Winter Squash Wild Rice Bake

That is what I made for dinner the other night.  It was quite nice, despite Eli's warning that "anytime the word 'bake' is used as a noun, do not have high hopes for dinner". 

From NYC to the BWCA with hardly a breath between them

As we gear up to head to Florida to visit my parents, it has me thinking of our other vacations this past year.  Last spring we did a crazy thing.  We packed up our boys and flew them to NYC for 5 days over spring break.  And then even crazier, upon return, we quickly unpacked and within a few days were heading up to DuNord, on the edge of the BWCA.  Talk about transitions.

Our trip to NYC was lovely.  Nice weather, nice apartment, great boys.  They were eager to see the sites so we typically left our apartment by 8am and spent the next 10-12 hours wandering the city.  We became expert subway users and logged many hours on foot as well.  We did try to do to much, but we had fun doing it.  And there's oh so much more to do when we return.  Not if, but when.  Highlights for me were the times we all laughed heartily together- peering through dense fog at the top of the Empire State building, getting slap happy in the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Theo, and of course the bus fiasco when I panicked and caused us to really stick out as tourists, although surely we had been busted early and often already.  Really a fabulous trip. 

And then we came home, re-inserted ourselves into hectic life in St. Paul, only to dart out of town again within days so I could attent a board retreat up at DuNord.  It felt crazy to be packing up again, but once we took a deep breath of the north woods air and settled into our rustic cabin by the lake, it all made sense. This is what we needed in order to recalibrate from our hectic urban adventure.  We hiked along misty trails, found evidence of wolf activity, follwed moose prints by the front door of our cabin, and watched the ice begin to break up on the lake.  By the first evening, there was a 2-3 foot perimeter of ice-free water just on the edge of the lake, enough for us to plunge into following a hot hot sauna.  As the steam rose of our bodies in the cold night air, we marveled at our good fortune to be able to experience so many of the great places this old world has to offer us.

First Snowfall

Theo has been waiting for it.  Eagerly anticipating.  So it was easy to rouse him up out of bed this morning with the promise of an exciting sight out his window.  After a hot shower (oh no! wrinkles be in Theo's future!) he joined me for breakfast.  The flakes coming down outside were huge and lovely.  Theo was so moved he had to go outside and yell for joy.  And then he came in and said, "You know Mom, those flakes are so big, they kind of remind me of big flakes of skin."  Nice Theo. Ever the poet.

Wrinkle remedy

This past weekend we were walking in a local park when we ran into Larissa, a Russian woman who Jon tutored in English 20 years ago while we were preparing to leave for the Peace Corps.  We have run into Larissa now and again over the years, always outside and always while she is doing something active.  About 7 years ago, it was up at Camp DuNord over New Year's.  Jon was helping a ski group push a car out of a snow pile when he looked at the pusher to his right and realized it was Larissa!  Then 2-3 years ago I caught up to her on a bike path down by the river.  So it was not a huge suprise to find her out hiking through the woods on a beautifully sunny and warm November afternoon.

What did suprise me is that Jon asked her how old she was.  Which I admit, I was wondering.  But to ask outright shocked her a little, I think.  I tried to smooth it over by saying, "Forty, not a day over forty."  She gave me a little pat and said, "You're close.  I just turned 80."  80!  This caused me to take a closer look- trim, fit, active, and virtually wrinkle free!  I mean her forhead is smooth as a baby's.  Maybe some laugh and worry lines around the mouth and eyes.  But seriously.  She was born in 1932.  Things have happened since then that would cause a person some wrinkles. 

We chatted, introduced our kids, and then it was clear she had miles yet to hike and so she was off.  As we walked on Jon and I both proclaimed to our kids how much we liked that little woman (she is shorter than Theo).  I remarked on the lack of wrinkles.  Jon then recalled that her secret to health, 20 years ago, had been to take a cold shower every morning.  I do remember her trying to talk us into this habbit, and we did end up doing it for a while, but that was only because we were living in the Carribean and we had no hot water, and really no need for it as daily highs were 85.  I remember being committed to cold showering upon our return to the states, but by the time we hit October here in Minnesota, I had the hot water on and seriously so.

But now that I see her at 80 and so incredibly wrinkle free, I get to wondering.  In my 43 years, I spent about 2 cold showering.  But not really 2 because often during those Peace Corps years we had no water so I didn't shower at all. But I would take 'sea baths', the Antiguan remedy for everything.  Those had to count for something, right?  So, if I spent the next 40 years taking TWO cold showers a day, could I reverse current trends and end up in my 80s looking like Larissa?  Please?  But me thinks the trend that has started will carry on its intended course.

I told my mom of this theory of cold showering, and she said, "I'd take wrinkles any day over the prosepect of a cold shower."  I think I agree.

Don't worry Mom, I learned my lesson

This is what my son said to me when I asked him what happened to his eye.

The Widji Way

This past summer was the first summer my older guy met the age requirements to head off to Camp Widjiwagan.  He's been watching a family friend go for years.  Add to that stories from Wally, Amy, and myself of our adventures from summers long ago, and the kid was curious.  But he was also skinny as a rail, uninterested in having anything wet in contact with his body ever, and pale.  I admit I wandered if we were sending him too early.  He had definitely been on and enjoyed short canoe trips down the Namakagon over the years.  And canoe trip earlier the summer with Camp St. Croix was a success despite awe-inspiring heat, bugs, and storms.  But that was only 3 days down a river.  Widji's shortest trip is 7 days out in the BWCA.  With a wet-boot policy firmly enforced.

