple. We are where we should be, doing what we should be doing. Otherwise we would be somewhere else, doing something else. -- Richard Stine

Mistakes are the portals of discovery. -- James Joyce

For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is to let it rain. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



Recipe of the Month

Peach Galette

Preheat oven to 375

Prepare a crust using:
1 cup flour
½ cup cold butter
1 Tablespoon sugar
about 5 Tablespoons of cold water or milk
(Optional – a small sprinkling of cinnamon)

Roll out and place on a cookie sheet.

In the center of the rolled crust, artfully arrange peach slices in concentric circles, leaving about 3 inches of the crust uncovered. You can sprinkle the peaches with a bit of sugar, or not, depending on the sweetness of the peaches and your preference. I find this comes out fine without any sugar.

Fold the crust on top of the peaches, leaving the center fruit uncovered.

Bake until a rich golden brown, probably about 45 minutes.

Giving Thanks

Every Thanksgiving before sitting down to eat, my friends and I gather in a circle, hold hands, and say what we’re grateful for in that moment. I know, it’s kinda New Age dorky, but I like the ritual. I also give thanks before my daily meals – thanking “everybody and everything that has given of its life energy so that I may have this abundance before me”* – and at night after I’ve nestled under the covers. And, of course, I do my best to express my gratitude throughout the day when people are helpful and kind.

We appreciate being appreciated. And we feel better about ourselves when we are appreciative. Conveying our gratitude makes the world a better place. It is one aspect of Tikkun Olam (Repair of the World).

Gratitude works wonders on many levels. Not only does it make us feel better about ourselves, it helps move us out of scarcity thinking (the belief that there isn’t enough, which can lead to cluttering out lives with objects “just in case”). It can shift us from feeling whoa-is-me funky to a sense of, if not joy, at least contentment. It can also help to create the life we want. I’m not sure how this works, whether it’s because of a magnetic energy responding to the increased energy of gratitude (like finding like), or because we are more likely to see and respond to that which we are focused on, or some other reason. But years ago I heard someone rephrase the Serenity Prayer from “Grant me the Serenity” to “Thank you for the Serenity,” and I realized how right this change was. I didn’t need to ask for serenity, it was already in me. I only had to recognize it, which I could do through gratitude.

Before embarking on my journey in search of home, I wrote to a friend about what I was looking for, what I wanted my life to look like. The description began with “I want.” Once I landed in Humboldt County, I looked at that list and remembered the Serenity Prayer lesson. I rewrote it from a place of gratitude, understanding that all these things already existed, I just may not have caught up with them yet. This Thank You vision is posted on my fridge where I read it most days. And you know what? Just about everything on that list is an active part of my life these days. I know I will meet up with the rest in due time. Here is my vision:

• Thank you for my perfect country cottage with organic flowers, herbs, veggies, and fruit trees, chickens, and cats.
• Thank you for a home in which to cook and arrange flowers.
• Thank you for the ability to see stars at night and to hear running water.
• Thank you for green valleys surrounded by trees.
• Thank you for community and family, for wonderful neighbors and friends and joyous gatherings with them.
• Thank you for the ability to live my life in synch with the earth and her seasons in a life-nurturing way.
• Thank you for the opportunity to do Tikkun Olam.
• Thank you for daily walks outdoors and senses with which to delight in Creation’s beauty.
• Thank you for dancing and laughter and love making, for passion and play.
• Thank you for a husband who is conscious, affectionate, honest, dependable, kind, prosperous, grounded, joyous, monogamous, healthy, physically attractive, playful, communicative, wise, gentle and strong, who sees me truly, finds me beautiful and loves me deeply, and is committed to spending his life with me.
• Thank you for a life rooted in love and faith, knowing we’re all one and there’s nothing to fear on this path of compassion, joy, and kindness.
• Thank you.


How do you practice gratitude, and what are you grateful for?


Tip of the Month
This month, make a practice of saying “Thank you” to someone every day. If you’d like, keep a list of whom you thanked and why.

Quotes of the Month
“Take full account of the excellencies which you possess, and in gratitude remember how you would hanker after them, if you had them not.” Marcus Aurelius

"Appreciation can make a day, even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary." Margaret Cousins

“Instead of looking for love, give it; constantly renew it in yourself and you will always feel its presence within you. It will always be there smiling at you, gazing on you kindly.” Omraam Mikhael Aivanhov












Recipe of the Month
Pumpkin-Cranberry-Pecan Bread
Combine:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar (or 1/3 cup honey)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon Cinnamon
½ teaspoon nutmeg
¼ teaspoon cloves

Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and add:
1 egg
1/2 cup oil (or ½ cup melted butter)
1 cup puréed pumpkin

Mix quickly to combine wet and dry ingredients.

Fold in:
1 cup chopped cranberries
¼ cup raisins
¼ cup chopped pecans

Pour into bread pan or muffin tins.

Bake at 350° for about an hour. (I use the top-is-cracked-and-browned cue to determine doneness. Inserting a toothpick and having it come out clean works, too.)


*The grace continues: “May I use this energy to do good, and may we all be blessed. So mote it be.”

Making Room for the Bounty of Harvest

I’m watching some of my friends undertake major purges right now. The circumstances inspiring their decision to finally dig themselves out from under years and years of accumulated detritus are difficult, but their response is admirable.

One friend recently found himself no longer in relationship with a woman he loves, partly because of his hoarding tendencies and having not dealt with his mail for the past two years. He is finally letting me help him with his backlog of paper, and has moved a large pile of boxes that were hiding a couch and table I never knew were there.

The other friend’s housemate died suddenly, and she discovered just how serious a hoarder the housemate actually was. The process of hiring a dumpster, enlisting her friends’ help, and clearing out the deceased’s belongings so that the room could be rented shed light on her own self-defeating relationship with material objects. She has continued the momentum, begun because of her housemate’s passing, into her own space, clearing out the broken and unwanted items, making room for the life she does want. Every time I see another posting by her on Freecycle, I give a silent cheer: Way to go, girl!

October is a strange, transitional time of year. On the one hand, the farmers market is brimming with a regal abundance and variety of produce. On the other hand, autumn is in the air, auguring the dead of winter. Leaves are turning and dropping, nights are getting colder. I have a Native American friend who says October is the time of loss and that it often intensifies as we near Halloween when, some people believe, the veil between the worlds is at its sheerest.

