Mountain Mama

Which is a lyric that has never made sense to me, but I'm not from West Virginia. 

Over the past few years DOB has been working out how to do some off-roading in the Olympics. It started as just a diversion en route to the annual beach pilgrimage, involving a lot of dead ends and occasionally bees. Over the years he has acquired more off-roading capable vehicles and figured out where to print off maps of the logging roads. 

This year we spent Memorial Day chasing down roads along with a few other people. He wanted to do that again on the 5th, but it didn't work out for anyone else, so just Dash and I went along. I suggested a relatively tame loop, but Dash and DOB wanted something more interesting. We went as far as the trailhead for Mount Ellinor, which my father used to climb regularly in his youth and which I ascended with him when I was about 10. My only memory of this trip is clinging to the summit in terror. Still, it was cool to be up there and Dash and I are discussing doing a summit. It's a challenging trail but there were plenty of people coming down with grade school children in tow, so it can't be that difficult, right?  On the other hand, while I walk a good deal on relatively level ground I was getting winded just descending a bit from the parking lot, so I probably should try some lesser elevation hikes first. 

After that we tried various roads. The first one had apparently been wiped out by a landslide several years back (judging from the scrubby trees growing out of it). Fortunately the wipe out was clearly visible from where it turned off the main(ish) road and there was a parking lot, so DOB stayed there while Dash and I hiked a short way down and discovered it would indeed have had incredible views if it had been traversible. But that one would have been a dead end at best anyway, so we were not too disappointed.  

The next one we had passed on the way up and the maps indicated would lead us on a large and windy loop that would eventually get us back to Highway 101. However, as should be indicated by my statement above, the maps are not in any way updated to show that roads have become impassable or closed. It is entirely a use at your own risk system, and often we would see roads clearly marked on the map of which there was no sign that a road had ever existed. 

The entrance to this one was rocky and narrow but clear, so we headed out and DOB was rather disappointed when the rocks dissipated to gravel and a clear but narrow road lined heavily by trees that looked more like an overgrown driveway than a mountain adventure. We continued for quite awhile with nothing more terrifying that a good bit of paint damage when the road began to be more along the edge and we came across a rockslide where a boulder blocked half the road and there was no shoulder on the other side. Dash got out and determined it was *just* wide enough for the truck and he spotted DOB through it while I tried valiantly but not always successfully not to scream. 

There were a few other narrow spots between fallen trees and boulders, and one with loose scree high on one side and a narrow edge on the other. There were also some lovely views and absolutely no other vehicles on the road, which was both a relief and a concern. 

I decided after the first time, that it would be for the good of all if I got out and walked around the next bend and examined the very lovely wildflowers while these locations were being traversed. So we continued on for a couple of hours (at about 5 mph) thinking that at least we would not need to past *those* obstacles again when we came to a place where the road was entirely covered a couple feet thick in loose scree that tapered off into more landslide on the other side. There were tire tracks on it, and the road did continue on the other side, but DOB concluded that it was beyond even his considerable skill except in a Jeep with a winch. (I did not previously realize that having equipment to tie your car to a tree and drag it over such obstacles was even a thing.)

Well. That meant all those obstacles we were relieved to get past were still waiting behind us, and that only after DOB backed the truck the quarter mile back to the closest turnout. I did even more walking ahead on the way back, along with some fervent prayers and, at that hour, some bug slapping. However, we did eventually make it all out alive. (DOB swore that death was not really a potential outcome, although getting the truck stuck in a stand of trees was one, in which case I felt like I would still be in a much better position to render aid if I waited down the road.) We got back to the main forest road and took the more mundane loop back to the highway, although we did pass where the road would, theoretically, have come out. 

Anyway, having discovered that while I do still have some fear of edges, edges with my feet on solid ground are much less scary than edges in the passenger seat of a 3-ton truck with an inch clearance for its tires, so I am looking forward to tackling Mt. Ellinor again. 

