Duck Hunt

As of last week, I am a hunter. Actually, I am not. I have gone duck hunting twice thus far, and have the day off today and plan on going this afternoon. Duck hunting for me involves canoeing down a lazy river while Case looks for ducks, or walking in the most pristine rivers and woods of Maine.

The first hunt was along the Royal River in North Yarmouth. Case, Folsom, and I set out in a rickety canoe that Casey found abandoned and almost drowned recovering it. We met a beaver who display his power and aggression by slapping his tail in the water and running away like a pansy. The sun set before we ever saw a duck, but we got to witness dusk on the water and a slightly scary docking in the dark.

My second hunt was on foot in Windham/Gorham area along the Presumpscot River. We passed along little paths leading to obvious summer ragers. The remains of many a bonfire and drunken summer night reminded me of the changing season. Although I was bundled and dressed for "the hunt," I could feel cold air sneaking up under my clothing and the chill on my face. Once again, we did not see a duck, and we did not shoot. My favorite spot of this hunt was an old bridge. It is the oldest bridge in Old Falmouth (which is now Windham, Gorham, and most towns in Cumberland County). The covered wooden bridge across the river has not seemed to change at all. While walking across it, I felt like I could be back in 1843.

In conclusion, I am a hunter if it means I get to explore the outdoors and see life and beauty with Casey's company. I am sure that today Casey will actually shoot a duck, and I will be slightly scarred, but for now, I am enjoying the experience.

Fall is for falling

There is nothing like a New England Fall, of this I am certain. Last year I missed the fall when I was studying abroad in Spain, and so I'm appreciating it more than ever this year. I find myself slipping out of my sleepy downtown studio early in the morning and walking. I love to bundle up in a scarf and a cute Fall coat with a warm cup of tea in hand. Actually, right now I am enjoying a pumpkin latte at my favorite coffee shop, conveniently located on my block. Before writing this, I was looking up recipes for Fall soups, apple crisps, and pumpkin pancakes. I am just a Fall junky. I love the clothing, food, the trees bursting into color, and the way the crisp air makes me feel alive. My friend Evie told me that if I talk about the trees one more time she will kill me, but I cannot stop. I love Fall. I love it.

I think growing up surrounded by apple orchards started my love for Fall. I love that the treetops touch over the road, framing my perfect little world. You can smell the apples ripening and the cider being made as you walk down my crooked, country road during apple season. Any other time of the year, my street is vacant. You may see the occasional road bike gang, but on most days, I might just be the last human on the planet. Not during apple season. Families, kids, and pets flood the orchards. There is life.

I find myself feeling that "new love" feeling as I walk through downtown Portland. I don't have the will power to abstain from speaking rapidly and incessantly about my love, so Evie, and any other person who wants to kill me for my redundancy, just remember, winter is coming and then I will be heartbroken over my lost love. Let my love spell run its course.

Lessons from the Garden

A lifetime has passed since my last blog. To summarize: my parents visited me in Spain, I traveled all over Europe, came home, went to school, came home again with mono, went back to school again, graduated college (woot woot), came home for good, planted a garden, met my 6 wonderful little chickens, and started working at a country club. Life is abundant and good. I can't remember being so joyful... ever. So that is my mini update. I think I will continue blogging. Barb's Grand Adventure in Europe has ended, but there are endless adventures yet to be had.

Lessons from the Garden

Today was my first day off in a long time. I was pumped about the great things I could do in my free day. I woke up, read some of Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger, worked on a crocheted baby blanket for a friend, and then took a shower. After my shower, I was convinced that I needed to do something nice for myself. So I put on a cute outfit and got ready to go shopping, clearly forgetting anything I had read about the extremely improvised people who don't make enough money in an entire year to buy the outfit I was currently wearing. I was running out to my car to go indulge in some consumerism, when I looked down at the dry soil in my mom's garden of black-eyed susans.

I decided to water my gardens before heading out. I slipped off my my purple flats with the cute gold studs, tossed them aside, and sported my crocs, which completed the outfit quite horridly. I filled up my little metal watering can and made several trips from the kitchen in my house out to various gardens in my yard, and lastly, my vegetable garden. I am a very particular veggie-grower. I consider myself a purist: starting from seeds, refusing miracle grow and other chemicals. I believe that plants will just do their own thing if you give them a little love. And trust me.. I give my plants a lot of love. I call them my babies, talk to them, and water them constantly. I take great pride in them too, incessantly begging my family members to take a look at how much Green Pepper or Plum Tomato has grown.

Today I noticed some of my plants were not making much progress in the growing department. As I was watering my I grew angry with my plants. I was livid that the only lettuce that is thriving is the spicy mix and how I don't want a spicy and bitter salad. I said out loud, "Romaine Lettuce, you are so small and stupid, you too Baby Spinach, and Cucumber, you disgust me. Day after day, I water you, I weed you, it has been sunny, the soil is rich. You have EVERYTHING you could possibly want, yet you refuse to thrive! JUST GROW!"

After my verbally abusive conversation with my plants had ended, I thought for a moment, "Is this how God feels about me?" Last week I attended a planning meeting for my bible study where people said they just weren't growing, myself included. I started to imagine what God would say to me. How He would tell me that I am selfish and not growing, yet He had given me my family, my friends, fellowship, Monday Night, Friday Night, church, books, health, food, clothing, provisions, excellent books written by knowledgeable people, and more importantly: His Word, His Son, His Holy Spirit, and a world full of wonder and amazement. I have been tending my garden for the past 7 weeks, but God has been providing opportunities for me to grow for the past 22 years and planning out my life since forever. I am thankful that He is infinitely patient with me, that He prompts me to grow daily, and that He refuses to leave me as I am.