Sarah Wynde's Blog, page 53

Black Moshannon State Park

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An ocean of ferns

Bugs.

Allergies.

Rain.

No internet or cell connection, except for fleeting moments of a moving Verizon signal that disappears almost immediately.

No water at the campsite.

Ten miles up a steep and winding road, away from grocery stores and other conveniences.

At $31/night, not cheap. In fact, by my standards, reasonably expensive.

And did I mention the bugs? Not just mosquitoes and ticks, but these incredibly annoying buzzing flies that dive bomb my head, seeming to try to get into my ears. I told myself I was being unduly paranoid, that it was just the way they fly, but after multiple unpleasant walks, really, I think they’re trying to get into my ears. They are madly annoying!

Speaking of paranoia, based mostly on the posted signs, I’ve been worried about four things here.

In order of probability:

1) Poison ivy

2) Lyme disease

3) Someone scolding me for walking my dog in the wrong place

4) Encountering a black bear

In order of danger/potential damage:

1) Lyme disease

2) Encountering a black bear

3) Poison ivy

4) Someone scolding me for walking my dog in the wrong place

In order of how much I’ve worried:

1) Someone scolding me for walking my dog in the wrong place

… tied for a distant 2nd, poison ivy, Lyme disease, black bears.

Seriously, sometimes my brain annoys me. I suppose it’s good that I’m not obsessing on black bears, but the posted pet rules say there are off-limit areas for pets. The only one I’ve seen is the playground. On every walk, between trying to wave off bugs and cover my ears, I’ve wondered whether I’ve missed a sign and some ranger is going to appear out of nowhere and tell me I shouldn’t be where I am. And if one did? So what! It’s not like it would result in days of itching or emergency room visits or a life-changing, debilitating illness. And yet… I worry anyway. What a waste of energy.

The park is actually beautiful. The campground is thoroughly forested, the kind of place where you can easily envision black bears and other wildlife happily roaming. A short walk away, there’s a dark lake with a sandy beach and a swimming area marked with buoys. Kayak rentals are $12/hour, $10 if you pay cash. On my first day here, I thought it would be a great place to bring my niece next summer, but then the bugs started attacking and I thought better of it. But I do think in a different mood or in a different time of year, I’d like this place a lot more. Maybe just a better bug repellent would do it.

And the campsites are nice — flat, graveled, spacious, with trees separating one from the next. Mid-week, even in July, it’s pretty empty. I can see another camper from my spot, but just one. I’ve got no next-door or across-the-road neighbors. Clean showers, with lots of hot water and great water pressure.

But the best part of it, for me, has been hours spent seriously working on Grace. Rainy days + unpleasant walks + no internet = plenty of time spent staring at the computer screen. I haven’t yet admitted to you, oh darling readers, that at the end of June I went back to the beginning and started over, (I know, I know), but I have a solid first three chapters on this fresh start now. I’ve also written probably several thousand words that I won’t be using, but they answer questions and fix the plot holes that have nagged at me for years. It feels like progress and even if it’s not really progress, it feels like satisfying work. Yes, someday I’d like all this work to actually produce a product that will earn me some money, but it feels good to be immersed in the story anyway.

And now back to it!

Duck, North Carolina

I’ve been meaning to blog every day this week. In fact, I think I’ve started a post every morning! But something always gets in the way and the something is always really nice. That’s because I’m currently on a family vacation in Duck, North Carolina, with my brother, SIL, niece, nephew, and SIL’s aunt and uncle. My SIL’s sister is supposed to be here, too, but she hasn’t made it yet. Maybe later today. Plus, my stepsister and her family live nearby, and my dad and stepmom are staying with them, so I’m being very sociable.

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The house we’re staying at is easy walking distance to a very nice beach and equally easy walking distance to an extremely cute town with a great boardwalk. It has a swimming pool, plus three sides with sometimes-sunny balconies. I’ve got about a zillion pictures of gorgeous beach skies that I could post, plus almost as many appealing food photos. Well, okay, maybe not a zillion food photos.

And if you’re not interested in food, you can probably skip the rest of this post! I’ve been doing the cooking, which has, of course, been very fun for me. I was going to just write about my favorite meal, but then I couldn’t decide which one it was. But for my own future reference, here’s what we ate:

On our first night, I grilled chicken marinated in yogurt and garlic and honey, and served it with quinoa mixed with goat cheese and green onion. We also had a raw veggie tray that included red, yellow, and orange peppers, radishes, broccoli, carrots, pea pods, and cherry tomatoes.

