May. The weather has yo-yoed on us. There are days we wear jackets and sleep under all the covers, and there are days we strip to the bare minimum and let our daughter play in the water.
Our planned move west is going to happen. We own the place out there, and we have accepted an offer on our place here. My June letter will probably be written from out there, if it is written at all. Everything is caddywampus at home, as you can imagine. Besides packing and/or liquidating all our possessions we have the trip out there to face: 2100 miles with a cat and a four-year-old. Lordy be.
My mother grew up in the temperate deciduous forest of the Ohio River Valley. Now she lives in boreal forest, way up north. She says that when she visits people back in the temperate deciduous region, she’s happy in the forest there. Some part of her recognizes home territory, or at least home ecosystem.
And now we are moving out of temperate deciduous–where I have lived all my life–and into temperate rainforest. I can’t get over how exotic that sounds. Temperate rainforest, can you believe it? The vegetation out there is primordial. Moss, ferns, enormous trees. A whole lot of exploring will be in order.
Wildlife sightings this month have been meager. A family of redtail hawks lives nearby, and my daughter enjoys watching them circle overhead. We haven’t seen the fox. We haven’t heard coyote. We did go down to the pond, one recent evening, where we saw a muskrat busily paddling around in the duckweed. And we saw ducks.
Oh, and my daughter believes in hodags. Any time she’s near the trees she’s afraid she’ll run into one.
Foods of the month were rhubarb crisp and pots of beans. Pot after pot after pot–trying to eat up the pantry supplies. Navy beans with bacon and onions and Cajun seasoning. Black beans with garlic and chili and cumin. Chickpeas, overcooked then blended into lemony, cumin-y, garlicky hummus.
I’ll see you next month . . . or not. In any case, it will be from a very different place.