The last couple of weeks my mornings have been greeted with the sound of chainsaws. I don’t particularly like the sound of power tools, and chainsaws rank up there as one of the worst.
Now it is the sound of engines from dump trucks and excavators carving up the soil. I look out my backyard and see the excavator swinging its massive claw. There is that recognizable beeping sound that follows you into your home. More
Saturday began a bit differently than usual. Pete had been away since Wednesday night in San Francisco. Aside from the usual stress and anxiety that builds up during the week that doesn’t offer much breaks, I was particularly on edge. He was coming home that night, and I couldn’t wait.
I was texting with someone who contacted me via craigslist about buying a crib mattress. I was selling ours. We hardly ever used it because Polina woke up not longer after I would set her down in it. As a newborn she slept next to me and she preferred it. I caved to her sleeping with me because I didn’t want to use the crying-it-out method.
Periodically I would look up to check on her. Then I looked up and saw her on top of my car, my two-seater that Pete traded with me when we had Polina because he didn’t want me to drive with a baby in that thing. She was perfectly calm standing on top of the roof. Apparently, she isn’t afraid of heights, which would be even more evident as the day progressed.
She wanted to use my car as a slide down the front windshield. She refused to let me help her. She wanted to get down herself. So I helped her gently, so it didn’t look like I was helping. It worked. She was happy as a clam.
We drove to town to meet my friend David for lunch. It was great to talk to him. I don’t have too many friends, and he is one of my oldest. My oldest friends happen to be male. I don’t know why that is. It will be six years since we met working together leading treatment groups for drug and alcohol users involved in the criminal justice system. He has his problems and I have mine, but we can laugh and support one another. I cherish that more than anything, because this can be a very cold and painful world.
Afterward, Polina and I headed to a former navy complex that reopened as a park. As is typical of Washington state, there aren’t many signs, at least compared to Philadelphia where I grew up. In Philadelphia, the signage is so clear that it can become comical because there are so many of them one after another. Even on trails it is virtually impossible to get lost because just when you think you are alone in nature, in the middle of nowhere, there is a sign.
Not so in Washington. I think it’s part of the passive-aggressive vibe to this place, like you’re supposed to know where you’re going and if you don’t, then you don’t belong there. This happens all the time in residential neighborhoods that are built like corn mazes and streets that change their names three times within 5 minutes of driving. I don’t get it.
Anyway, it’s easy to get lost around here, even if you’ve lived here for 16 years like I have. I hadn’t been to this park in a while, so we went down one path, didn’t find what we were looking for and went down another path. Polina insisted that I carry her on my right side. Even as a baby, she protested when I held her with my left arm.
The problem now was that my right arm was ready to fall off from carrying her down to these places I didn’t want to go. I saw a spot by a grove of Madrone trees and we sat down. There was a cool breeze, a stark contrast to the almost unbearable heat of the prior weekend. Polina was restless and wanted me to keep carrying her. I showed her the bark of a Madrone tree. I rubbed it on my skin and it was soothing. It helped me to calm down. As a kid I liked to rub leaves on my cheeks and forehead. I don’t know why I liked it, but I did. Anything smooth or soft works. I taught Polina, and she calmed down. (!)
Then I taught her how to pull the bark off the tree. It’s as thin as paper. Not peeling the bark off a Madrone tree for me is like leaving a line of chalk on the chalkboard. It’s irritating and I have a compulsion to erase it, except in this case, it’s about peeling. As I peel the bark, it feels good to “liberate” the tree. The trunk underneath is smooth and I gently caress it so as not to nick it with my fingernail. Polina also liked peeling the bark. It was mildly hypnotic watching her do this quietly for about 20 minutes. Maybe she was mesmerized.
Then off we went in another direction and found some blackberry bushes growing by the side of the path (previously a road.) Most of them weren’t ripe yet, but there were enough that were to fill our bellies. I taught Polina to pick the black ones, not the red ones. She quickly learned and began eating. After every bunch she said, “messy,” indicating that her hands were messy. Of course, she’s picking blackberries. But Polina doesn’t like messy anything. Fortunately, intuition told me earlier that morning to bring a washcloth, so after every bunch I had something with which to wipe her hands.
Walking further, we came to some stairs which I had remembered from my last visit. I had slight vertigo from looking down these stairs. I needed a hand rail. Not Polina. She insisted on going down by herself. She learned a new word this past week: “sama,” which means “by myself” in Russian, which she has no trouble saying to me. (Several days prior, when I opened the door and turned the light on to take her to the bathroom, she turned off the light, closed the door (leaving me in the bathroom), then after a few seconds, casually opened the door and turned the light back on again.)
Polina, perhaps channeling her peasant ancestors, loves to be barefoot, even in weather that I would consider chilly. There is a school of thought that says connecting bare feet to nature is beneficial for good health. Does asphalt count?
It was 5:50 pm. Four hours before Pete’s flight arrived. It didn’t make sense to drive back home only to come back down again later. I decided to go to town to see what was open on a Sunday evening. I chose Thai, and it was a good decision. Polina, the picky eater, ate all her beef noodles. We killed some time there and sooner rather than later, it was 9:45 pm.
