Why I Like Sutter's Mill

While we were in California, we stopped by Sutter's Mill, the place that began the Gold Rush. Historically, that's a fun thing to see.

Personally, it is a special place for me.

Phil and I got engaged over the phone. I was in Idaho in school; he was in Colorado. We figured we would like to get married, but it felt silly to make plans without a firm commitment, so on February 9th (our personal Valentine's Day), he proposed.

But it's hard to send a ring via phone or fax, and so I was ringless.

I met his family over spring break, about four weeks later. The days passed, and no ring appeared.

The day before I went back to school, we went to Coloma, to see Sutter's Mill. And Phil pulled out of his backpack my long coveted Lord of the Rings trilogy, in hardback with a slipcover. (Phil had casually mentioned the previous fall that I shouldn't let my parents get me that set for Christmas. That seemed like a dead giveaway for what he was planning to get, so I was a bit stymied when it didn't show up for Christmas. And not for my birthday either!)

The Fellowship of the Ring was poking out of the slipcover, and there was my ring behind it. I would like to think that Phil found gold at Sutter's Mill, too, almost thirteen years ago now.

Sunday the 6th: Fairy Tale Town

When Abraham was about three months old, we took the boys to Fairy Tale Town in Sacramento. We finally made it back last Sunday. The Sherwood Forest section was closed for renovation, which made it seem much smaller than I remembered, but my oldest the last time was the age of my youngest now, so the size of the stride of my sons is a good bit larger.

At that point, we had never thought about moving to a farm, so the tractor was an attraction.

Now, it's just a way to look good.

But, really, what a charming place. A slide in the shape of a shoe (there was an old woman who lived in a shoe).

A hippopotamus drinking fountain, apropos of nothing.

Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water.

The cheese stands alone.

Dorothy wants to return to Oz.

Dorothy has good friends.

And the pirate ship of Captain Hook.

With a plank that ends in sharks.

Joe followed the yellow brick road.

And he sat on a turtle in the little garden, with plants from A to Z.

An incredible wishing well. I wish I had one at my house: drop the coins in a slot on the side, and they would roll in a beautiful arc around and around, gradually going faster and faster until they were flying. We tried one penny, then two at a time, then two right after the other. It was a dance, and we watched until we ran out of coins.

Happy 90th!

Phil's grandpa turned 90 last Friday, and we flew to California to celebrate his birthday with the extended family. What a great party that was! Almost twelve hours from first arrival to last departure, we talked and toasted, laughed and ate.

Oh—and we took our traditional first of the year photo, a couple days late.

We had a great visit with Phil's family. The boys sprouted facial hair and went bowling for the first time (all three of the olders improved dramatically in form; Jadon made a strike in the first round without hitting either bumper, and Abraham got a strike in the second round with a bumper).

Drooling Over Dahlias

I was talking to a florist last year, and the subject of dahlias came up. She recommended Swan Island Dahlias. Their 2013 catalog came this week, and I finally had a chance to really peruse it. Dahlias from 12" or more, down to an inch or two. Dahlias with the multi-rows of petals and single rows. So many colors, so many shapes.

Did you know that dahlias produce 2'-3' stems all summer long? Instead of the two weeks of blooms from the daffodils, some dahlias could give me months of color and cut flowers.

And, yes, they do require lifting in the fall, so I don't think 10,000 would be reasonable (either from a financial or work standpoint), but maybe 20? Maybe.

Winter is a great time to dream!

Book Bucket List

My friend asked me a fun question: if you were trapped on a desert island, and had the Bible, the Complete Shakespeare, and, say, a basic guide to desert island survival, what additional eight books (that you can actually buy, not an imaginary "ideal" compilation) and single album, would you want with you and why?

Here's my list.

The single album: a good recording of The Messiah. Although there are other pieces of music that I love (Beethoven's 7th and 9th, Chopin's Piano Sonatas 1 and 2, Brahm's cello concertos, Puccini's La Boheme, and Mozart's Requiem Mass, to name a few), I think Handel's oratorio offers the best mix of uplifting lyrics and transcendent music. If that was all I had to listen to for life, I think it would be enough.

The books.