Culturally, we shun loss, we call it bad and grieve it. But loss and death are an intrinsic part of life’s cycle. The Eleusyinian Mysteries use the story of Persephone – who was abducted by Hades to be his queen and who, because she ate a few pomegranate seeds, must spend part of each year in the Underworld – and the symbolism of grain, which is planted (buried) only to be reborn again each spring – as reminders of life’s death-and-rebirth cycle.

We mourn our losses. But we can also embrace them as an opportunity to make room for change, to create space in our hearts and lives for new blessings and joys. Nothing is permanent; the only constant is change. The more gracefully we learn to recognize that change is as natural as the waxing and waning of the harvest moon, the better off we’ll be. And the more we let go of, the more room we’ll have for something wonderful and new to appear.


Blessings!

Claire

Tip of the Month

What really matters to you? And what stands between you and what matters most? Let it go. Beliefs, commitments, objects – if it’s holding you back from what you hold most dear, out it goes. No ifs, ands, or buts – out.

Just remember, you don’t have to do it all at once. Sometimes renting a dumpster is in order. But “slow and steady” can be equally effective. If the job feels too big, do just a little piece each day. Every tiny change you make takes you toward the larger goal of an authentic, meaningful life.



Quotes of the Month

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

from Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, compiled by Paul Reps


Barn’s burnt down –
Now
I can see the moon
-- Masahide

May 2010 Newsletter

April showers bring May flowers...

I have a confession to make. I love having a garden. I love being able to pick flowers and arrange them in vases around my house. I love being able to pick herbs and veggies and fruit and cook them up right then and there. I love growing enough food to be able to share with people who are hungry by donating to my local food bank. But I really don't enjoy gardening.

Okay, I like some of it. I like planting seeds in starter pots and watching them grow. I enjoy planting the starts into well-prepared soil. I certainly love the smell of the earth. It's just all that work -- the hoeing and weeding and picking of slugs -- that I find painful and not at all fun.

Where I live, May means lots of work in the garden. The rains have finally let up enough that the clay soil is dry enough to work, but they've also nourished vigorous growth of wild radish, sheep's sorrel, plantain, and thistle. All of which is fine out in the pasture, but is unwanted competition for my cultivated plants (flowers and veggies) in the garden. And so the mowing and weeding and slug picking begins...

But guess what? Basic organizing principles apply to the garden, too! Keep It Simple, Sweetie reminds me to tackle only small areas at a time, rather than try to weed the entire garden in one day. Create (and use) Habits reminds me to weave the watering and slug patrol into my daily chores. Adopt an Attitude of Gratitude helps me to see (and appreciate) the garden I have instead of the work that still faces me. And Ask for Help encourages me to call my gardener, who takes care of the mowing and weed-whacking (and some of the weeding) for me.

Whether you're organizing your garden or your home, the basic principles serve as a helpful guide. If you need a reminder of the principles (and want to see what some other organizers have come up with), read my article "Organizing by the Numbers" on my website. http://www.clairejosefine.com/art.htm#organizing%20by%20the%20numbers And, as always, let me know if I can be of any help.

Happy spring!



Tip of the Month

Get ready for your garden by discarding old seeds, sharpening and cleaning your tools, and recycling broken and excess pots. Then organize: put your hand tools together into a bucket or caddy and hang your larger tools (shovels, rakes, etc.) on the wall of your gardening shed or garage.

This year, I've organized my seeds in order of when I'm planting them, so that the ones due to be planted next are on top of the bundle. You can also organize them by type -- flowers, herbs, veggies -- or alphabetically, or by shade vs. sun. However you think of them and want to access them is how you should organize them.

Quote of the Month

Our life is shorter than flowers
Then shall we mourn?
No, we shall dance
Plant gardens
Dress in colors
And teach our children
To make the world more beautiful
Because our life is shorter than flowers.
— Toltec fragment

June 2010 Newsletter

Simplicity


The simple life: warm bread baking in the oven, laundry drying on the line, veggies fresh from the garden, chickens contentedly exploring their yard, finches and grossbeaks at the bird feeder, cut flowers placed in a vase by the bed, cats curled up in the sunshine.

Idyllic, yes? And yet the simple life is not necessarily easy, if by easy we mean requiring a minimum of work. Simple means both easy, effortless, and natural, unadorned. When we daydream of "the simple life," I think we are longing for a life stripped down of pretension and complication, a life of connection and meaning. But because simple also means effortless, we don't consider how much work is required to "live simply." Unless we have servants (at which point the work is deferred to someone else, but it hasn't gone away), we need to make the bread dough that's baking, hang and fold the laundry (which smells delicious, as good as that baking bread!), tend the garden and the chickens and the cats, cook meals from scratch, and so on.

Of course, there's the saying that "Work is love made visible." Some of us feel deep satisfaction and pleasure in doing the work of creating and tending. There's a connection to Source that comes with these labors, if we can remember to be aware of it.

My own challenge comes with this month's tip: to make time for fun. I get so caught up in the daily chores of my simple life that I forget I'm choosing them, I forget that connection to Source and to enjoy my life. And so my response to the tip is two-fold: one, to recall the joy in the work of simplicity and two, to go play!

Anyone want to join me for a play date on the Trinity with Redwoods and Rivers Rafting?

Happy June!



Tip of the Month

As summer approaches, simplify your time commitments so that you have time for fun, whether that’ s reading a novel, BBQing with the neighbors, or swimming in the river. Declutter your time the same way you would a room, by looking at each activity and asking: Does this make me smile, or is it useful (supporting my goals)? If not, let it go.

Quote of the Month

Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that’s creativity.
– Charles Mingus

July 2010 Newsletter

Liberty

My sister-in-law recently told me that she’d read an article in the French Elle about feminists who’ve gone back to the land, and that it made her think of me. Did I know that I was avant-garde? she asked. No, I replied, I just thought I was an oddball trying to live life my way, and grateful that I live in a time and place where that’s possible.

We are blessed to live in a relatively free society. While I won’t argue that we are a long way from what we could be, we are (for the most part) free to be ourselves, to pursue our unique versions of happiness.