Farewell Picnic

The time of this has been imminent but shifting for the last six months as Mr. Duchess worked out his military path, but the time has finally come and Duchess moved out of state yesterday. They won't get housing until he is further in his training so her stuff is all still here, but she can stay with some of his extended family and see him on weekends. So. It was time. 

We decided last Sunday to gather everyone up and do a picnic in the park. We hadn't all been together since Christmas, as Dame is still living in Seattle with Bookworm awaiting the completed addition. And we hadn't done a picnic in the park since . . . I'm afraid it might have been pre-Covid. I took the kids on some local hikes during Covid but DOB was not doing well enough to venture out, and then when he was better everyone was bigger and busier and everything had changed. But when they were little it was something we did pretty much every week the weather was remotely tolerable. 

It made the most sense to meet up with Dame and go to a park in Seattle and it proved to be the sort of glorious spring day that occurs much more in fiction than in actuality. We had been to the Asian Art Museum last month and I thought it might be fun to visit the park around it, especially since there was an old water tower you could climb for a view of the city. When I saw how nice the day was I was worried it would be too crowded, but it was just pleasantly populated. 

However, by the time we arrived, DOB was in desperate need of finding the restrooms and parked near one, while Deux and Dame immediately hopped out of the car and made a beeline for the tower at the other end of the park. Dash and Duchess and I unloaded the folding chairs and lunch and then were trying to catch up, while DOB followed along in a faint hope that there would be a restroom at both ends of the park and he could watch the stuff while we climbed the tower. 

There was not a restroom at the other end of the park, nor was even the approach to the tower accessible, so DOB wheeled back to the other one by the car while the rest of us trailed the first two to the top of the tower, Dash and I ladened with three folding chairs and a cooler bag full of lunch. After we had briefly caught our breath and admired the view at the top of the tower, we all went pell-mell back down again, back across the park to the car only to encounter no sign of DOB along the way. 

At this point we had had about enough of walking about with everything and so we decided to just sit down where we were (there was plenty of nice grass handy) and hope DOB turned up. Dash went off to look for him but apparently they both just spent some time wandering separately on some of the trails and enjoying the view. Eventually everyone and the food all made it to the same location and we had lunch and a resounding game of 6-person Spades (scoring invented on the spot) and the sort of conversation that would horrify people if it were made into cute little cards to stimulate conversation but the more printable of which was, "If you swallowed sunglasses whole, would you be able to digest them?" (Which was itself a spin-off of, "If I swallowed your sunglasses, would they still be in the car?")

Like every perfect moment it was over far too quickly and it is a thing that will almost certainly never occur again, but also, to steal a bit from Winnie the Pooh, in an enchanted place on the top of the Forest, four little ducklings will always be playing. 

 

A Wedding

 This does feel like a full circle moment, as this blog was started shortly after our own wedding and also very shortly before we found out Duchess was on the way, and now here we are. 

Professional shot

Coming out for pictures

Dinner

 

I did manage to make it on time and all siblings were present and suitably, if somewhat eccentrically, attired. (Though I realized two-thirds of the way through the day that I was wearing a mismatched set of boots. I did bring a more wedding-ish pair of heels for the ceremony but I changed back out as soon as it was over because we were getting pretty deep in mud and also I hate heels.)
 

Between Duchess and DOB they managed to orchestrate a beautiful and well-organized wedding on four weeks' notice based on Mr. Duchess's ever-shifting departure date for the Air Force. (We have been racking our brains to come up with a good blog name, but Mr. Duchess will have to do for now.) 

Our family has a long-standing joke about our surprisingly good luck with outdoor wedding weather in our very uncertain climate as over the past twenty-some years we, Their Majesties, Toolboy and his wife and a couple of years ago the oldest girl cousin all have had outdoor weddings in either September or May and the weather has uniformly been delightful. While September weather around here is a transition from the desert dry of July and August to the rainforest rest of the year, heavy rain is quite unusual and there are many beautiful days or at least beautiful hours. So we were hopeful when the weather forecast a few scattered showers with clearing.  

