What I Should've Brought
Woke up yesterday to sun-washed rooms and that sweet, pine-sap smell that tells of an Oregon summer. I had big plans to spend the second of the two 88-degree days forecasted this week rambling through the woods to a miraculous beach on the Sandy River. But first! I had like a million things to do. So ... I drove all over town, I sold something old to a stranger and bought something new to replace it, I tamped down work-related fires as best I could, and then, then I got a piece of bad news right around lunch time—and this news was all I could taste as I ate a bowl of boiled eggs and potatoes.
My point? I was distracted—frazzled if you will—when departing on my preordained adventure. And so I forgot everything.
Here's all the stuff I wished I'd had with me as I hiked down a mountain to a river and then back up again.
-An ice-cold can of grapefruit Perrier. For sitting on the beach. With hurty feet and hot sand all around.
-Another dog to entertain my dog while I snoozed face down on my towel (instead—I spent the entire time throwing sticks as far as I could across the bright, glassy water).
-The best thick white zinc-oxide sun screen for my pasty, Oregon, sitting-in-front-of-the-computer skin (instead, today, I have sun burn).
-Salty chips to crunch on. Fruit, cheese, and bread to make it a meal. You get hungry wandering through woods—and I have long believed that sitting near a river listening to water rushing over rocks is a best-case scenario for eating a good meal.
-A panama hat to block that slanty late-afternoon sun, which dips at such sneaky angles that my current foam-mesh deal is rendered powerless.
I love these mossy tree trimmings—like pearl necklaces for the ancient creaking pines.
Northwest good luck. You can pick this stuff and pop it in your mouth—it tastes bright and lemony.
Of Note
Confession: On Saturday night, I stayed in and listened to The Chambers Brothers Pandora while cooking black beans from scratch, then placing them in small square containers and on into my freezer—thereby ensuring that over the next week a semi-edible meal would always be in reach. I also chopped all the vegetables I own into big piles and roasted them in the oven until they were tender and sweet—thereby making me want to eat them anytime I felt like I wanted to eat something.
This was all by way of something satisfying to do while I was drinking red table wine and letting the wind of Jimi Hendrix's guitar blow over me. Also? Preparing good food ahead of time causes you to eat good food. And waste less. And spend less money. It's a simple notion I learned in this rad book by Tamar Adler.
Anyhow, the night before, I'd finished work, sat in traffic, kicked the soccer ball for the dog, and then skated the coolest backyard bowl as the light fell, talking at length with backyard friends and drinking one tall cold backyard beer. Jamie gapped to tail slide. Michael made front Smiths. Sasha caused the coping to chirp. This was all followed by a bounty of late-night drinks and grilled cheeses at a corner bar.
So, you know, it's not as if I didn't do anything of note all weekend.
Sasha, makin' that shit chirp!
Spring To Do List
1. Keep my seedlings alive until it's time to stuff them in the ground. The sitch is tenuous—a touch of mildew, mold, or blight and it's all over.
2. Adventure more. South? North? I care not.
3. Eat sandwiches and beer in the sun in the park.
4. Skate all the razor scooter parks while the children are still locked away in school.
5. Procure a butter dish. A small thing, sure—except I eat toast in no small amount and want, or actually NEED velvety room-temp butter to spread on said toast. You can't just have a stick of butter wrapped in its original wax paper sitting on the counter, though. That's crazy talk.
6. Take longer walks neath the flowered drooping trees.
What To Do Right Now
I heard something about "springing forward" when I was really tired and I couldn't comprehend what exactly that meant for me and my three bedroom clocks—none of which tell time quite right. Then the sun came out and all the dogwood blossoms popped overnight. Bless your heart, Portland.
I was wondering if you ever think about growing peas or kale? Lettuce, maybe? The reason I ask is because if so, then you should plant them NOW. It's simple. You barely need to lift a finger, much less a shovel. Requirements entail a couple seed packets and a plot of land. Some rich mushroom compost to swirl into the soil. Some rain. And some time.
These cool-season green crops are the easiest of the easy when it comes to yard gardening, and so you could very possibly be blowing it if you're not tending to at least a container or two of them. Also? Green stuff is good for you, and if you grow it, you will eat it. Funny how that works. See, I never buy lettuce because I forget about it until it turns into a brown mass in the bottom of my crisper. But if you grow your salad in a tidy row, you will be inspired to wander out and pull a few sprigs to put on your cheese sandwich or whatever. The rest will stay in the ground where it belongs, just, you know, photosynthesizing.
Seed packets? $1.50. No excuses. Buy and plant now, before it's too late!
My lettuce seedlings require the protection of chicken wire on account of the neighborhood cats mistaking the garden bed for a giant luscious litter box. I suspect the cats in your neighborhood will be equally as confused on this topic, just FYI.
I save my egg shells, crush them, and sprinkle them in the garden beds because they are filled with rich calcium goodness.
Current Needs
Unlike the Buddha, I'm always in the process of wanting a bunch of stuff that I probably won't ever end up having. It's okay.
There is no equilibrium in my home to how much pleasure I get from coffee vs. how much time/money I put into it. I have the cheapest coffee maker, buy middle-of-the-road beans, and then I expect an incendiary cup of coffee? Makes no sense! Due to having spied renegade whole beans in my jar of coffee grounds—and also an inability to remember the origin of my current coffee grinder (I suspect it goes all the way back when I moved out at age 17)—I've been coveting a "nice" grinder.
Maybe someday I'll tell you all about my adventures in plantar fasciitis, how I never paid any mind to taking care of my feet (running in shoes until they disintegrated, skating in Vans slip ons or the equivalent, etc.), and how now those same feet bring me to my knees on a daily basis. Instead, I'll just say this: doesn't rubbing your sorest foot on a nobby massage ball while you watch TV episodes sound nice?
A gardeny gin without the juniper—made instead from elderberry, pine, black tea, rose, dry orange peel, cubeb, angelica, sage (obvi), lavender, spearmint, dandelion, thyme, sumac, rosemary, licorice root, and fennel. Wow, right? I have this feeling—call it intuition—that squeezing the juice of one blood orange into a glass of this stuff and topping it with soda water might transform your whole day, maybe even week, maybe even life.
Giant Jar Of Easter Lilies
During times such as this when we aren't getting as much sunlight as we should, a jar of fresh flowers gives hope to tired men. These flowers in particular—they come surrounded by a thundercloud of deep, spicy perfume. You'll catch a whif every time you walk by.