As an organizer, my aim is to help others be the best version of themselves. What’s organizing have to do with freedom? Bear with me here. I know that the “free spirit” sort tends to think of organizing as a restrictive straight-jacket, a set of rigid rules, too much oppressive order. I encourage them to instead see organization as a life jacket, a tool that supports us as we navigate our way down life’s river. After all, the better organized we are, the more easily we can share our gifts, be it teaching children, feeding the hungry, creating beauty, defending the downtrodden, tending a garden, or otherwise making the world a bit more lovely and whole.

And, just as there are many talents to share, there is more than one way to organize. What works for one person might not work for another. Along those lines, I’m teaching a new class in August. Here’s the blurb:

Not everyone thinks alike. Some people are great at making lists and plodding methodically forward in a straight line toward their goal. Others find their mind full of ideas and their energy drawn in a number of directions at once. If you tend to be better at brainstorming than getting things done, “Playful Planning for the Creative Thinker” is for you. Learn creative techniques for turning those great ideas into a plan of action.


------------------------------

Speaking of taking ideas and making them happen… Last month I wrote about needing to play more. I’m pleased to report that I spent a peaceful day under blue skies and redwoods along the Eel River (at Women’s Federation Grove), reading a novel while my friend taught the puppies to swim. And in a few days we will be enjoying a combination camping and river-rafting excursion.

What fun do you have planned?




Tip of the Month

Free yourself from expectation. “The word “should” often puts undue pressure on you to conform to standards that probably aren’t even your own.” (Jennifer Koretsky) Rather than thinking that you “should” be more organized, celebrate your creativity and individuality – your strengths -- and ask for help with your weaknesses.


Quotes of the Month
I didn’t belong as a kid, and that always bothered me. If only I’d known that one day my differentness would be an asset, then my early life would have been much easier. – Bette Midler

Certain defects are necessary for the existence of individuality. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Resistance to the organized mass can be effected only by the man who is as well organized in his individuality as the mass itself. – Carl Jung

August 2010 Newsletter

Lazy Days of Summer?


Message on one of the local school’s marquee: “Enjoy your summer, but be ready for the first day back on August 30!” What? Already? Nooooo…

Does anyone else remember summer break being longer and more luxurious? I don’t mean luxury like a fancy cruise, more like long days kicked back reading novels and hanging out near (and in) water. Plenty of time to be with friends, walk in the woods, go camping, star-gaze, feel like life is easy and carefree.

And yet, here it is, August, with the end of summer looming. Only a few short weeks before school’s back in session, before the crispness of autumn creeps back into the air. I am not ready, physically or emotionally. Which I suppose isn’t very Zen-accepting of me, but sometimes I just don’t feel like going gracefully into that dark night.

Still, the seasons sing a natural rhythm, and we’re probably better off if we can live in harmony with them. It’s harder to tune one’s life to nature’s rhythms when our lives are conducted by the cultural calendar: arbitrary dates of school sessions, unconscionably short vacations from 40-hour workweeks. Even our modes of building and transportation separate us from nature’s rhythms. But it’s do-able.

For me, working only 10 to 15 hours each week, living in the country, and having a garden have strengthened my connection to nature’s cycles. But even city-folk who work full-time and have black thumbs can build a relationship with natural time by nurturing their awareness of it.

Which brings me to this month’s invitation. I invite you to start noticing the little details of the season. What is special to this time of year in your region? In the coastal river valley I call home, the blackberries will be ready to begin picking by the end of the month, and the spider webs are sparkling with dew. This is the month when the Farmers’ Market is bursting with produce and variety. When the river is barely a creek. When the hay has all been bailed and moved, and the Jersey cows cross that trickling river to graze in the pasture outside my kitchen window.

I’d love to hear what you notice about the natural rhythms of August in your neck of the woods!


Tip of the Month

Replace the word “routine” with the word “rhythm.” The goal in time management is to create a gentle flow to our days, not a rigid structure. Think of your life as a float down river. What do you need to do in the morning before putting in? What do you do when you take out (end your day and prepare for bed)?

Quotes of the Month
"Always leave enough time in your life to do something that makes you happy, satisfied, even joyous. That has more of an effect on economic well-being than any other single factor." – Paul Hawken

"I think over again my small adventures, my fears, those small ones that seemed so big, all those vital things I had to get and to reach, and yet there is only one great thing: to live and see the great day that dawns, and the light that fills the world." -- Old Innuit Song

Veggie Songs

Peas squeak.

Seriously. When I pick the snow peas from the vine and place them in my hand, they gently rub against each other and produce a squeaking sound. It’s quite charming.

The green beans are quieter, issuing a small percussive snap when I break them free. Although would somebody please remind me next spring that I’m fonder of the idea of yellow wax beans than of the taste? I think there must be something about leaving the beans on the vine long enough to yellow that causes them to get a bit too starchy and tough. The Haricots Verts, however, are delicious: fresh and crunchy.

The sound of dill is softer yet. I picked a paper-lunch-bag full of dill leaves and set them out to dry, the whole time telling the dill how wonderful it smelled and that I was grateful for it; that it would be used well in spanakopita and zucchini latkes, in bread, and maybe even on fish.

And snails make a satisfying (if guilt-ridden) smack as they hit the pavement, having been launched over the fence once discovered hiding among the bean leaves.

This morning was dedicated to harvest. I walked over to the neighbors and picked up two dozen eggs, five of which I gathered directly from the hen house. (The cackling and carrying on of chickens is its own symphony of sorts.) While there, I helped myself (upon my neighbor’s invitation) to zucchini: four little, four medium, and one huge honker (for stuffing). Three small tomatoes made their way home with me, too, destined for tonight’s pizza. Then I wandered into my own garden, from which I harvested ½ pound each of peas and green beans, the bag of dill, and two bouquets worth of flowers (mostly dahlias).

Meanwhile, a loaf of oatmeal bread was baking. And later today I’ll wander over to the cows’ side of the pasture to collect blackberries. I’ve picked and frozen four one-pound bags so far, but would be happier with more. I love blackberries.