On our second night, we had flank steak, corn-on-the-cob, roasted potatoes, and green salad. I also made two appetizers: quinoa cheese puffs, served with sour cream; and caprese skewers, i.e. a cherry tomato, basil, and mozzarella on a toothpick, topped with a balsamic reduction.

On the 4th of July, we went to my stepsister’s house for burgers and hot dogs. I brought a chick pea salad with cherry tomatoes, parsley, and a honey vinaigrette; a quinoa salad with red onion, black beans, corn, cilantro, and a yogurt-based dressing; deviled eggs; and some more of the caprese skewers. Oh, and a blueberry-covered goat cheese, with gluten-free crackers.

On Wednesday, we ate grilled pork chops with a garlic-mint-salt rub; roasted potatoes; salad of mixed greens, tomato, cucumber, and goat cheese with a balsamic fig vinaigrette; and the leftover quinoa and chickpea salads. Appetizer of crackers, goat cheese, and fig spread.

Thursday night, we had make-your-own tacos with possible fillings of shredded chicken cooked with salsa, flank steak, grilled pork, black beans, red onions, guacamole, salsa, lettuce, tomatoes, green onions, cilantro, sour cream, and shredded cheese. Oh, and I made a salad of tomatoes, mozzarella and a reduction of the balsamic fig vinaigrette. And I made a tray of nachos, too. That was meant to be an appetizer, but it didn’t really work out that way.

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Today I’ll be making some vegan chili and some gluten-free cornbread and we’ll finish off some of the salads. And I think maybe I’ll make the quinoa cheese puffs again, although we’re out of shredded cheese. But I’d like some shredded cheese for the chili, so I guess I’m headed off to the store.

Every day has been busy. I’ve gone to the beach every day, most often with Zelda, but once with both dogs, and once entirely sans dogs, which was fun because I got to actually go swimming and the water was perfect. There was a parade on the 4th, live music last night, outings for ice cream more than once. I’ve wandered around the town with my brother, my father, and my SIL, all on separate occasions. I’ve floated in the pool, and I’ve also played in the pool. My nephew and I were having float races yesterday, including one where we were each holding a dog and I laughed so hard I almost fell into the water. Lots of walking, lots of water, lots of sun, lots of cooking, lots of family. Not a lot of time for blogging or writing, but that’s okay — next week I’ll be back at it!

This week has been golden, glorious summer. And now it’s time to go swim!

Best of June 2017

I’ve only been in three spots this month: the garden house, NYC, and Frances Slocum State Park. Although technically, I’ve spent a few nights in my brother’s guest bedroom when it has been just too hot to stay in Serenity, so maybe that’s a fourth spot. Either way, picking a “Best of” place is impossible, because each was great in different ways.

NYC was a terrific tourist weekend. It didn’t feel like real life at all, and I didn’t try to get any work done — we just touristed hard. If I was judging the best of the month based only on being a tourist (well, and maybe on the deliciousness of the food I was eating), New York would have to win. But Frances Slocum was time hanging out with my niece, and I so adore her — she’s great company. And then the garden house has been a delightful place to spend time.

Hmm, I think I need to try a different approach to my best of this month. Instead of best place, best moments:

Picking blueberries with my brother in companionable silence.
Talking to my niece about friendship and names and shoe fashions.
Playing video games, specifically Skyforge, with my nephew.
Watching my friend completely geek out about classic cars in NYC.
Watching the fireflies at the garden house.

I’m not sure those are in the right order, but they’re the moments I hope I remember from June of 2017.

Happy Birthday, Serenity

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Serenity at the garden house

Technically, of course, the van’s birthday must be a couple months ago. She would have been built in Iowa, shipped to Florida, and she sat on the dealer’s lot for at least a couple of weeks before I signed the papers. But one year ago today was the day she came home with me.

Of course, pretty much the very next day, I brought her straight back to the dealer and said, “Um, I don’t think water is supposed to pour in through the roof when it rains,” but that’s neither here nor there.

It would still be close to another month before I closed on my house and started traveling, but here’s what I’ve learned in my first year of #vanlife.

1) Temperature control is a perpetual challenge. It easily gets about ten degrees hotter inside the van than it is outside, which is lovely when it’s 60 degrees outside and not fun at all when it’s 80 degrees outside. I’ve learned some tricks — always put the window covers up and the shades down, close the bathroom doors when the AC is on — but long-term, I also need to invest in some curtains to close off the cab and some USB fans to improve air flow. And I need to plan my travels better so I can avoid places/times where the heat is dangerous for the dogs.