That is not what happened. What happened was it rained buckets, starting during the rehearsal the night before, when we scrambled to cover the tables before the decor got soaked (though Duchess had already prepared for that contingency with plastic tarps). Continuing through the rehearsal dinner, which we were supposed to have on the deck of a local restaurant but by great luck their indoor group canceled and we got the event room. And then the following day it drizzled throughout getting ready and set up, poured during the pictures, let up to a light drizzle for the ceremony in the woods, poured again for the reception, and only finally ended in time for dancing and send-off after dark. We had a few canopies to cover the meal tables but mostly everyone just got soaked. And had a marvelous time doing it. 

It Has Been Too Long

Somebody (perhaps Lewis Carroll?) advised that one should never begin a letter with an apology for how long it had taken to write back, and I suppose the same should apply to blog posts. I took an actual Day Off this week, an extremely rare event, and even though I spent a pretty large part of it scrubbing the kitchen which was sustaining several new ecosystems, I took some time to sit about long enough to remember that I needed to hunt up photos for Duchess' graduation slideshow. And the only place I really have photos is on here.

I have always figured that one of my glaring failures as a mother would be a lack of photos for the graduation slideshow (since graduation classes at Duchess' and Dash's school generally consist of 4-6 seniors, everyone gets star billing), but I was pleased to discover I was able to supply quite a respectable number even before she turned 13 and started keeping her own. Of course, most of them have Deux in them but they are quite tolerant of each other these days. 

I don't know if other people find this about growing older, but I realize that I don't feel my life stretching behind me as a sequential thing. Myself as a 12 year old scrappy know-it-all and myself as a 25 year old new mother or a 36 year old trying to juggle everything are all still here and the people and the worlds of those times do not stretch out behind me in receding distance. They are like the blog posts, just around the corner. I could step into them at any time; I might go into a room and find my mother and grandfather deep in a friendly argument, or step into the back yard and find a troupe of little Ducklings constructing a monument to unspeakable chaos out of scrap lumber. I could, but somehow I don't. 

Instead, the former Ducklings remain distressingly tall (Duchess is the only one who is shorter than me, and likely to remain so at this point) and disconcertingly independent. Somehow, as attested by the datestamps on the blog posts, eighteen years of parenthood are behind me, and Duchess is about to graduate and start her first job and college, Deux is in Running Start (at which he needs absolutely no parental guidance whatsoever but fortunately he does still appreciate parents who will play a round of Magic: the Gathering), and the twins (Dot now prefers Dame, but Dash will always be Dash) will enter high school in the fall. I feel less prepared for parenting than I did at the beginning when the first panic of having a small human in care hit me--and yet somehow, incontrovertibly, we have made it this far. 

I never did get much better at the things I was bad at (I still have boxes and boxes in the garage of Miscellaneous Things I Didn't Have The Patience to Put Away). I have faced many challenges I never expected and given up on many things that were important. There were quite a lot of things I never got to until it was too late. We never did music lessons, or sports, or make beautiful nature journals with watercolors. We did much fewer read-alouds and much more screen time than I would have believed. But I still think--hope--I managed to hold onto everything that was truly essential. 

I spent a lot more of these past seven years working than I ever wanted. I can't get that time back and it hurts every time I think of it, though it was what was necessary. But I made quite a lot of good soup, and we still had a backyard (however overgrown) and books were at least about the place and everyone learned to hate bad grammar, verbal ambiguity, and Christmas songs before Thanksgiving. And DOB is doing better, mentally and physically, than he has in many years and is finally able to return to work. 

A fair portion of my work is estate planning and so I sit down with a lot of elderly people--often their children are older than I am--and they talk about their lives and families, and sometimes it's beautiful and sometimes it's heartbreaking. In the end, not a lot matters. Not the type of diapers or the dietary plan or (within reason) the type of discipline. If your children are honest and reasonably responsible and still on speaking terms with you, you have done about as well as anyone can hope for and been luckier than many. 

And since this is a good place for my pictures, here is one. It's actually a year old (from my oldest niece's wedding--I now have three married neiphlings and two great-neiphlings), so add an inch to Deux and three to Dash, but otherwise it's pretty on target .