But what I love even more is gathering, and eating from my surroundings. I’m reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle right now (I’m in June), and am absolutely loving it. She’s a wonderful writer, and her attitude is refreshing. I wind up comparing her year-long experiment of eating only local food with Judith Levine’s Not Buying It. Where Levine came from a place of deprivation, Kingsolver embraces the challenge with a mindset of abundance and gratitude. And her daughter’s recipes are enticing – I will definitely be trying them. In fact, the book may wind up living on my cookbook shelf once I’m done.

Not that I’m ready to take the localvore pledge, but that’s mostly because of the dearth of local grains where I live. But I eat mostly local food, and of that, probably 90% organic.

In fact, one of the things that amuses me as I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is the differences in crop availability. Kingsolver lives in a region that has seasons – snow, even. She also has more heat than we do here on the coast. My god, she’s talking about teasing tomatoes ripe in mid June! Here it is mid September, and my tomatoes are still little green guys. (My neighbor has a warmer garden plot, shielded from the wind, and his tomatoes are up against a wall that adds reflected heat. Hence he has some ripe already.) I can’t even think about growing hot-weather crops: melons, peppers, eggplant… Of course, I’m allergic to them, so for me it doesn’t matter.

Also, everything seems to be late this year. The first of my sunflowers just opened its sunny face today. And most of my dahlias are tight buds. Hopefully this means it’s not too late for me to put in the winter garden. I planted broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, kale, chard, spinach, and onion starts on Sunday.

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My goodness, searching through my posts to provide links to recipes, I realized that I never shared my recipe for spanakopita. I apologize! Here it is:

Wilt one pound of cleaned spinach leaves.

Transfer the spinach to a large bowl and add:

8 ounces crumbled feta
one bunch of scallions, chopped
dill (about 1/2 cup fresh, or two Tablespoons dried)
mint (about1/4 cup fresh, or one Tablespoon dried)
nutmeg (just a light sprinkling)
Pepper (to taste)

You can also add:
toasted pine nuts (about 1/4 cup)
cottage cheese (to give it more bulk, up to 8 ounces)

Melt 4 Tablespoons butter and 4 Tablespoons olive oil together.

Brush the bottom of a square pyrex with the butter/oil.

Now begin the layering/buttering process with the phyllo dough, one sheet at a time, until you have about a dozen buttered sheets in the dish. Place your spinach/feta/herbs mixture on top of the phyllo, then proceed to cover it, one buttered sheet at a time, for another 8 to 12 sheets. Tuck it all in, brush the top with yet more butter, and bake at 350 until golden brown.

Warning: the measurements here are off the top of my head. You may need to tweak them. As always, I'm assuming you know how to cook and am offering the recipe as a guide.

Being Prepared

September is National Preparedness Month.

Just yesterday, a couple of my fellow organizers and I wrote up an informational press release to help members of our community be prepared, just in case. Ironically, tonight when I came home from dinner out with a friend, I discovered that I had no running water. Apparently the water tank has run very low and, this being a dry (drought) year, the well has been inadequate in its duty of keeping the storage tank topped off. Oy. I’ve put a call in to Puryear water delivery so that Bill Puryear can bring me a load of water to refill the tank, which will set me back about a 100 bucks.

Luckily, I have water stashed here and there, enough to get through until Bill comes to save the day. And once I remembered that I have water stashed, I stopped stressing about the pipes being dry. Once again, I have everything I need for this instant, and can be grateful that all really is okay.

So, for your amusement and benefit, here are the preparedness tips that we wrote up yesterday. Hope they help you.

Prepare a communication plan. This includes important contact information for family and friends, and who will contact whom. Remember, if the power goes out and your phone cell dies, you will be without your phone list. So keep a written hard copy and an old-fashioned non-electric telephone handy.

Agree upon a reunion plan. Where will you meet, and when?

Stock up on the necessities of life. The general rule of thumb is three days and three nights of provisions to get you through 72 hours of living without electricity. (In Humboldt County, you may want to plan for longer outages.) Don’t forget your pets! Necessary provisions include one gallon of water per person per day, basic grains, and ready-to-eat, non-perishable food. Remember to include a manual can opener.

Pretend you’re camping. Have a camp stove, fuel, water purification system, a flashlight, extra batteries, candles, waterproof matches, toiletries, and a first aid kit readily accessible. (You may want to keep another first aid kit in your car, too.)

Don’t forget your medications. Advice varies, but we suggest having a two-week supply of all important prescriptions available. Remember to rotate them each time you refill your prescription so that they don’t expire.

Create a Grab and Go bag. This contains a change of clothes (extra underwear for children), jackets, blankets, basic toiletries, a picture of each family member, high-protein bars, bottled water, and your essential documents file. (For more information on creating a documents file, see below.)

Have a radio with extra batteries. A NOAA weather radio is a good idea, especially if you’re in a tsunami zone. Either way, tune to KHUM at 104.3 or 104.7 FM for excellent live local coverage.


How to Create a Documents File:

What goes in a documents file?

Anything that would be a nuisance to replace. This includes:

A copy of all the cards in your wallet, front and back.

A copy of your driver's license.

Your passport.

Other vital documents such as birth certificates, marriage licenses, adoption papers, naturalization papers, your social security card.

A copy of your most recent insurance policies.

Photos of your valuable possessions.

Photos of your pets and other family members.

Your vehicles' pink slips.

Any other deeds showing title to property.

A copy of your most recent tax return.

A copy of your "just in case" data -- all that information someone would need to pick up the pieces if anything happened to you. (You can purchase my e-booklet, Organizing Your Estate, which takes you through the steps for compiling this data. Go to www.wintersdaughterpress.com and click on e-books.)

Gleaning Fruit for the People

Yesterday’s Times-Standard had an article that made me think: Finally!

It’s a simple story about a woman who has the local food bank send in a volunteer gleaner to harvest the abundance of apples on her trees so that the fruit can go to people who need food.

Years ago, when I lived in San Rafael (Marin County, California), I would walk around my extended neighborhood and wonder at the plethora of produce wasting away on people’s unharvested trees. So much food! Apples, plums, figs, pomegranates, lemons, pears … why wasn’t anyone harvesting this? It seemed to me that there must be a way to have the fruit picked and distributed to those who were hungry. But no, I guess people were too concerned about their liability to have anyone come in and pick the trees clean.