2) Campgrounds are dirty. The dogs don’t care. I do. I’m getting better at acceptance, but clean sheets have become a luxurious treat.

3) I don’t need much stuff, but the stuff I do own grows to fill the available room. It feels like a continual process of pruning. I did expect by this time that all the vintage china I was traveling with would have broken and I’d be needing new dishes, but not so much. I think I broke one plate and a bowl, and I definitely gave away a few dishes to empty out the cupboards, but the china has worked out otherwise. I like it very much.

4) I also expected that my eating habits would change, but I didn’t know how. It turns out that I eat a lot of cold, fairly simple food — roast beef rolled up with arugula, turkey topped with artichoke spread, that kind of thing. Also, a lot more eggs. But the longer I live in the van, the less limited I feel about what I can cook. I’m not sure I could do a Thanksgiving dinner — it would have to be a pretty small turkey, and the scheduling involved in serving all the food hot would be tough to pull off — but short of that, I could probably cook some serious meals. If I wasn’t worried about heating up the van, that is.

5) Time flies by when you’re living in a van. I really can’t believe it’s been a year. I thought back then that by now I might have figured out where I want to live and be ready to settle down somewhere — a year sounds like plenty of time to be living on the road, doesn’t it? — but I’m nowhere close. I’ve enjoyed my month of mostly sitting still, but I’m looking forward to many more of my cautious adventures.

I guess I don’t have any particularly profound insights. A few more: birds are cool and worth watching; I like sunrises better than sunsets; grocery stores are pretty much the same across the country; and I should stop waiting to do things (like put up curtains) with the idea that I’ll do them when I get “home” because I am home.

Okay, one insight (still not terribly profound, I expect): a year ago, I plunged into the unknown. I was excited and I was scared. I scurried around with lists and to-do items and schedules and structure to try to cope with the vast looming uncertainties. I avoided thinking too far ahead even as I contemplated destinations like the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. I was sure that there would be good parts and bad parts, and I tried not to focus too much on the possibility of the bad parts. In fact, when I made the decision, I wrote, “But ten years from now, I want to look back and think, “Wow, you might have been crazy, but you sure were brave.”

I wasn’t crazy. This journey, this life, this year has been amazing. It’s not always comfortable and it’s not always easy and yes, stuff has gone wrong and there have been some bad days along the way, but the good has so outweighed the bad.

My aunt sent me a quote this week with a note that said, “This is you.” The quote was from Howard Thurman, who wrote: Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go out and do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

Yes.

I didn’t know a year ago that that’s what I was doing, and that this journey would be as much about celebrating my breakfast every morning and walking three miles a day as it would be about visiting national parks — well, actually more about the former, since I have yet to set foot in a single national park, ha — but yes. Letting go of my house and my stuff and my routine has been like waking up to a life of wonder and appreciation.

It wasn’t the best decision of my life (which is an honor forever and always reserved to my response when faced with an unplanned, terribly-timed pregnancy), but it comes really, really close.

So, yeah, Happy Birthday, Serenity! May we celebrate many more together.

The garden house

Still at the garden house, still writing, still frustrated with Noah. I pulled out all the chapters from his point-of-view and read them in order, trying to decide whether his characterization works to lead him to the actions that he simply will not take in the chapter I’m trying to write. They don’t, not quite, and I found lots of things to change, so I’m working on some revisions. But it feels like progress, so that’s good, even if it’s still not finalizing a first draft.

I had an enormously complicated dream last night, the kind with lots of characters, lots of confusing activity, and all the feels. Mostly it felt stressful and worrying, not quite a nightmare, but closing in on one. Toward the end of the dream, I had to choose the right pair of shoes from a pile of them, all impractical. I knew I had to find a pair that fit right, that would be comfortable for lots of walking as we escaped from whatever disaster we were escaping from, but I had to hurry. So I grabbed a pair, hoping for the best, and headed toward the place where I was meeting the people I would try to escape with. On the way, I passed through a ballroom, crowded with boxes and bags and piles of luggage. There was a guy there, dressed like a workman. He had a Jamaican accent and gold teeth and he said to me, with a bright smile, “Those shoes are made for dancing.” I said, “Is that an invitation?” He said, “Of course,” and held out his arms, so I stepped into them and danced with him. For the first moment, I was stiff and tense, and then I relaxed and let him whirl me around the room, closing my eyes and trusting that he wouldn’t let me stumble or trip. He didn’t. It felt like floating.