Remembering

These are old pictures, from 2012. We had a photographer friend come and take a whole series of them, and they were beautiful. Somehow she managed to make our weedy backyard look like a fairyland and a broken bench look like a deliberate prop. At the time I was a little uncomfortable with the pictures. They felt dishonest. It had been a rough summer. I had sprained my foot in a way that persisted in not healing, and that had put too much strain on DOB. DOB was beginning to feel the cumulative effects of life on his feet in such a way that his beloved Camaro would have to be sold in the next month so that he could buy a truck and start using a wheelchair full time.  And that, in turn, precipitated a whole series of changes that still have us reeling and trying to find solid ground under our feet. It hadn't all happened yet that summer, but we could feel it coming.

Looking back on that year and those pictures, I realize they weren't dishonest. Our weedy backyard was a fairyland. DOB only got to enjoy his Camaro for a couple of months, but he did have it. The bad things happening were true, but so was the beauty. And I am glad we stopped to notice it. Because what do we have in life, at the end, but a few memories? And if we are lucky, we have held on to the beautiful ones.

A week ago Duchess and Deux finished up the drama workshop they like to do in the summers. It had a science-fiction theme, and they together played two heads of a three-headed monster; Deux was also a sample body for a mad scientist and Duchess a talking dog. We thoroughly enjoyed the show and then we went and got ice cream cones for everyone at Carter's, whose peppermint chip ice cream is otherworldly.

With a little difficulty about curbs--because fewer places are ADA compliant than you might think--we took our cones to a little gazebo by the water, where we watched dusk falling over the harbor in the soft coolness of the summer evening. It was a beautiful moment. It didn't make the worries about health and life and work and money go away, but nothing does. Life keeps needing to be lived. But it keeps bringing beautiful moments, too. And that is why we have words and pictures and hearts, to stop and take notice and hold onto those moments.

Actual Pictures!

Not *too* tidied up, because then you would not ever see them. And not of everywhere, because some places are not even tidyable enough for this. (The master bedroom still needs drywall, and texture, and paint, and . . . ) And there is still a great lack of Things On The Wall and color in genera. But there's enough to get the idea.
 

Kid desk area in the playroom

Girls' Bedroom. They have, unfairly, more pillows than anyone else.

Playroom. Still needs more bookshelves.

Boys' Bedroom. The most presentable angle.

Living/dining room. (A child is in MY chair!)

Back entry and piano. This is right opposite the kitchen.

Kitchen. Even messy it's still pretty roomy.

Schoolroom. It's honey, not cantaloupe

Backyard. This is the view from the kitchen window. There's a pond down there, with a rowboat and ducks.

Back deck and ramp. So far DOB has not driven off the edge, but it would be nice to get the rail up.

Random Adventures

Except for the pictures with the Duchess in them, these were taken by the Duchess. (The others were taken by our January visitor.) I only found out about the tabletop statues game when I was taking pictures off the camera.

It hasn't all been coughing

DOB did have the time to get the truck properly adorned. Though not fully washed.

O Christmas Tree

Last year Wondergirl and I made gingerbread cookies with the ducklings and they each decorated a few with the obligatory heaps of inedible candy and then scattered. This year we did it again and they stuck it out to the bitter end. Which means, of course, that all the gingerbread cookies are layered with heaps of inedible candy.  Still, all part of the fun, right? At least I couldn't find the chocolate sprinkles, because those would just be nasty on gingerbread.




Every year since we were first married, DOB has mentioned how he treasures the memory of the large, multi-colored lights on his grandma's Christmas tree. Every year I have ignored this (large multi-colored lights are so tacky!) and put up the tasteful white and gold ornaments I had before we were married. This year, after a friend mentioned that she and her husband have the same disagreement and settle it by alternating years, I realized that it was really most unfair of me to keep monopolizing the Christmas decor. And that the snowflake stuff was getting boring. So the Duchess helped us get colored lights and a few more balls, and my grandmother donated many colorful ornaments from her stash, and we went for full-on, old-fashioned, multi-colored garishness.