Ah, but this is Humboldt County, not Marin. Not only does our local Food for People provide volunteer gleaners, it is part of the national Plant a Row for the Hungry program. As explained in the Times-Standard article, “Gardeners are asked to plant an extra row of food and donate it to Food for People, the food bank for Humboldt County. The purpose of the program is to ensure that everyone has access to the healthiest food choices available.”

Back in those Marin County days, times got tight. There was a period when my partner and I found ourselves needing the help of the local services. The saying “beggars can’t be choosers” was right on; the contents of the grocery bags we received were far from the healthy foods we tried our best to eat. Fresh organic produce? In our dreams. So I’m particularly pleased that programs exist to bring those apples (and whatever else folks plant or can’t keep up with themselves) to people needing help with groceries.

And who knows, with a bit of luck (and a lot more sweat), my garden may start producing enough to share with others! I’m excited – I got a worm bin for my birthday! And, I discovered yesterday, bats have finally moved into the bat house. So we’ve put a tray below their abode to catch their guano. Worm castings and bat guano – exciting shit.

Those Special Folks from Our Past

I got a very special phone call today, one I never anticipated receiving.

A former student of mine, from the year I taught sixth grade (1989-1990), found me on the Internet and called. He’s pushing 30 now, has a young family and a career. But he’d run across one of those “who was a special teacher in your life?” questions and, once again, as he has over the years, he thought of me. So he looked me up and called, just to tell me that I had made a difference in his life, that I wasn’t like all the other teachers and that was why he and his classmates liked me – I was a real human being, more like a friend.

Oh my God – what a blessing! I remembered that year – my last year as a classroom teacher – as my year from hell. The principal had it out for me, and one of the students made life difficult because he’d really wanted to be in the other sixth-grade classroom with the “cool” teacher. I liked the kids, and I like to think I was an okay teacher. But never in my dreams did I think I’d made a memorable impact on those kids.

And a couple of weeks ago I received a shy “hello” from an old college colleague. I spent my senior year at Sonoma State as second-in-command on the school paper. My colleague was the editor the second semester, so we worked side by side for several months. And haven’t heard from each other since graduating in 1981. I’ve thoroughly been enjoying exchanging emails with him, and am looking forward to his visiting (with his wife) in the fall.

All of which has me thinking about former teachers who made a difference in my life. I can think of four.

Mrs. Fortman – a formidable English teacher at Analy High. It was because of her that I read Chaim Potok’s The Chosen and Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun. She appeared gruff and stern, but her classroom library was filled with thought-provoking (and somewhat radical) novels.

Russ Reade – also at Analy. Russ taught Social Biology, which was one of the two classes I actually showed up on campus for that year. He had us researching and thinking about issues like cryogenics and euthanasia – it was really more like a class on scientific ethics. He retired a short while later to buy a whore house in Nevada.

Cott Hobart – was my Humanities teacher at Santa Rosa Junior College. I hold Cott personally responsible for gifting me with my spiritual path. He introduced us to Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung, and taught about the Eleusinian Mysteries. These have been my spiritual reference points ever since.

Gerry Haslam – taught English and linguistics at Sonoma State. He’s also a writer, and I own several of his books. (I keep very few books.) Gerry was also the faculty advisor on the college paper, so we got to know him reasonably well. He’s one of the most decent human beings I’ve ever met.

Who were your special teachers? And have you let them know?

Summer Recipes

Seems all I’m doing these days is cooking. Which isn’t literally true, but it sure feels that way! Sunday I made veggie lasagna and two kinds of bread. Monday I made my sugar-free apple pie. (See “Apples” for the pie recipe.) Yesterday I made a version of my Southeast Asian shrimp/rice noodle salad. Today – in addition to clarifying almost a pound of butter – I finally dealt with the substantial donation of zucchini that my neighbors brought by on Sunday. (Grated it up, froze some of it, and turned the rest into a cake. Oh, and dedicated the two largest zukes to being stuffed. (See “Cooking Caveat” for the stuffed zucchini recipe.)

One of my readers recently told me that he’s tried several of my recipes – both here and in Following Raven, Finding Ground – and that they’re good. (They are!) Encouraged by his positive feedback, I’ve decided to share the recipes for my recent culinary endeavors. Enjoy!


Light Rye Bread (made in my bread maker on basic setting)
11 ounces water
1 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2 Tablespoons (packed) brown sugar
3 cups unbleached white flour
1 cup rye flour
¼ cup flax meal
1 heaping Tablespoon dried dill
2 Tablespoons (or so) caraway seeds
1 Tablespoon active dry yeast


Challah (made by hand in my wooden bread bowl)
Mix:
1 cup milk
3 Tablespoons sugar
1-1/2 teaspoons salt
½ stick of butter
2 eggs

Add:
4 cups (plus) of bread flour
¼ cup flax meal
2 teaspoons yeast
(poppy seeds)

Knead until satiny and springy.
Cover and allow to rise.

Punch down, knead briefly, and allow to rise a second time.

Punch down, knead briefly, and break into three equal pieces. Roll these out into ropes, braid them, and allow to rise a third time, this time in a warm oven. (You can brush the top at this point with egg wash, and/or sprinkle on seeds.)

Bake at 350 until done, about 45 to 50 minutes.


Veggie Lasagna
A few hours before assembling, I start the tomato sauce, as follows:
Sautee:
One onion, diced
Lots and lots of chopped garlic (a whole head if you dare!)
Sliced mushrooms (about 1 cup)
Cubed zucchini (2 smallish ones)
Chopped tomatoes (I used two good-sized Brandywines)

Once the veggies have softened, add a 15 ounce can of tomato sauce and about ½ cup of red wine.

Season with (fresh if you have it!)
Oregano
Marjoram
Thyme

Cook, covered, over low heat for a couple/three hours, stirring occasionally.

Shortly before assembling, add 1 pound of cleaned spinach and a small bunch of fresh basil to the sauce.

Assemble in layers:

Enough sauce on the bottom to keep noodles from sticking
Lasagna noodles (cooked)
More sauce
Globs of Ricotta cheese (I use one pint total)
Globs of Pesto
Repeat: noodles, sauce, ricotta, pesto
Top: noodles and lots of sliced mozzarella cheese

Bake at 350 until bubbly and deep gold in color.


