in the forest, part 4: knitting in the wild

of course there was knitting. i brought a project with me wherever i went. but since there was always some work to be done, the knitting was pretty much either confined to long car rides or stolen moments. i have become rather a fast knitter in my own little clumsy way, so i managed to finish 2 hats, a pair of gloves, a single glove, and a sock. and to be fair, one of the hats was half done, and i began the little sock en route to kelowna from vancouver and worked on it throughout our time away.

the half-done hat was for the wife. i don't remember the last time i made her a hat that's just for her.

she likes it.

fortnight by jared flood
cast on with manos del uruguay maxima
knit with mystery tweed (lost the yarn band)
but i was wishing i was knitting with shelter all the while.

very much.

which makes me very happy.  see? 

i started a hat for ms. t immediately after i finished the wife's hat. i finished this second hat the morning of our departure from the forest. i charged my phone the day before with the express intention of setting my alarm for 6am so that i could have a quiet knit in the woods behind our campsite.

the mornings were cool in the forest and that morning was no different. 

i watched the sun make its slow journey up the east side of manning park and listened for the early morning sounds of the forest. i winked at it, as it shone on me and bowed my head. i took a breath to accept the blessing and whisper my gratitudes, then returned to my stitches.

as i knit, i listed as the birds went about their morning chatter. i even heard a loon make its hauntingly intriguing call. i watched a squirrel skitter towards me with curiousity. i thought i even saw a two-headed slug (it was a mushroom).

the time i took to finish making this hat for a not-so-little girl i adore and admire was a moment i stole. i freely admit my greed because i can tell you that even now, in ever-cluttered bedroom/home office, i can wholly remember satisfying it so completely.

quynn hat by woolly wormhead
knit with malabrigo worsted
(i think i've made 6 of these. such a great pattern!)

ms. t loves her hat, too (in fact, she asked for this very hat when she saw the babes' hats. i had to knit an extra inch on the largest pattern size so it would fit her decidedly non-toddler head).

a hat for each of my favourite scorpios = happy making.  now neither of them can wear those hats without thinking about our forest adventures. 

i don't have a photo of the gloves i made (in a hurry, 'twas cold up there!) or the pair of teensy socks that are finally done. so i will end this final instalment of  the "in the forest" series with a snapshot of a very long breath i took just behind our campsite that last morning, a moment full of gratitude and remembrance: a rare occasion in which my centre actually found me.

i hope your week began with the kind of peace and focus you need to carry out the busy-ness of the next few days. my vacation being most decidedly over, i am actively working hard to return to centre out of the forest. 

have a fantastic week! 

in the forest, part 3: the hills are alive

you know how the sound of music opens with epic aerial shots from what i am assuming are the mountains between austria and switzerland? and then the music swells and there's maria von trapp, doing a slow twirl in the middle of this open meadow, arms practically flapping to embrace the gorgeousness that surrounds her?

i've always wanted to be there.

i've always wanted to do that.

on the third day of our stay in the forest, we drove up a winding mountain road to behold a sub alpine meadow.

on the way up, we stopped at cascade lookout.

zooming in on lightning lake from the lookout
photo by ms. t* 

i love this photo. i love these kids all together.

gophers everywhere

the mountains seem to go on forever. british columbia really is beautiful. 

when we got to our hiking trail, we feasted our eyes on all that the alpine meadows had to offer (the link is from the resort page - which we definitely did not stay at).

i don't think i spoke a coherent sentence while we were up there. i wanted to drop everything, twirl forever, and channeling julie andrews, just sing! only i don't think that these hills deserved such a sound. the mountain silence was enough. also, we weren't allowed to stray from the trail. and the children were hungry and tired. and we forgot to bring the baby carrier. and it would not be an exageration to say that there were so many bugs. if i'd open my mouth long enough to attempt to sing about the hills being alive, i think a few of them would have flown into my mouth with joy in their hearts (which had already happened at the lake, so i wasn't willing to risk it again).

but boy was i enamoured with the landscape.

and i had such a crush on these flowers. dr. seuss must have come to a place like this. don't they look like something out of horton hears a who? or the lorax (the inspiration for truffula flowers perhaps)?  

apparently, some of these alpine flowers take 25 years to bloom.

i petted one of them and they are super soft. 

and there was no wind. so it's a wonder that they look to be in constant blown motion.

but for the halo of insects i developed while on the trail, i would have plunked myself down in the middle of it all and sketched for hours. i don't even think i photographed the place properly, i was swat dancing so vigorously. 

i have dreams of camping out there someday, just to buy myself the time to really take it all in.

until then, i'll be over here. doing slow mountain twirls amid fields of fuzzy flowers, in costume, as maria von trapp. all in my head. 

i know, in yesterday's post i was 12. today, i think i'm 16 going on 17 (ahem). but tomorrow, i'll be back for the final instalment of the in the forest series, "in the forest, part 4: knitting in the wild."

in the forest, part 2: deer papparazzi

in the forest, i made friends with a doe and a deer. 

i couldn't sleep our first night there. i had to pee really badly. but i had no intention of walking in the utter darkness of the forest by myself. there were bear warning signs everywhere. so i held my pee and woke myself up at first light to make my gravel-crunching journey to the bathroom, the quiet echoing through the trees. 

