Mount St. Helens

Having snagged another day off together, Tanner and I drove to Mt. St. Helens for the afternoon. We wandered the visitor's center (which I recommend, by the way. I learned quite a lot, and the photos/ video from the 1980 event are astounding) and then drove to the mountain itself, entered the "blast zone", and got a good taste of what a massive volcano can do to a countryside.

Now, more than 30 years later, the blast zone around Mt. St. Helens still looks like a different planet. We could have been walking on the moon; everything was barren and covered in deep ash and magma-created trenches. The trees all around us were still blown down; it was amazing to see an entire mountainside covered in flattened and broken trees, all of them pointed in the same direction, as if still trying to escape the mountain. It was a time capsule that nature hadn't regrown yet; creation was still struggling out of the chaos, and the devastation of Mt. St. Helens was still evident in every corner.

The mountain itself must have been so grand, once; the photos from the visitor's center showed it looking remarkably like Mt. Hood, with a proud, pointed cap covered in snow. Now, the entire north side of the mountain has disappeared, turned into a giant avalanche which destroyed Spirit Lake below, created new lakes in its wake, and erupted with a force that sent its smoky plume more than 15 miles into the air.

Now, lying dormant, it tempts us with its docile face, drawing tourists close to slowly tread its ashy footprint. But to treat it as nothing more than a beckoning mountain top would be a deadly mistake, as the world learned on May 18, 1980, and will surely learn again.

A Simple Life

I had a lovely Labor Day; I spent it at an organic farm just south of Portland, in the heart of wine and farm country. My cousin and his girlfriend work as interns there, and for the weekend I was able to see how they have been spending their summer.

The farm has been around since the 1880s, passed down through generations, and life there is simple and wonderful. We fed the pigs, chased the sheep, picked pears from the orchard, searched for eggs in the chicken coop, wrangled baby turkeys, milked the goats, picked berries, harvested vegetables from the gardens, groomed the horses, listened to bluegrass music, sat by a massive bonfire, and watched the sun set from a gorgeous, wrap-around porch that has seen its share of the ages.

I could have spent a month there just taking pictures. Everywhere I turned, there was something beautiful and ancient waiting to be photographed in the changing light. The weather was beautiful, and time seemed to slow down all around us as we watched the hours pass in the simplest of ways.

Everything about the farm is centered around harmony, teamwork and a communal sense of family. It reminded me of my days working tall ships: many people working for the greater cause, surrounded by the beauty of nature, with no need in the world other than food, shelter and a warm bed. Everything else suddenly becomes less important. Beautiful, beautiful.

First Glimpse of the Sea

Last week Tanner and I spent one of our days off walking along the misty, sandy shores of the Pacific Ocean. Being that he has spent his whole life on the east coast, he has never seen this particular rim of the continent. It was delightful to see his reactions to this wild and wonderful edge of the world.

The west coast is so different from beaches back home -- there is no sunny, hot sand to curl your toes in, to lay your beach towel upon and lie in the sun until you come home crispy. There are no children with sand buckets and shovels, nor couples lying under umbrellas with sunglasses and books to read. There are no white dunes and no piers that stretch into endless sea.

Instead, there are sheer, dark cliffs which plunge into wild ocean. There are dark, pebbled beaches where the water is frigid to the touch, and small, black stones that have been washed smooth by the ebb of the tide. There are mysterious formations of rock which litter the seaside, and misty, hazy clouds that hang over the mountains. There's a sharp, cool breeze and surfers keeping warm in tight neoprene suits as they face the churn of the whitecaps. It's a different kind of beautiful.

"What do you think of the Pacific Ocean?" I asked Tanner as we walked along the seaside, eating ice cream as our hair whipped crazily in the wind.

"It's biiiiiig," he whispered.

Chocolate Fruit Smoothie

I've been making smoothies a lot lately. First, because they're delicious. Second, because I have lots of fresh fruit in the house due to my CSA food drops, and third, because Tanner will drink them, too.

This one is simple and yet delicious... don't be distracted by the strange color. Just imagine: it tastes like chocolate dipped strawberries. Promise.

{strawberry/ blueberry chocolate smoothie}

1 cup fresh frozen strawberries
1/2 cup fresh frozen blueberries
1 ripe banana
Lite chocolate soy milk (to desired consistency)

(Note: if you didn't freeze your fruit, you'll want to add ice cubes to make the smoothie cold)

Place everything in a blender and blend until creamy. The amount of soy milk you put in determines how watery/thick it will be. Feel free to add different fruits (blackberries are delicious, and yesterday I made one with overripe pluots, orange juice, and vanilla soy milk... yum.) Also, you can add a small amount of veggies to this without destroying the fruity taste, if you'd like more leafy greens in your diet.

I also highly recommend purchasing reusable smoothie cups with straws. These two were gifts (thanks, Mama Goodson!) and they always make smoothie time way more awesome. :)