And it's beautiful. It's fun and homey and looks just like Christmas trees should look that are meant to serve as Christmas trees and not as decorations in the lobby. There's such a thing as too much good taste. Good thing I like it, because as DOB pointed out, I now owe him nine years of colored lights.

I haven't changed my mind about the candies on the gingerbread cookies, though. But at least I can pick them off before I eat them.

Around the block

We squeezed in another trip after summer had officially ended but before the rains came. This one took us all the way around the Olympic Peninsula. Our first stop was at Hurricane Ridge, where we at long last got to go up in the mountains. Everybody is sketching pictures of forest fires in the picture, although there were none visible that day. (There was some smoke blowing over from the Cascades, though. Canada looked pretty hazy.) DOB had the excitement of driving down mountain roads in a new truck with hand controls. We all got to practice being very, very quiet.

The next day we had wanted to go all the way out to Neah Bay, Cape Flattery and the northwesternmost corner of the state (and the contiguous United States), but we decided it was too far of a drive. Instead we settled on lunch at Lake Crescent, which is a dazzling blue lake dropped in the middle of the mountains (and conveniently located right off Highway 101).

We spent the next two nights in a vacation rental on the Bogachiel River, relaxing, throwing rocks in the river, and feeding cows.

Then we ventured on south, to the Hoh Rain Forest. (That's a fallen tree the kids are walking down, in case you can't tell.) It felt pretty dry, for the rain forest, but everything has its season.

Ron managed to persuade a camp robber (gray jay) to eat off his hat. You had to eat fast if you wanted to keep your sandwich.

Our last two nights were down in Pacific Beach and were less photogenic. We took advantage of YMCA reciprocality, found out our favorite nature center was closed during the week, and spent a couple more hours at the beach, which, surprisingly, still had plenty of sand. We did what we could to remedy that, and we watched "Pirates of Penzance" (kids) "The Princess Bride" (everybody, minus the ROUS and Pit of Despair), and "Horatio Hornblower" (grownups).

What I do with my summer vacation

Bookworm is somewhat at loose ends until college starts in the fall, so she offered to come over and help me with organizational things. I organize much better if there is another adult person in the house, ready to tell me, "Yes, throw it away!" (unlike the children who inevitably think of thirty new uses for it.) Also, Bookworm is an engineer, and therefore was able to figure out how to combine two old, odd-shaped bookcases into one bookcase the right shape for the space--and also how to stabilize it so it would not fall over. This involved using my hand saw and the end of  a board we found lying around and the edge of the porch and my foot. (I used my bad foot so if it got injured things would not be significantly worse.) So, now I have--at no extra cost--a school shelf that is actually deep enough to hold school-type materials, which makes me very, very happy.

In the meantime, the kids were busy with the pool, specifically with filling the entire pool with dirt, rocks, and bicycles.  They like to do that kind of thing.

Four on the . . . Dash?

Where one turns four, the other is sure to follow. It's about the only instance in which they follow each other. Dash has grown from the clingiest of the ducklings to the one who will be off playing alone outside for hours. He loves being outside, loves dirt and trucks and riding bikes and moving rocks and waving sticks. (Dot does sometimes join him, in her alter ego as Rose Redhand.)

He can be very happy, or very upset--but whatever he is, it's very. He also love stories, especially Winnie-the-Pooh, but he identifies with Roo. We tried to pin him as Tigger, but he prefers Roo--which is, after all, a small, cuddly version of Tigger. He's listening to The Hobbit and waiting eagerly for the appearance of the dragon.

He's impatient for me to buy him a new pair of boots that don't leak.

Four on the Dot

She turned four this week, with much fanfare, because when you turn four you know what birthdays are all about. And because Dot does everything with much fanfare. Her life is one long dramatic saga, narrated under her breath.
Most of all she loves to draw, and draw, and draw. What's even more amazing, her drawings are fully recognizable, detailed, and properly proportioned. Mostly princesses, with the occasional unicorn. She's starting to want to add labels to her drawings, so she is always asking how to write letters and she perseveres even if the word is "CINDERELLA."

