Wow. What a week. I've meant to post long before now, but I just haven't had the chance. I meant to write a long, in-depth post about my second journey to Lake Crescent, last Sunday, but i think I'll limit my discussion to a few brief points.
The day started out gray and gloomy, i.e. Aaron's favorite sort of day. Kay and I met up with Maggie, who works on the farm on Fridays, and the rest of the week at the Olympic Park Institute. We went to Salt Creek at Crescent Bay? and walked amongst the tide pools for a couple of hours. It was fascinating, and Maggie and her friends are amazingly knowledgeable; working for the Institute they are used to sharing that knowledge.
After our fun amongst the tide pools we headed to Lake Crescent, and the Institute. This is where I began to realize that I wasn't going to have a just another fun day of hiking, but something better, more satisfying. The sun came out during our travel time, and the wind picked up. The lake was as blue as can be imagined, and it's normally glassy surface was rippled with a constant stream of whitecaps. The institute is the very stereotype of a summer camp, lodges and cabins on the lakeside; it evoked an instant nostalgia, of the sort the recalls every camp memory, and the whole coming of age genre of movies and literature.
We walked along the lake, and through the woods to Merrymere falls, which you may recall I've been to before, although from a different direction. Once we reached the falls, Maggie leaned over surreptitiously, and mentioned that there was a way to get to the top of the falls, but the trail wasn't an official path. I wasn't about to pass up that chance, so we hiked, and got a view that I'm sure far fewer people ever get to see. it was really magical. There's something about being on the mountainside in the PacNorWe, that I find profoundly satisfying. Every time I find myself there I feel like I would be happy to never leave.
After our hike was done we went onto Le Sage, an old home on the shore of Lake Crescent, owned by the park, and leased on a rotating basis to the educators who work at the institute. The whole time we were there I stared in disbelief that this amazing home, with a view as fine as any in the world, I'm sure, that these people, my peers, or younger, got to live in this place, and that their job is to teach an endless succession of schoolkids their love of the natural world in general, and this one place in particular. It makes me really happy to know that such a place exists outside of Hollywood, or our imaginations, this archetypal place where group after group of kids have formative experiences in an environment that is still seems unreal to me.
That was the short version. Sheesh, listen to me ramble on. So what's happening on the farm, you ask? We've gotten a lot done lately. Planted a field of winter sqaush, and got a whole mess of weeding done. We've been having an stretch of sunny days lately which means, we've had to spend more time than usual moving the water around. Kelly's planning on upgrading the irrigation in the next week, which will be a real help for all of us.
There was a formative farm experience on Wednesday? I was sitting in the Johnston farm Internet Cafe(the Gazebo), when Kay and Ruth came around the corner to ask for my help. The chicken had all somehow gotten out of teh coop. We spent the next half an hour catching chickens. I was mostly herding, while Ruth caught most of them. She's the last intern of the season, a classically trained violinist, who dates one of the Johnston's neighbors, who happens to be an incredible fiddler in his own right. She had chickens when she was younger so has chicken catching skills that make mine look strictly amateurish.
I caught one of the two roosters, the handome Bantam, and got him back into their area, and turned around in time to see Kay and Ruthie pulling the other rooster, the gorgeous white one, from under Kay's car, dead. It was a sad moment, but we had chicken to catch, so we didn't really consider what to do with him, until we got teh rest of the hens recaptured. Once we had done that, I presented Kelly with the deceased cock, and he said that we needed to bury it deep in the compost, unless one of us wanted to deal with the business of turning it from lievstock into food.
The girls, being vegetarian and vegan, opted to skip that, but after a moment's hard consideration, I volunteered to do the dirty work. Kelly was surprised, I think, but It seemed more respectful of me, to do what had to be done. Kelly helped with the initial butchery, removing the head, tail, and wings, and leaving me to remove the feathers, and to finish teh butchery. I think that though he's obviously killed a chicken or two in his day, it's clearly not a job he relished. I was amazed by how little the whole process botehred me. I ended up the evening spattered with blood, and with feathers stuck here and there.
I dressed teh bird and got it into the fridge, and spent the next two days making the best stock I've ever made in my life, using every trick and technique in my,rather impressive, he says, modestly, arsenal. Then I made matzoh balls. Everyone said that soup was the only thing the rooster would be any good for, and while it's true that the breasts were a little tough, they tasted quite good, and the thighs and drumsticks, even after half a day in the stock pot were flavored quite nicely.
I liked that rooster, you have to understand. I thought he was beautiful, a proud creature, and one with whom I shared the sunrise for the last month and a half. I did what I did out of a sense of obligation. A need to ensure that though it was sad that he died an untimely death, at least it would not be totally in vain, and that I would derive nourishment, physical and mental from the occurence.
Still having a great time out here; had a couple of particularly stressful days this week, but we worked through them, and will keep trying to get as much done as we can. In addition to winter sqaush we finally got the summer sqaush and cucumbers in the ground, and transplanted the bush tomatoes out into teh field. The wheat has started to sprout, and the potatoes have been hilled up. The straweberries are starting to come ripe, and there can be no doubt that summer has arrived in the PacNorWe at last.
David is in Bellingham, and we're going to figure out a way to get together, hopefully soon. I'm excited at the prospect of seeing him again after so long.
I love you all, and I'm still working on answering e-mails; I know it's been awhile for some of you, but I promise they are coming, but I've been busy, and it doesn't seem like the work will be slowing down anytime in the near future. Love y'all, miss you, and hope you're well. Next time, I'll tackle some more faqs(frequently, heh). I'll leave you with a few pics to tide you over until next time, mi familia, .
The latest loaves, a challah, and a buckwheat pain au levain:
Cucumbers, and summer sqaush:
Look at how my peas have grown:
A tidepool, I know it's hard to convey scale in an image like this, but those sea stars were all about the size of a record album:
This is the second time I've been to Merrymere falls, and I managed to snap a single pic for your enjoyment, but I hardly think it manages to capture the experience:
And in closing, strawberries, most of which I ate with the cream that separated out of my milk, this morning for breakfast:
In closing, Happy Father's Day, Papa Miguel, I love you.
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