Water

I'm a novice camper, so was quite grateful to be invited on a camping trip with four other campers who have all the gear and know the ropes of camping. I know it's not that difficult, but I'm not the kind who instinctively can put a tent together, who enjoys working with fire, or who has a backpack filled with water and a tube that sends that water to my mouth when I drink from it. I was awed by all of the gear - the dehydrated food, the stove that folds up into a 10" circle, the headlamps - all of this equipment certainly made experience of camping a little easier and more convenient.

It was on a trip to purify water from the river that I suddenly remembered that for many people around the world, the "hardships" of camping are an everyday experience. I never think about water - where it comes from, what life would be like without it, if it's clean or not. I just turn on the faucet, put a glass underneath the stream, and enjoy. I don't have to worry about purifying it, I don't have to worry about water-born diseases, I don't have to worry about thirst, I don't have to worry about being vulnerable while walking miles to the nearest clean water source, I don't have to worry about anything relating to water.

But when we were camping, I did. Though the water looked beautifully clear and refreshing, I knew it wasn't safe for me to drink it. So I had to laboriously push water through a small purifying tube before I could drink it. My ever-weakening wrists did not appreciate the length of time I spent pumping the purifier. But there was no other choice. Pump, or go thirsty. And going thirsty is not a desirable option when you're hiking in July.

I came home Sunday afternoon, back to a world of water at my fingertips, no pumping required. But I hope to hold this small lesson and carry it with me as I remember the struggles that people around the world face daily. The Spilling Hope campaign my church hosts to raise money for wells in Uganda will certainly take on a new meaning for me after my brief water ephiphany.

Foodie Summer Day

8am: Chocolate croissant and coffee on a small table on the sidewalk outside of the Cowen Grocery cafe. Talk of future dreams, weekly updates, and, of course, chocolate, with a dear friend.

6pm: Phinney Farmer's Market. One flat of berries - half strawberry/half raspberry. Two quesadilla slices filled with beets and seasonal greens.

9pm: Molly Moon's ice cream. Samples? Theo Chocolate and Carrot Cake. Choice? Scout Mint.

Yum.

(Four)th of July

My four-year-old niece went on a photo shoot on the Fourth of July. I present to you her first art show.

Safari on a rug.

Color Study - Red.

Artist Quote: "I'm going to take a picture of dad's beer."

Shout out to grandma.

The Dollhouse.

Fleeing Subject.

Emotion.

Pinochle, Plastic, and Fleece.

We had a great Fourth of July - lots of food and family time (and rain made it a little extra-special for yours truly!). And, of course, our four-year-old keeping us on our toes :)

Strawberry Fields Forever

It's no secret that summer is my least favorite season. Glaring brightness in the sky. Sticky sunscreen film on my skin. Heat. Allergies. Guilty feelings when inside on a sunny day.

But there is one redeeming quality of summer.

Berry-picking.

Every year, my love for berry-picking grows. It doesn't matter what kind of berry, just as long as I'm in a field, with a bucket, alongside friends, picking the sweetness bounty of the earth (one in my mouth, five in the bucket).

I went to Bellingham with some friends, and we decided to pick our first berries of the season on Saturday afternoon. A perfect way to spend a pre-Fourth of July Saturday.

Since Whatcom county is chock-full of u-pick farms just outside of the city, it seemed like it would be simple to find a farm to visit. But after many phone calls, internet searches, and discussion, we realized that finding a farm to visit was not going to be such a simple task.

Why?

Because we were committed to picking at a farm that cares for the environment. And, shockingly enough, they are hard to come by in a county that appears to be environmentally-friendly.

I admit that I do not always buy organic fruits and vegetables. But this weekend I was determined to respect not only the earth, but farmers who were committed to caring for their land by not using pesticides or fertilizers to grow their berries.

Calling around to a few farms, we found some pretty low prices ("$1.25/pound - what a deal!"), but quickly realized that any price less that $3/pound certainly meant that the farm used conventional methods such as sprays, pesticides, fertilizers, etc. I don't know too much about farming methods - I just know that spraying chemicals on the plants or the soil is not so good for anyone or anything involved in the whole process.

The only farm that was open was about 15 minutes away, and didn't sound too promising (rain = bad weather = small crop = not many berries left when we wanted to pick), but we decided to check it out. I'd been to this farm before, and knew it was quite small. But we figured that the farmers could possibly direct us to another organic farm if they didn't have any berries left.

We arrived, picked up some baskets, and walked with the farmer out to the field. Wearing a bucket hat and round glasses, he told us about his strawberries. He said he was surprised that people were coming out of the fields with full baskets of berries. Apparently they were hiding quite well, available to those who were willing to search for them. He found a few good berries for us, and sent us on our way. About twenty other berry-pickers were enjoying the early afternoon on the farm. Some twin two-year-olds kept running back and forth between the strawberry patches where their mom and grandma were picking. I enjoyed munching on the pieces of heavenly goodness that were lying unsuspectingly underneath lush green leaves (which were unfortunately causing quite a rash on my arms!).

It was a perfect outing. For us, the environment, the farmer. Although I am on a budget, I was more than willing to pay more for these organic berries. Because I paid the cost to grow berries as they are meant to be grown. Whole. Natural. Delicious.

The end of the story? The berries found their way to Fourth of July dessert. Scones, whipping cream, and sliced strawberries. Just a little bit of heaven.