Her favorite stories, not too surprisingly, are Rapunzel, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty, although she has a deep sense of identity with Piglet and she also loves A. A. Milne's poetry, and will recite snatches.

Busy

We have survived drama camp. Duchess didn't survive, of course: she had a great time. But the whole getting-up-and-out-the-door every morning is like kryptonite to homeschool moms. (So, other homeschool moms, when you're feeling snooty about school moms wondering what they are going to do with their kids all summer, remember they've got SHOES on everyone's feet by 7:30 in the morning and they can't understand why you think that's hard.)

Duchess as a grubby little orphan.

In other news, we had a brief but violent cold go around last week that had everybody moping about in misery on the third. (Even Duchess, who sat out the rehearsal, came home, and slept most of the rest of the day.) I was panicking about the Fourth, but everyone woke up energetic and cheerful, if a tad sniffly, and the weather (which had been cold and dreary all through June) was gorgeous and we had a fabulous day on Whidbey Island, the children spending pretty much the entire time in the lagoon. But they did not get pneumonia.

I caught the cold on the way home, though, and spent the evening lying in bed with chills trying to drown out the sound of fireworks--and of kids screaming at the fireworks, especially since they had found the best place to watch was my window. Most of the fever went away by morning, but I felt pretty dreary for the next few days.

Meanwhile my work-work has been piling up and I haven't even begun on the basement (except a few desperate moments with a bulldozer to clear enough path to walk) and, oh yes, another birthday today! Actually, two! And Summer Fun nights (our church's once-a-week alternative to VBS) start this week! And I think I'm kind of directing it!

So I'm blogging.

I Give Up

Christmas play with impromptu costumes

*A Winter's Tale* in Lego

Lego robots.

Why yes, that is an angel food cake pan.

The Duchess's birthday cake.

I bought a new camera cord. Surprisingly, the old one still hasn't shown up. Anyway, here's pictures from the last six months.

Eight

Birthday season has begun. And our first and biggest birthday girl turned eight last Friday. There are many good things about turning eight. For one, no more booster seats!

For two, you are old enough for the summer drama programs! The Duchess will be performing in "Annie, Jr." at the local theater the weekend after next and she has been gone every morning, practicing singing and dancing. When she's home, she's usually busy marking up her libretto or belting out "Tomorrow."

It's been amazing to me to watch how she handles this. It's the first time for me, letting my kid go out and do something with total strangers. And she just does it. Asks questions when she needs to. Lets me know what she needs. She's taking on the world (or at least this little slice of it) by herself, with confidence and poise, and it's great to watch.

At home, she still loves to draw, read, organize elaborate fantasy games, and help me organize and plan.

Same, in pictures

The story behind these pictures is that on our way out the door, we couldn't find the camera. (I still can't find it.) But the camera had served us well for many years and the buttons had been jamming for awhile, so we decided to replace it with another basic model, which we picked up at the Evil Store of Evil on the way out.

So DOB happily took pictures through the trip, and although things looked bad at one point, we did not use up the charge on the one included pair of batteries (I forgot to buy any extras).

Then we got home. I unpacked everything. No camera cord. I panicked. I distinctly remembered coming across the camera packaging in the hotel room and asking myself, "Should I throw this away?" and thinking, "No, it has all the important camera stuff in it!" Unfortunately, after that, my memory was completely silent on the topic of camera packaging.

I tried our other camera cords (Duchess bought her own small camera, too), but none fit. In a panic, I searched online and discovered the cord cost $15 before shipping and tax and wasn't in stock anywhere. I finally emailed DOB in despair: Had he seen the camera stuff anywhere. Half an hour later, he replied tersely: "It's in the car."

In the car? But I had unloaded all the luggage! How did he know? Was he just saying it to make me feel better? Still, I did feel a little better.

That evening, he arrived home and tossed me the box, whose appearance I had completely forgotten. Oh yeah. That box. The one that was sitting on the dashboard and fell in my lap every time we accelerated.

So, anyway, here are pictures.