Chocolate Zucchini Cake
Cream:
½ cup butter
¼ cup oil
1-1/2 cups sugar

Blend in:
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla

Add:
¼ cup cocoa
½ cup whole wheat flour
2 cups unbleached white flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
sprinkling of cinnamon

Mix in:
2 cups grated zucchini

Bake in a spring form pan at 350 for about 50 minutes.

Remove the side of the pan, allow to cool, then top with a chocolate glaze. (I melt about 1/8 cup of coconut oil over low heat, then remove it from the stove and mix in equal amounts of liquid sweetener (agave nectar or maple syrup, usually – sometimes both) and cocoa – about ¼ to ½ cup each. Adjust sweetener and cocoa to taste, then pour over the cake.


Southeast Asian Shrimp/Rice Noodle Salad
Chop and lay out on a large platter:
One small head of lettuce (I use red butter)
A healthy handful of fresh cilantro
A smaller handful of fresh basil
Several sprigs of fresh mint

You can also add a grated carrot and/or sliced green onions.

Top the vegetables with approximately 4 ounces of cooked rice noodles (Maifun).

Cook shelled shrimp in a dry skillet. (I am generous with the shrimp, usually allotting 9 or 10 for each person. Wood’s Wild American White Shrimp is especially delicious, and wild caught.) Place the shrimp on top of the cooked noodles.

Drizzle dressing over the salad, and sprinkle with toasted peanuts.

Dressing: (adjust to taste)
2 Tablespoons fish sauce
6 Tablespoons lime juice
1 teaspoon sesame oil
4 teaspoons sugar
minced ginger
fresh chopped mint

A Rainbow of Thankfulness

Chris Guillebeau, who writes at The Art of Nonconformity, was the guest blogger at Zen Habits recently. He wrote about living a life of gratitude, and challenged others to build a habit of gratitude.

Anyone who’s heard me lecture knows I’m big on gratitude, too. Principle #9 of my 12 Basic Principles of Being Organized is “Adopt an Attitude of Gratitude.” My usual rap is that much of our clutter comes from holding on “just in case,” from scarcity thinking, and that the opposite of scarcity is abundance and the quickest way to abundance is gratitude. By practicing gratitude every day, we build new neural pathways in our brain, much like curling weights builds biceps, or like water wears a new course over time. Daily gratitude becomes a habit, our default way of viewing the world, and teaches us that we are indeed blessed. In turn, we are better able to let go of the unnecessary in our lives, to simplify.

Anyway, that’s the rap. Today’s practice finds expression in color. There’s a line from a James Taylor song that runs through my head: “Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose.” Yes. Especially greens. Especially the greens of leaves, the warm young green of the underside of Big Leaf Maples as they’re lit by streaming sunlight from above, and the darker greens of firs and cedars and spruce in the forest behind. And the green of moss on river-wet stones.

Blue skies, of course, are always welcome here on the Pacific Northwest. Today brought the blue of the Pacific, too. After a leisurely late brunch in Trinidad, we went walking at Elk Head, eventually finding a niche along the cliff that provided some wind protection and a view of the ocean, with its two tones of blue – shallow turquoise meeting the deeper and darker, more true blue.

White gulls rode the thermals. As I lay in the warm sand, snuggled against Ronnie, I watched them glide by. One was having fun soaring backwards.

Of course, black ravens rode those same thermals.

Walking along the path we found native lilies just beginning to bloom, an almost pumpkin orange with brown spots. Red columbine with 5 bright yellow tubes in its center draped gracefully. Wild iris in varying shades of purple – from pale creamy with light purple striations to deep purple with yellow markings – brightened the trail. And cheery yellow buttercups (which are actually an invasive weed, but they’re so pretty!) decorated the open area by the parking lot.

On the way home, I noticed that the golden fields of mown pasture grass were now dotted with bales of hay. There’s something so pleasing about seeing acres of hay bales lined outside my kitchen window, extending clear across the valley.

Once we got home, I unpacked my wicker basket of produce that we’d bought at Farmer’s Market earlier in the day. Laid out on my fruit table are my favorite color -- three plates of red: raspberries, strawberries, and cherries. Oh my god do I love summer!!! For these fruits I am truly grateful…

And now, 10 o’clock at night, I look out my office window on a round white moon rising above the wooded hills.

Life is good.

Recycling My Food

And I thought I was being so innovative…

You know that little piece of green onion that you cut off, along with the roots, when chopping up green onions? A while back, I decided that, instead of tossing them into my compost, I’d spoon them into the soil in my herb bed (a long planter box that Anthony built for me and that lives on my deck, right out my front door). Sure enough, those little darlings grew into brand-new (sorta) green onions. The ultimate in recycling and being “green,” eh?

Of course, I plant the garlic bulbs that have begun to sprout, too – and am happily harvesting fresh garlic as a result.

And a client recently gave me a bag of Warren Creek organic potatoes – Russets, Yukon Gold, Red Creamers, and Peruvian Purples – that had grown a tangle of roots in her ignored potato drawer. Those are now in the ground, covered with rice straw. A bit of luck and they’ll shoot out leaves, then, eventually, potatoes.

Turns out my recycling techniques are old hat, though. In this week’s North Coast Journal, Amy Stewart wrote a cute piece entitled “Eat Your Trash.” In it, she discusses the re-issue of Deborah Peterson’s Don’t Throw It, Grow It! 59 Windowsill Plants from Kitchen Scraps. To quote Amy: “There’s hardly a scrap of produce on your cutting board that can’t be given a second life, according to the authors. Carrot tops, garbanzo beans, peanuts, jicama, lemongrass, ginger – they can all be made to grow again. Spices and nuts can be sprouted as seeds, fruits and vegetables will grow from cuttings, and beans and peas will turn into climbing vines in a jiffy.”

You mean I can be recycling my carrots, too?

Of course, a lot of plants won’t produce here. Too much wind, not enough heat days. Rules out the possibility of ginger or lemongrass (both of which I like to cook with). And I think I read that growing beans is tricky. But maybe I can let some of my peas go all the way to seed, and then start new plants from them. (Duh – isn’t this the basis of seed saving? It’s a good thing I’m not dependent on my gardening to feed me. There’s so much I don’t know!)