We finally picked Pete up from the airport at about 10:40 pm. Polina was asleep in her car seat, but she woke up briefly to greet him. She was so happy to see him. The recognition in her eyes quickly turned to excitement… It is gratifying to see her bonding with a healthy human being who also happens to be her father. It was a positive end to a positive day.
A couple days late publishing this, but better late than never. On Sunday morning, we discovered this perfect web behind the driver’s seat of our car. We didn’t see it the day before so we think it was built overnight. I think it’s beautiful.
There has been a lot of attention over the past decade to a phenomena labeled “nature deficit disorder.” It is the idea that children are spending less and less time outdoors, more and more time indoors interacting with electronic devices (hmmm….) and that this has implications for their emotional and physical health.
I tend to agree. I have been one that is attracted to the outdoors. For example, I love to camp. I don’t like not having access to a hot shower for five minutes in the morning, but some of the feelings I get after three days of camping (it takes me that long to “detox”) are purification, peace, connection with my surroundings, and understanding. Maybe one can get that in expensive hotel rooms with a spa, but I can’t afford that. Being in dirt is a great alternative in terms of results.
I used to work with an African-American woman who came to work each day as if dressed for a fashion show. She wore high heals, ornate earrings, and had long nails which she had manicured professionally weekly. She was also overweight, but didn’t seem to mind it. She flaunted her body. Every summer we had a barbecue for clients at the health clinic where we worked. It was held in a city park behind our building. We took turns barbecuing while taking care of needs back at the office. On one occasion where our times overlapped, I remember her looking around at the big trees and commenting, “This is nice.” She didn’t say this in an off-hand way, but like she meant it. Ms. Fashionista was moved and I realized that nature can touch all kinds of people.
More interestingly to me is the phenomena that people are not comfortable being around nature. I remember taking a walk in a park with another friend of mine through some Madrone trees. Madrone trees shed bark and I was pulling off some of them. The bark was very thin, like paper. Pulling on the bark was mildly therapeutic because it made me feel like I was releasing the tree from its harness to reveal more of the soft, beautiful bark underneath.
“Stop it,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
I don’t remember the precise reason she gave, but it made her very uncomfortable that I was interacting with nature in such a way. From my point of view, the tree was shedding bark anyway, so why not help it along? I offered her the bark in my hand, but she didn’t even want to touch it. And she is from Montana! Coming from a city that has more residents than the entire state of Montana, I thought people from big nature states were naturally close to nature. Befriending her made me realize that just because you live in a state that sounds synonymous with nature doesn’t mean you actually interact with it.
It is important to me that Polina grow up not only feeling comfortable around nature, but having her own relationship with it. I consider being in nature to be the absence of cars, people, buildings and electrical poles. It is vital to my soul. The experience of it resides in my imagination and it’s where I seek solace even when I am away from it. However, I am terrible when it comes to naming things in nature. I know a few plants, but I can’t distinguish a Douglas from a Fir tree, and I live in the Pacific Northwest. Naming it hasn’t been as important as feeling it. I live up in the clouds that way.
I know nothing about the soil, except that it needs water, maybe some lime and compost. I’ve never actually grown anything myself, but I have maintained established plants in my home for several years. That is one of the things I am working on as we work on our home. My mother grew tomatoes and lettuce on our balcony in the apartment we lived in. I didn’t take an interest then, preferring to eat the produce instead. But now, in middle age, I do have an interest.
The week before Memorial Day, Polina and I went camping in the same spot we went 20 months earlier. We had our time together and our time side by side, each enjoying nature in our own way. Except for a flip phone and an occasional internet check in at the local library, we were without electronic disturbances. Here are some pictures from the trip, along with some flashbacks.
Yesterday was another beautiful day and we took advantage of it. When I saw the clear sky, I wanted to go outside ASAP. We went to the same park as last week. There were fewer people and significantly more families with children than people with dogs. Last week, it was the reverse. Hmm, go figure.
After about an hour, we stopped at an overlook and I found a dry spot, which happened to be on some wood chips, and lay on the ground. It felt so good to lie on the earth. I felt fatigue leaving my body and go into the earth. I also felt something rising out of me. Polina took her shoes and socks off, which she hadn’t done in a long time because it had been cold. I suggested to my husband that he lie down since he was yawning up a storm and doesn’t sleep well.
“No,” he said.
“It feels really good. Trust me, you’ll feel better.”
He gave me a skeptical look and said, “No, I don’t want to get wood chips on my clothes.”
“I’ll brush them off.”
“No.”
“You tell me you don’t sleep well. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better,” I persisted.
He finally offered to lie on the rock he was sitting on. A minute later, he was asleep. On a rock. I reluctantly woke him after about an hour because I had to leave for an appointment.
On our way out we touched the budding camelias. They were covered by a fuzzy shell. We felt at peace noticing these things and communing with nature. It lifted my spirits. I felt emotionally and spiritually cleansed and ready for the coming week.
I traveled around Europe in my twenties and lived abroad for four years. I saw world class architecture, museums, and ate delicious food. But my spirit soars when I am in nature. My choice of vacation is camping. $20 bucks a night to reserve a plot with million dollar views. It’s the most intense happiness I’ve ever felt, and I’m so thankful for these experiences.
