vacation, migration

QUESTION: What do you do on your vacation when it rains 10 days straight (torrential downpours for hours)? ANSWER: Get out your mushroom guide, your rubber boots, and watch the storms roll in. Think this is a haunted house? Hardly. Rather a stormy 7pm in August. These photos were taken about three minutes apart in our dooryard. We quickly took shelter on the porch where we were dazzled by yet another eye and ear stunning tempest.

I try to take August vacation at home, a growing trend called "stay-cations." Millions of people migrate here for vacations, and I already live here. It's one of the precious opportunities of a rural, remote lifestyle. The persistent rain allowed me to hear large volumes of live music and read ravenously instead of the usual painting, haying, logging, and trail clearing. Did a lot of swimming too, which seemed a vertical in addition to a horizontal experience this year.

We had our annual visit to a nearby lake where a dear college friend has a family camp. Flash floods caused the lake level to rise two feet the day before we got there. I saw whole trees with a dbh of 8 inches (that's diameter at breast height for non-forester types) spit out by brooks and beached sideways on deltas, leaves, roots and all. The inundated shoreline sure made it easier to get in and out of the canoes, on the grass instead of the dock. I was a bit unaccustomed to removing sticks and other woody debris from my hair after swimming, though.

Mushrooms were spectacular! Several soggy hikes yielded so many shapes and colors. Coral-colored coral mushrooms, really. Orange and green Pfifferlinge look-alikes. Savory Steinpils. Chanterelle. Along the river, I had fun making up bizarre common names. Troll Tongue. Frog Futon. Southern Belle Parasol. Raccoon Eyes At Night, the whole extended family. Tired Toadstools. I could just imagine all the toads being excited about all the extra forest furniture this year!

The biggest gift this vacation was seeing migrating Sandhill Cranes. Wow! My exceptional, ornithologically inclined nephew would have been thrilled (although he sees them regularly where he lives out west). There was no question what they were--red forehead, white cheek, tail bustle, gray with reddish brown streaks. Two adults with two juveniles which were slightly browner, slightly smaller. Sandhill Cranes summer in Alaska, Northwest Territories, and north-central Canadian provinces. They winter in Texas and Mexico, generally, and some go to Florida, NOT New England. I've only seen them in Wyoming and Idaho.

I was tagging along with some of the other moms on a blueberry picking mission while our kids were at camp. I saw the cranes in a field, my heart skipped, and I stuttered, "Those are Sandhill Cranes." I might as well have said there's a loaf of white bread out there. I said, "We need to turn the van around, really." They said, "We're going to be late." I said the same thing over again, so they humored me. Luckily, we had binoculars and a camera in the van as we watched, awed, by the side of the road. After speed-picking blueberries, and driving back the same way, other cars were pulled over with people toting monstrous viewing lenses. Awed, all over again.

I feel so relaxed after my two-week vacation, and best of all, the migration came to me!

Drenched Dragonflies

August is Dragon Boat racing time, and my team the Dragonflies raced for a second year. Dragon Boat racing involves 20 paddlers, one crazy drummer, and one steerage expert to maneuver 40-foot-long dragon boats attired with painted, carved dragon heads and tails. The Dragon Boat Festival is organized by Dragonheart, a breast cancer survival group that raises funds for breast cancer awareness, treatment, and care. I was instantly inspired last year when I saw a festival announcement flier and began the arduous task of recruiting. The festival races two types of teams: breast cancer survivor teams from around North America and local community teams, most of which are corporate. Amidst a field of 80 community teams, the Dragonflies were one of the few all women's teams, although each team required at least eight women paddlers.

It was a wet affair this year. It was raining when I got up 4:30am to get to the waterfront. It was raining when I returned home at 5pm. I wondered why after all my extensive wilderness survival training and experience I chose to wear such a large volume of cotton, which I shed later that afternoon after finally reaching chill point. Honestly, the rain hardly dented the spirit of the festival. Nearly 2000 paddlers danced in the warm rain and we spoke of transforming it into liquid sunshine.

What I really like about this event is that it is not about strength, rather it is about synchronicity. That, and it is a heart rush to feel these large boats plane and rise out of the waves under arm power. While we did not win a cup, we gained comaderie and many, many smiles. That said, we won in the spirit category--last year for best overall banner, this year for best T-shirt. Another satisfying "win" was during the practice paddle a few weeks ago. We practiced racing against a corporate team of 20-something-year-old men and women....and we crossed the finish line first. What a sweet moment for our team of one third 30-somethings, one third 40-somethings, and one third 50-somethings. Murmured comments of old, flabby moms rock made me laugh. As I said before, it's all about synchronicity, not strength or attitude.

To see and HEAR what the races look like, visit the Dragonheart Vermont website. Immediately below the center homepage photo it says "Click here for Audio Slideshow of the Dragon Boat Festival." http://www.ridethedragon.org/

purple and pink

....with a twist of orange. Purple, pink, and sometimes orange are undoubtedly my daughter's favorite colors. This purple hat, her favorite, is a hand-me-down from her friend in Montana, Bri. Bri is short for Kolibri, the Spanish word for hummingbird, because her pre-natal heartbeat sounded like a hummingbird. Bri's mom, Marcy, is a best friend from college.

My daughter wore her favorite colors and hat for camp at the Green Mountain Audubon Center where she learned about migratory birds. She learned different bird calls. Pretty, pretty, pretty is a cardinal. Yank, yank is a nuthatch. Cheeseburger, cheeseburger is a spring chickadee. That's her favorite sound, and she likes to eat them too. We listened to a robin at home and decided that it sounded like chip, chip.

At camp, she also practiced different modes of flight with her wings--soaring, flapping, and hovering. Fabric wings worked much better than Icharus' wax and feathers, and it was more fun too, understandably. Camp session is appropriately named Wings and Things.

a divine visitor

A few weeks ago, we were fortunate to be visited by a Cecropia moth (Hyalophora cecropia). It found its way through an open window in a beautiful, sunny, three-bedroom house that my husband designed and is building nearby. He gently captured the moth and brought it for us to see. Cecropias are silkworm moths and are the largest moths in North America. This moth had a wingspan of 6 inches and looked gigantic perched quietly on my daughter's hip. Cecropias are in the Saturniidae family, and you can just picture stars and planets on its graceful wings.

As the sky turned duskier, the Cecropia moth started to perk up, since it is nocturnal. As we released it, we were so surprised how fast it flew. It rapidly shot up quite high into the sky and looked like a dark evening bird flapping strongly above the trees. We waved sweet goodbyes to our friend.

summer cherries

Seven years after planting a sour cherry tree, we finally harvested a real crop of red delight. As Aven and I pitted cherries on the porch, sweet red juice ran down our elbows and knees. Then, with pink fingers, we baked a fresh cherry pie sweetened with a little maple syrup and wove a lattice crust on top. Afterwards, we read the children's book Cherries and Cherry Pits by Vera B. Williams, and recorded it in Aven's reading diary.

We have been participating in the national summer reading program Catch the Reading Bug, where kids keep a reading diary over the summer. The diary is illustrated with beachside bugs engrossed in books by Harry Bliss, a Vermont illustrator who did the great bugs et al in Diary of a Worm, Diary of a Fly, and Diary of a Spider by Doreen Cronin.

We froze the leftover cherries so we can enjoy a bit of summer this winter in a pie and some cherries jubilee!