When I woke up, I was smiling. I am pretty sure the message from my subconscious is to stop worrying about getting the right shoes (i.e., making exactly the right choices) and to relax and dance. Good job, subconscious. It has definitely made for a lovelier Monday morning.

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My imaginary future bedroom

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Just one of the reasons why I would have to write a lot of successful books before my imaginary future bedroom could become mine.

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Frances Slocum Redux

I’m watching the rain out the window right now, trying to motivate myself to be productive. So far it’s not working. Watching rain is nicely hypnotic, but it makes me feel more like sleeping than writing. And unfortunately, I did a really, really stupid thing this week — I read A Lonely Magic.

I try not to be mean to myself, but every time I stare at my Grace file now, the mean words start running through my head. I need Noah to get to work. He’s got things to do. Instead, my imagination wants to play in Sia Mara. Worse, I want to go back and fix things in ALM, instead of writing the next book! Sigh.

When I wasn’t trying to write, I had a really nice week. It included video game time with my nephew — I’m a little obsessed with a game called SkyForge right now; camping and kayaking with my niece; and much berry picking with my brother. We’ve hit the stage of the summer where the berries are getting ripe faster than they can be eaten. If I had a bigger freezer, I’d be filling it with an easy summer’s worth of berries. As it is, I did look at the blueberries on my counter last night and think, “nope, no more berries.” Not sure that’s ever happened to me with blueberries before. Fortunately, my blueberry ennui wore off by morning.

Camping with my niece was lovely. We spent two nights up at Frances Slocum State Park, which is a park I visited last summer, including a stop at the cemetery where a few dozen of our ancestors, including some of her great-great-great-grandparents, are buried. There’s something inherently romantic, I think, in the idea of great-great-great-grandparents, but I had a weird little moment of shock when I realized that my niece is entirely a child of the 21st century. The 20th century is just as much history to her as the 19th. So obvious, I know, but still…

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Frances Slocum State Park

Most of our “camping” time was really more like cozy, hanging-out-in-a-tiny-house time. We read our books, we played on our iPads, and we watched movies* — not exactly the campfire – tent – backpack scenario. But we did go for a nice walk, and we kayaked, and she came home with eleven or possibly twelve bug bites, so it was close enough to camping.

But this is not really close enough to writing, so time for me to get back to the real words. If I stare at my file for long enough, Noah is bound to do something, right?

*I must add a teeny-tiny vent about Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: Spoilers Ahead.

WTF? Obviously, it’s not the first time JK Rowling has written about abused children, but the ending left me… horrified. And then creeped out. Yay, happy bakery, but what the hell happens to the little girl left traumatized and cowering under a desk? I think my niece was disappointed by my response — she likes the movie — but I told her that sometimes being a mom gets in the way of appreciating movies where children are treated badly. And that one — just ugh. Despite my spoiler warning, I’m reluctant to say exactly what happens, but suffice to say I disapproved. Vehemently.

Pennsylvania summer

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The fireflies were out last night. I had that moment of blinking disbelief — what was that light? was I really seeing what I was seeing? — and then I realized what they were. Tiny yellow sparks in shadowy darkness, flickering in and out, in a warm summer breeze. Such a magical element of a Pennsylvania summer.

Some of the blueberries are ripe. So are the blackberries. So are the red raspberries. So are the yellow raspberries. The gooseberries and the grapes are not. It’s really interesting to watch the berries ripen — the blueberries, in particular, grow in a cluster, all of which get ripe at different times, so the cluster has berries ranging from deep blue to green. We can go back to the same bush, day after day, and pick more berries from it. And the blackberries — they get ripe so fast! Seriously, I could pick berries from a vine in the morning and then go back a few hours later and pick more. I can’t quite see them changing color, but I bet if I set up a time-lapse camera, I could.

Unfortunately, it’s also hot and sticky. I really love camping here, but I keep looking at the house and contemplating how much work it would take to make it livable. Do you suppose it’s possible to put central air-conditioning into a stone farmhouse? I guess anything’s possible if you have enough money, which means I should definitely not be wasting my time imagining renovating the house, and instead should be writing, writing, writing.

The writing… yeah. Not going well. I have discovered two characterization issues that I need to solve. I have partially figured out how to solve one of them, but the other… sigh. I guess I can be happy that I have at least figured out why I’m stuck again and what needs to change to get me unstuck, but I wish I could just write until I was done and stop caring about things like agency and motivation. And consistency. I guess that’s the one I care about the most. But I will solve these problems, and meanwhile, I will eat blueberries and blackberries and appreciate summer.