What have you had success at re-growing?

Redwoods and Rivers

I first lusted after the Trinity river 10 years ago, when traveling around the country, trying to decide where I wanted to spend my life. Driving along Highway 299, I looked up at the redwoods and firs and pines on the hills banking the river, then gazed down at the clear water and the run-able rapids, and thought, “I want in that water! Maybe I can get a job cooking for a river-running outfit.”

And then, Fourth of July weekend, 1999, I met the river-running outfit that would take me down the Trinity – as well as the Klamath, and the Rogue, and the Smith, and a bit of the Salmon. Michael Charlton, owner (with his wife, Wanda) of Redwoods and Rivers Rafting, had a booth at the Arcata Fourth of July festival. I signed up for a trip then and there.

My maiden voyage with Michael was the Pigeon Point run down the Trinity. I was so impressed by Michael (who has become a good friend over the years) that I refuse to even consider rafting with anyone else.

Why impressed? To begin with, I always feel safe. Rapids are fun, but I don’t run them for the thrill. I raft for the beauty and serenity of being on the water – for the mergansers with their ducklings scurrying upstream, the bald eagle swooping in for a fish and then carrying it back to the trees to eat, the endless Vs of green mountains when I look back upstream, the turtles basking on sun-baked rocks, the smell of white water. Michael and his guides (he runs a guide-training school, too) understand the beauty, are environmentally responsible, and are informative naturalists. They’re also gracious – rafting guests are always well fed and cared for.

Tuesday we spent a couple of hours on the Trinity. The water was running at about 2800 cfs (cubic feet per second). Shane, our guide, explained the flow as standing on the bank, looking across the river, and watching 2800 basketballs go by EACH SECOND. That’s a lot of basketballs. The powers that be are currently releasing enough water to keep the flow high; they are trying to mimic the natural spring flush of an undammed river. (For an interesting editorial on the politics of dammed rivers and diverting water to central and southern California for agricultural purposes – in this case, cotton – and the more sensible idea of keeping the water in the rivers so that they can heal – and even thrive! – see My Word by Aldaron Laird in the Times-Standard.)

I like Laird’s idea: “Perhaps the water in the Trinity should be used to recover and raise a bountiful crop of salmon on the North Coast, not cotton in the Westlands desert.” I’ve never quite understood the logic of perpetuating an economy that doesn’t fit its environment, such as raising water-dependent crops in areas that require importing water. Seems we’d all be better off if we work with what’s naturally available.

Which brings me to Michael and Wanda’s home. They purchased a number of acres along the Trinity, in Del Loma, a few years back. After rafting, Ronnie and I went back to their place for lunch, and to stay the night. I couldn’t get over how Wanda’s been landscaping the property! She’s collected river stones and built gardens everywhere: whimsical rock gardens studded with blue glass bottles and random objects; a small lawn bordered by a short rock wall and giant lavender bushes; and numerous rock-bordered flower gardens, one with a windmill. The tomato “cages” in the veggie garden are a cross-hatch of madrone branches, and the beans’ tipi is made of five long madrone limbs held together at the top with a rusted metal ring notched into them. Everything is made from resources found there on the property, or from scavenged items (“found art”).

Best of all, though, is Wanda’s version of a hammock. She’s hung a couple of old iron bed frames from the sturdy branches of yet another madrone, and thrown mattresses on them. We spent the night rocked to sleep beneath the madrone leaves, and woke in the early morning (thank you, Mr. rooster!) to the cheap-cheap-cheap of baby robins in their nest – almost directly above our bed – being fed by their robin parents.

A few of my favorite songs

I guess most people just put these on their I-Pods, but I’m technologically behind the times (on purpose). No I-Pod in my life, so nothing I can hand over to a friend and say here, these are the tunes that rock my world. Instead, I’m writing them down here, in case you have any interest in which songs remain my favorites over the years (listed by the artist whose version I prefer). I’m sure I’ve forgotten some, but this is a start.

??? – Eli, Eli
Allman Brothers -- Stormy Monday
Blood Sweat & Tears – Spinning Wheel
David Bromberg – Will Not Be Your Fool
David Allan Coe – You Never Even Called Me By My Name
Crosby Stills Nash & Young – Wooden Ships
Dan Hicks – I Scare Myself
Chris Isaak – Wicked Game
John Mayall – California
Odetta – If I Had Wings
Bonnie Raitt – Angel from Montgomery
Pete Seeger – Oh Healing River
Pete Seeger – Masters of War (Dylan’s)
Nina Simone – Sinnerman
Nina Simone – Pirate Jenny’s Song (from Three Penny Opera)
Rolling Stones – Sympathy for the Devil
Rolling Stones – You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Talking Heads – Take Me To The River
James Taylor – Fire and Rain
Marshall Tucker – Can’t You See
Van Morrison – Moon Dance
Tom Waits – Nighthawks At The Diner
Kate Wolf – Golden Rolling Hills of California

What are some of your all-time favorites?

Feeling Crabby

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Mercury’s been retrograde. Seems everything’s falling apart recently. In the past two weeks, I’ve had to replace the toilet and the washing machine. Which has put me through the environmental-ethics wringer.

It appears that Mr. Rooter does not recycle the toilets, even though Kernen Construction takes porcelain fixtures – for free – crushes them, and re-uses them for road base. He doesn’t want to “drive all the way up there” (about 10 to 15 miles); it isn’t worth his time and expense. Sigh. (Otherwise, he's a nice guy and provides great customer support.) Had I known that Kernen Construction recycled toilets, and had I had more time before committing to the old one being replaced, I would have searched out a plumber who took the old fixture in to Kernen. Instead, I’ve contributed unnecessarily to the landfill.

Anthony and I hauled the old washing machine, which would cost almost $200 more to repair than to replace new, to the recycling center and paid the $17 recycling fee. It, at least, will not go to the dump. But I bought a brand-new washer instead of a refurbished one, which means I am consuming considerably more “embodied energy.” It’s just that, when it comes to machines, I want the assurance that it won’t die on me prematurely. Somehow, buying new feels like a safer bet.