• The Story of Art by Gombrich. It might not be the most lengthy of art books, and, as such, perhaps would not offer the extensiveness of books with 1001 Paintings, but I love the readability and intelligence of the text, combined with quality reproductions. A life without a bit of beautiful paintings: no thanks.
• The Wednesday Wars and
• Okay for Now, both by Gary Schmidt. These are my comfort food books, and I think comfort food is important. If trapped on a desert island, I would want these books to make me laugh and cry and remember human relations in all their joys, sorrows, brokenness and beauty. The first time I read The Wednesday Wars, I laughed hysterically and wept convulsively. They move me.
• Cry, the Beloved Country and
• To Kill a Mockingbird because I cannot imagine never being able to read them again. Their beauty haunts me.
• The Brothers Karamazov in the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation (very important!). I read this once, and just got the basic plot. I want more time to explore it. And, at almost 800 pages, it would take a while to get through: a good thing, when limited in quantity.
• The Odyssey, probably in Fitzgerald's translation (though maybe I will find one I like more some day: I doubt it). Another classic that I love, that would repay repeated study.
• Dante's Divine Comedy. I am going to trust that there is a good translation of the entire thing, with notes enough to inform me of background information, though I don't have a specific one. I love Dante. I love the beautiful structure of the Commedia, I love the journey, the circles, the conception of the universe. I love the punishments that fit the crimes, that he has Virgil and Beatrice (bay uh TREE chay in Italian: so lovely!) to guide him. A creative masterpiece, a work of writing and organization so profound and lovely.

And even as I write this, I start to second guess myself. Would I really prefer to have Okay for Now over Corrie Ten Boom's outstanding story of the faithfulness of God in The Hiding Place? Would I grow weary of the philandering of Odysseus, or would I be constantly amazed by the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the incomparable Penelope? (And would I actually prefer that epic over, say, the complete poems of Robert Frost, which I haven't read entirely? But I love most of Frost in anthologies.) And what about Gerald Manley Hopkins, "The world is charged with the grandeur of God"; "and ah! bright wings."

It's too hard.

A fun conversation starter; a horrifying thought.

Phil's Finger

When Phil went for a follow-up visit, the doctor said the finger was doing better than he expected. Since I had expected total healing, I was surprised to hear that. Pleased, yes, but still surprised.

For at least two more weeks, Phil needs to keep it buddy-taped. He needs to play with playdough. So he will continue to recover, and that is good.

New Year Bits and Pieces

Phil asked yesterday night if I had had a good year. I mentioned my feeling of general malaise; perhaps I didn't have a large project completed, and that left my year feeling flat.

"What? Your project for the year was to work to earn money so we could live! You did great at your project for the year!"

Interesting how a single comment can reframe a mindset. With that happy thought, I welcomed the new year.

***

One of the self-help books I read years ago suggested going through files annually. Doesn't that sound like a pipe dream? I got through about ten folders a year ago before I gave up.

With a bit of down time over the holidays, I started again. I have filed "Gardening" articles for the last five years, popping them in the folder and never looking at them again. Going through the file now, I can see that most of the articles would more properly come under the "Someday/Maybe" rubric. Yes, it would be interesting to grow bayberries and make bayberry candles. Is that a priority this year? No. Someday (maybe).

Some files are simply fun to look through. I like looking at our cow's registration papers, or lists of beekeeping books. And I like reminding myself of the various information I've found interesting. I no longer need to keep articles about, say, goats.

I also snip recipes sometimes. I needed a few folders for those: ones I could try imminently, and ones I might like to try someday, when I don't have to buy all the produce required. It's a Someday/Maybe file for recipes! (I once read of a mom who would date a recipe, and put it on her refrigerator. If she hadn't used it within ten days, she figured she wasn't that excited about it, and threw the recipe away. I'm not that disciplined.)

***

I no longer need certain seed catalogs: I like the companies I buy from (Turtle Tree for good biodynamic seeds: the packets I've bought from them have the best vigor overall; Southern Exposure Seed Exchange for good regional varieties—friends in Colorado and California should find more local sources; Johnny's Selected Seeds for large quantities, like cover crops). I placed the bulk of my seed order last Saturday.

I considered trying to retry some of the seed from the last few years; I have overbought lettuce seeds. But I think I'm sprouting-shy after last year's disappointments. Two year old seed, surely not stored in ideal conditions: if I really want to have broccoli, should I rely on such? I have more peace of mind buying new.

One of my favorite flowers, the brilliant pink "brain-like" flower celosia, had sold out. I was walking through the moon bed today and noticed a single dried celosia, loaded with seeds. Perhaps I will have my pretties next year after all. What a little gift!


***

It's been some time since I saw the bees. The cold weather has finally forced them into hibernation. I peeked at their boards. Celadon, with the single super, was the weakest, with a scant bit of droppings near the front.

Damaris was the strongest, with a clear pattern of waste along the frames.

And Daffodil was holding its own.


***

The older boys helped Phil and I move the cows today. We worked well as a team. While Isaiah and I set up a lane through the orchard, down the driveway, and into the grass down slope from the greenhouse, Phil and Jadon drove the reluctant cows up and around. It was heartwarming to see the cows graze the one thick sward we still have. (I don't have a photo of the grass: we have one spot that remains a gorgeous green, unlike the rest of the winter brown.)

Phil has also finished the revised mineral feeder. After going through two rubber mats last year, and sometimes losing a batch of minerals because the rubber mat was up during a rainstorm, Phil designed and made a new version.

Hopefully the cows like it!