Robin

I received the most delightful voice mail message today. It contained the words, “basically I’m just calling to say you were right and I was wrong.” I’m not sure why that amuses me so much — it’s mean of me to be amused, in fact — but it was expressed so… so… so precisely. It’s exactly the right vocabulary for a good mea culpa.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to find out exactly what I was right about so I’m sitting around on tenterhooks waiting to find out the details. The call was from R, of course, and while I’m appreciating the concession to my rightness, I’m also a little worried. I really would prefer not to be right about altitude sickness being a problem for him. As it goes, amused triumph mingled with worry is translating into a lot of snacking, a lot of internet browsing, and not nearly enough writing.

I’m tempted to start reorganizing Serenity yet again: I still haven’t managed to get everything into proper places after cleaning out my storage unit, so there’s work to be done. But I also know that work is just a distraction from writing. And if I’m going to go the route of distraction, I could also go pull up some weeds from the blueberry patch — distracting and helpful, a much better bet.

Or I could blog. And look through photos. And maybe post an entirely random robin?

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A random robin. I think he’s telling me to get to work.

And then get back to work.

NYC Weekend and Blueberries

I picked my first blueberries this morning, yay! Ate some, too, of course, and they were delicious. I’m currently not parked at the garden, because it is seriously hot, so I’m actually staying in the guest bedroom at my brother’s real house. Poor Serenity is just baking in the sun. But I’m hoping for cooler weather later this week and mornings that include walking the dog to the blueberry patch, picking some blueberries, and then eating fresh blueberries for breakfast. When that happens, which it will, I will post pictures. Today’s pictures, though, have to be of my NYC weekend.

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Unsurprisingly, my college cohort are all having big birthdays this year. A friend that I’ve stayed in touch with was headed to NY to attend the party of a friend that I’d completely lost touch with, and invited me along. We decided to turn it into a real NYC adventure, not just a long drive to a nice dinner. So on Friday, I took a bus into New York.

Five minutes after disembarking, I was sure I’d made a huge mistake. The Port Authority Bus Terminal followed by 42nd Street on a Friday afternoon in June could have been a universe away from my quiet green garden house mood — stimulating, chaotic, colorful, and completely overwhelming. Fortunately, I kept walking, got to a quieter area of Chelsea, took an ibuprofen, drank some water, and found our hotel, which had a nice peaceful patio. I say fortunately because after that initial shock of entry, I had a really great time being a tourist in the big city.

We walked along the Highline, went to the Whitney Museum, saw The Book of Mormon on Broadway, took a Circle Line landmarks cruise around Manhattan, sat on the grass in Central Park, ate fancy breakfasts and low-key other meals, and eventually went to our friend’s party, followed by drinks at a rooftop bar in Chelsea.

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The view from the roof.

I don’t think I could pick a highlight. I had a bagel — a gluten-free bagel with smoked salmon cream cheese — that actually tasted like a real bagel. We ate fantastic gelato our first night (favorite flavor: lime-basil) and really good ice cream on Sunday. Walking through the Highline was beautiful but getting to look at art and think about art in the Whitney was somehow deeply gratifying. It felt like using a part of my brain that has been sleeping for a while. My favorite piece was Pittsburgh by an artist I’d never heard of from a school of art I’d never heard of, but there were other things that inspired fun story ideas for a story that I can’t write until after I finish the dozen other things lined up before it. The Book of Mormon was great, but so was the incredibly rushed walk to get to it, through NYC on a Saturday evening.

And it was good to see old friends again. Strange, but good. This particular friend group belonged to my best friend, not me, so I was peripheral in their world, but watching them felt so familiar. I was particularly delighted to finally ask one of them about a memory I have of a time when we did a 360 in a truck on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago — probably my clearest near-death experience ever. I’ve remembered that moment forever, but lost all the details around it — how did we wind up in a truck together on a highway in the midwest? Alas, she had no answers for me, although she remembered the moment, too.

It was a great weekend. Still, I took a deep breath when I got off the bus in PA yesterday and was happy, happy to be here. Time to get back to Grace and eat some blueberries!

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A view from a hotel window, with the Empire State Building on the right.

More photos from the BVI

My SIL and niece were the first people forced to sit through my slideshow of my 100 favorite photos. Well, forced is a strong word. But I didn’t really give them a choice. They were very tolerant, however!

These are the images (not previously posted) that made them say “Ooh,” or “Ahh,” or “Wow.”

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