But now I feel like a failure as an environmentally-conscious consumer. Okay, the toilet is a low-flow that’s actually designed to work with 1.5 gallons per flush, and the washer is an Energy Star front loader, so it uses minimal water and electricity. Still, I feel like I failed. I should have recycled the toilet, should have bought used instead of new… Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Perhaps this is where I need to remember that old Al-Anon wisdom of “progress, not perfection.” Overall I have a reasonable eco-footprint (other than the fact that, because I live in the country, I am car dependent). My usual garbage amounts to maybe a quarter of a brown grocery bag per week – everything else is composted or recycled. I buy primarily organic, from small local farmers when possible. I clean with eco-groovy cleaners (mostly Bon Ami and elbow grease), have a small (fully insulated) house.

Or am I justifying away my guilt?

My mom (Franci Gallegos) was proud of being named environmentalist of the year in Sonoma County. She bravely battled the lumber barons (as she called them), fighting to preserve her local watershed. Yet I remember being disgusted by what I deemed her hypocrisy, i.e., the lack of environmental awareness and behavior in her own home. Never mind that she smoked and her whole house reeked something awful (the cat boxes didn’t help); her cupboards were filled with toxic cleaning solutions and unhealthy food. A true “Sierra-Club environmentalist” – that was my mom.

Granted, my life is a hell of a lot cleaner than hers. Still, I wonder if there’s a voice somewhere in my head that says I’m being “just like her.” (And God knows we don’t want to be like our mothers! Isn’t that our great fear, to look in the mirror and see Mom?) Maybe, somewhere inside, I am equally disgusted with my own apparent hypocrisy, which is how I judge my imperfection, and how I project that others will judge me.

Dang. All I wanted was a working toilet and washing machine. How did life get so complicated?

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On a completely different note, here’s the recipe for tonight’s dinner.

Thai-Inspired Crab Cakes

Combine:
1 large carrot, grated (about 1 cup)
2 green onions, cut thinly (plant the root ends that you cut off – they’ll re-grow!)
1 stalk lemongrass, finely minced
about ½ cup of chopped fresh cilantro
1 thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, grated (a small thumb, that is)
1 Tablespoon fish sauce
3 Tablespoons lime juice
1 teaspoon sugar

Let this sit for a little while so that the flavors can intermingle. When ready to cook the cakes, mix in:
1 egg
Panko crumbs (between ½ cup and 1 cup, just enough to hold everything together)

Then gently fold in:
¼ to 1/3 pound of fresh crab (Dungeness)
6 small prawns, shelled, de-veined, and chopped (optional)

Heat your skillet, add oil (I use organic canola) and fry up the crab cakes over a medium-low heat.

Makes about 16 “slightly flattened golf-ball” sized cakes. (This is how Anthony described the shape and size when I asked him about them.)

Lac d'Elk

Winters in western Sonoma County could be exciting. I remember, growing up in Camp Meeker, how the Russian River would crest its banks, and we’d (foolishly) drive out to Monte Rio and toward Guerneville to see the flood. It seemed magnificent, exhilarating. Except of course for the poor folks who actually lived along the riverbanks. Silly people, I judged – why would they live so close to a river they knew flooded regularly?

Thirty years later, I must turn the same judgment on myself. As it has every year that I’ve lived here, the Elk River is rising. It crested its banks this afternoon, and I watched it crawl across Farmer John’s field toward my house.

It’s actually lovely, in a way. I can gaze across the pasture through my kitchen and bedroom windows. This time of year, the riparian willows are bare, so I can see through them to the river’s bank and beyond to Farmer John’s dairy barn. When the river rises to its bank, I see its shimmer through the trees. And when it crests, it forms pools in the pasture’s hollows. Eventually those pools grow until they join into one continuous, rippling brown flow. Then the birds arrive, the blue herons and the crows, maybe a turkey vulture or two.

Usually the river stays there, about one-third of the way across the pasture toward my house. About once a year, though, it gets bad. Elk River becomes Lac d’Elk, a wide, mucky current sprawling from Larry’s fields, through the Franceschi’s back property, across the road to my back yard. The river makes a big U right at my place, and Farmer’s John pasture is the space inside the U. When we flood, the river fills the U-shaped pasture, joining banks right through my property.

And when the river REALLY floods, it rushes up around my house. My home becomes an island, with water gushing around and under the building.

This is where I thank my architect for suggesting that, as long as I had to put in a new foundation when I bought the place, why not raise the house 3 feet?

Had we not raised the house, it would have been destroyed by flood the first winter I lived here. As is, it came up 18 inches in the carport that year, literally ½ an inch from coming in the back door to the utility room. (I did not raise the little rooms that are at the back of the carport.) The house, thank God (and my architect), is out of harm’s way.

But the carport gets thrashed by the flood waters. It’s always an interesting call once the river’s risen. Is this the time it will flood all the way? Will it flood tonight, after I’ve gone to bed? How much more will it rain, and what’s going on with the tides?

Just in case, I drove the rider mower over to Marianne’s tonight and stored it in her shelter, high on her hill. I also parked my car up by the road. If I truly thought it would flood tonight (and none of the residents down Elk River Courts -- who become stranded back there because their bridge gets covered by water -- have moved their cars up to the road, so I guess the danger isn’t that high), I would move the bicycles and the push mower up onto my tenant’s back steps. (His house is on slightly higher ground and out of flood range.)

So why the hell did I buy a place on a river that floods, given how I used to scoff at people who did just this when I was younger? Well, other than karma… I honestly did not know it would flood. I was informed, during the purchasing process, that the property was zoned 100-year flood plain, and that it had flooded just a few years prior. Hey, I had another 100 years, right?

Well, if Pacific Lumber/Maxxam had not destroyed the river with sedimentary run-off from their rapacious logging upstream, I probably would have had that 100 years. Instead, I have a home that I love with an annual “lakeside” view.

* * * * *

Well, it's morning now and the Elk River is back within its banks. Evidently, last night was not the night for our annual flood. It was, however, quite a storm, with lightening brightly visible through closed eyes and long loud thunders and rain slamming into the bedroom windows. All at 2:00 a.m. Sleep? What's sleep?