that's when i saw, my friend the doe. she was just there, in the middle of the camp site throughway, munching on some leaves. she stopped eating as i approached and looked into the forest. i thought she was going to bolt. and like a giddy groupie, i waved hello. and gave a high-pitched whisper only moths could hear, "it's okay. go ahead, and eat. i'm fine right here." (i think i even tee-heed.)

the doe munched on some leaves, made eye-contact with me (oh-mah-gosh), crossed the gravel path, took a sip from some water that collected on the ditch, and silently walked back in the forest. all this happened in about 30 seconds, though i could swear to you, it was at least an hour because time stands still on moments as still and magical as this. i don't think i took a breath until she left, sweet thing.

i have no photo to prove that any of this happened. but i know it did. and that's all that matters. 

the next day, my friend the doe (i'm calling her lily) brought her boyfriend, the deer (james) came to visit me. 

i am only including this shot to illustrate that there were 2 deer in my vicinity.
and that national geographic will never hire me for my wildlife photography skills. 

they happened to saunter rather nonchalantly through the woods behind our camp. so my friend christine and i, stalked them for as long as we could stand - my hands too shaky to take more than 2 clean shots of such forest patronuses celebrities.

i am aware that this is not a clean shot. but lily was feeling shy with me at that moment. 

the clean shots i took were of james, the stag.

i know. i am all sillyness. i enter the forest and suddenly i'm 12 again. 

next time, on "in the forest, part 3: the hills are alive".

in the forest, part 1: privilege

lightning lake, manning park
british columbia

dutchie, the tent trailer that housed all 8 of us. bugs not allowed.

our camp site

there was a campfire ban. so we did our best roasting marshmallows on hot coals. we didn't suffer.
but we burnt a batch of s'mores.

i am convinced that faeries live here.

rainbow bridge over lightning lake

i would say that what we did was a whole lot of nothing. but that's not true at all. 

in the forest, we were in the wilderness with access to only  communal plumbing conveniences (hurray for toilets and showers!)  but we were entirely without electricity. so   there was almost always work to do: set up, clean up, cooking, eating, hiking, and parenting. hard work. good work. work we did together: as 2 families, and 1 tribe.

in the forest, our little tribe co-existed comfortably together, through silence and conflict, through play and rest. our fellow moms helped us parent. their children played with ours. our friendships were rekindled. the wife and i got to sit beside each other for 2 seconds together, a small miracle in and of itself. we made merry with the lot that we brought with us. and what we brought was more than enough. 

in the forest, i had no choice but to do one thing at a time. if it was my job to do the dishes, it was a matter of walking to a sink, and taking it one dish at a time. there was no music or tv in the background. rarely was there a babe to manage. there was just the dishes and the walk back to camp. one thing at a time: an idea i have taken so long to rediscover, it's almost novel.

in the forest, i saw wonder and awe in my littles' eyes, at every turn. i saw the boy work to conquer his fear of a forest full of bears. i saw the girl discover independence as she climbed on to a floatie she brought into the lake herself - without fear or hesitation. i saw them both learn to explore the world around them freely, fostered by their imagination and rarely hampered by their limits.

in the forest, i felt whole. i was completely present. i missed nothing and enjoyed everything.  i took the time to be still. and to watch. and to feel myself holding my breath.

(i didn't even let the unusual overly abundant bugs cramp my style. i was on their turf, after all. and there was drinking. and dancing. as in, i made up truly geeky swatting dance moves to bat the buggerly buggers away. and yet i was still their banquet. but there was drinking and dancing. and the oh-my-the-stars that actually lit up the sky.)

it was such a privilege just to be there.

we are now back to our regularly scheduled programming. it's just us and the kids most days, with our working lives thrown in to break up the madness and the bliss of the parenting hours. 

i am holding close the peace i savoured every moment i was in the forest. i am resolving to do just one thing at a time, multi-tasking only when absolutely necessary. i am calling upon myself to relish the passing of time and most importantly, to find everyday peace in being extraordinarily present.

we spent 4 nights and about the equivalent of 4.5 days in the forest. i have so much more to tell you about. this is the first of 4 "in the forest" entries. 

i'll be back tomorrow with "in the forest, part 2: deer papparazzi."

now, onto the countdown-to-bedtime job that i absolutely love.

we were here

yes. really.

that's lightning lake,  a short hike from our campsite in incredible manning park. which, incidentally is located on a mountain.

 i totally went dark without telling you. that's because not only was there no electricity in the area, there was no cell phone reception. humbling and grand all at once.

i'm blogging from our gracious friends' home in the okanagan at the moment but tomorrow we'll be headed back to our little home by the hard-working fraser river. i'll be taking the stillness of that deliciously clean and humble-making cold lake with me as we roll back into the routine of our days.

the forest left 2 marks in me i won't soon forget: heart-whelming awe and wonder at what it is to behold nature in all its glory; and a deeply seeded seething realization that there is no fighting the fact mosquitos, black flies, horse flies and all their blood-loving kin must feed on human sacrifice as part of this experience.

i'll tell you all about it when i get home.

but before i sign offthis very late evening, i wanted to take a moment to pay tribute to 5 years of legal marriage. our wedding day really is one of the happiest days i can remember, surrounded by so many of the people we love - including friends and family who could only be there in spirit.

(reminisce with me here. if you like)

happy anniversary, my love.

let's carve out some time together when we get home, ok?