But he showed interest so we signed him up.  And sent him.  I spent the week mostly calm, really mostly worried that a bad experience this early would taint it and he'd not want to return.  He had tried to carry a canoe before, but really, he weighed less than their lightest canoes!  And he had nothing on the traditional Woody that was sent with each group.  Ok, I was also a little worried about the temperatures- his earlier St. Croix trip had been scorching, while BWCA forecasts had temperatures dipping into the 20s (in August!).

At the end of his session, we were invited up for a banquet.  The invite included careful instructions about where and when parents were welcome, and where we were not.  We got to hug him before dinner, and he gave us a quick thumb's up and a lovely smile before heading off to eat with his cabin group. After dinner this group showed the parents their cabin, their route on the big bwca maps, and, most importantly, their woody canoe.  They spilled out tales of adventure, hijinks, and a sprinkling of woe as we ambled around camp together.  At the banquet, parents sat at the back as each group got up to share a few words about their trip.  Every single kid found something great to say- about what they did, what they learned, how they grew.  It produced tears in this mom.  After the banquet they were gone, off to the final sauna and then to bed. 

Our 5 hour ride home was not consumed by screen time, but rather Eli regailed us with tales of his trip.  Stories that ranged from wicked headwinds to farting jokes to camp cooking.  He talked of how he hated wearing the wet boots all day, but the joy he felt every evening in stripping them off after one last swim and putting on dry, warm socks.  And best of all, he asked us to sign him up again next summer.

I'm really surprised at how much my guy could grow in the space of 10 days.  He came back from this Widji adventure standing taller, more confident, and yet, still as dang lovable as ever.  I'm a believer.

If you give a kid a pickaxe...

Actually, the tool in question was apparently a cousin of the pickaxe with some more romantic name, but I can't remember what it was.  Anyway, a few weekends back we pointed our car north on a Thursday evening in order to head up to Camp DuNord and partake in a work weekend.  Work weekends are our latest greatest discovery.  You get lodging for free, and pay a nominal fee to be fed all of your meals.  In exchange, you spend a day or two roaming the north woods.  Of course, in theory, we were working, but you couldn't convince Theo of that.  He was having the time of his life.
What kid would not love the chance to roam the woods with implements of destruction (or, in more steady hands, forest management tools)? 

Our work weekend started out by waking up in a camper cabin at Bear Head State Park outside of Ely, MN.  The temp outside was 20 degrees- stunning for our early October bones.  The kids (we were with the adventure-prone Neskemoens) quickly found that the water had frozen at the base of the water pump.  They spent quite a bit of time slipping around on this precious square foot of ice.  Then we took a lovely hike under a brilliant blue sky.  By mid-morning we headed toward Ely, where we found about 3 inches of snow on the ground.  Even I got terribly excited while waiting outside a coffee shop to pelt Amy and Jeff when they emerged with their morning drinks.  As we drove the last half hour to DuNord, the northwoods were heart-stoppingly beautiful.  The blue sky and evergreens familiar from our summer trips were coupled with golden tamaracks and a blanket of fresh snow. 



When we arrived at DuNord the boys disappeared. The lure of camp plus snow drew them out of our sphere of influence immediately.  That left the adults time to take a quick cabin tour, as everything was unoccupied.  Well, almost everything.  Sorry nappers in Thor's!  It was interesting for us, cabin-tent dwellers, to see how the other half of dunordians lived.  Defnitely appealing.

Friday afternoon we were outfitted with nippers and saws and told to beat back the woods from the main path down to the cabin tents.  An aged dog joined us and kept the boys occupied when their nipping muscles started aching.  It was lovely to work up a sweat under the bright sun as the snow melted all around us.

But Saturday was really the highlight. After a delicious breakfast we were sent off into the woods.  This time with nippers, saws, AND pickaxes.  My crew consisted of all the younger boys (5 of them!) and we had a lovely time nipping away branches and tackling the challenge of removing downed trees from the path.  About halfway through our shift Theo found himself in possesion of the pickaxe-type thing.  He was free to wander off the path, find old downed logs, and just wail away at them.  With no purpose but to tire his muscles and bring a smile to his face.  The logs didn't need pickaxing, but the boy needed to pickaxe, so the log was happy to oblige.  While we were wandering the woods, Eli was given the chance to drive the 6 wheeler down a crazy rollercoaster of a path and help unload gravel on to a low spot.  He thrived as well.  I think we had more fun with our work than we would have had if we were just told to use the day as we pleased.  The sense of purpose, plus the opportunity to challenge ourselves and our muscles was a winning combination.

The day of outside heavy work was followed by a warm dinner, a night of 'Contra Dancing' and then a 250 degree sauna and a plunge into the near-freezing lake (I mean, it had freshly melted snow in it!).  We slept hard that night.  We will return!  But I'm not sure I'm going to get Theo a pickaxe for Christmas, as he requested on the ride home.  Our little city lot just does not offer the same pickaxing opportunities as up north.