We are cleaning out the garage. It needs it. We need it. It is a collection of 17 years of kids, activities, growth, hobbies, projects. We are stepping over piles of stuff and so it is time. This might be our 6 month project. We take a shelf each night, and work through it. Being diligent to discard, give away and being conservative with keeping. We've thrown away expired gardening stuff, broken hockey sticks, parts that go to something we've gotten rid of already. It's been hard and good. When it is my turn to look at an item, John doesn't pressure me but helps me make a decision, keep, give, throw away. When it is his turn I do the same. We've gone through his college books, outdated? yes but only because they are on a newer edition. He hasn't used them. Kids' school projects, I walk down memory lane but they don't care about them. I've already documented most of it on this blog and well what wasn't documented, they don't remember or care, it's only me. Dress up clothes in three boxes have been paired down to one.  I did keep some that my mom made for my brother and I and that my kids wore and maybe they will be used again. I realize that we won't be parking the cars anytime soon in the garage. We are not about to get rid of the ping pong table, or the weights, or the bikes, but we can make it so we can walk around the garage and find the things that we want.  Hopefully there will be a part two of this project.  The after shots.

There is something therapeutic when baking. I'm not talking about opening a box, adding oil and egg and then sticking it in the oven.  I'm talking about hauling out the flour, salt, baking soda, eggs, milk and butter.  There is something about combining the ingredients, mixing, waiting, baking, waiting. It's a process. It takes time. Rolling out the dough, cutting it, placing it gently on the baking sheet, taking turns baking, cooling, baking, cooling, rolling in sugar, waiting and rerolling.  It isn't done quickly and I think that's what I like about it. It takes time and effort. It is a commitment, enjoyed by all from the fragrance of the house when the kids walk in to the melt in your mouth taste of each bite. It grounds me. There is no noise while I'm baking except the furnace swinging the vertical blinds, the oven heating, the timer going off, and my mind. It is quiet and soothing.

I just can't get tired of coming out to see these birds. It has become a tradition for me. I take time to drive out; leaving responsibility behind and staying as long as needed.  It isn't just drive out, pop out of the car, snap a photo and drive home. It is waiting for the eagles to awake, get hungry, and start to hunt. The moment I step out of the car, I hear the eagles shriek to one another, sometimes triumphantly and other times in warning. The smell of dead and rotten fish permeate the air. The carcasses of salmon are strewn along the banks and sandbars tempting hungry eagles to dine. I find a spot in the sun. I need the sun as much as the eagles, and pulling out my notebook, I wait. I sip the coffee I brought, still hot in the thermos, burning my tongue and throat. I am thankful for it, as it warms me from the inside. I watch other photographers come and go and yet I wait.  I know this year, I was almost too late. It is the end of the salmon run, the end of the eagles congregating along the trees at the edge of the river. There were a few eagles and yet even without the activity it would have been worth the time just to be refreshed by being.

The start of the year, brings ideas of a clean slate, a way to start new. Each year, reflections of the past year are thought upon and resolutions are made. I long to slow and pour out my soul, yet life spins and twirls with activities. I don't know how to begin. Routines are safe, needed and wanted. They are set but are static, not allowing for dynamic soul searching.  Scheduling times to write doesn't seem to work, I want to be authentic, real. I feel the need to dig, to create, to pour out. How? Picking up my notebook, camera, some hot coffee I head out, hoping to find my voice in the wilderness. Hoping to find me, just for a time.

Another wrestling season and he's made weight! This is a huge gain from last year. Again on JV but I've seen him win a match. The light weight wrestlers crouch low to the ground,, quickly circling each other with their arms out, tapping heads, reaching for legs like crab squaring up on the beach. The heavy weight wrestlers come out to the mat and lock heads like bears, pulling on arms lumbering in a circle. It is a totally different form of wrestling from each end of the spectrum and Job is at the light end. He hangs with his team, preferring to be by the coaches. I don't know if he's picking anything up from their talking to the other wrestlers or he just likes their company. He loves this sport. 

His face when he wrestles is intense. I feel myself tense up as well, almost not daring to breathe while he's out on the mat. Wanting so bad for him to win, by points and a pin if possible. I recently saw him go against the 1st place wrestler in state in the 106 weight class. I wasn't sure what to think. He outweighed the kid by 7 lbs but the kid was tough. He was taken down in the first two minutes but he didn't get pinned, he held off. Same thing happened in the second round.  So it was down to the last round. Job started on the top position and almost had the kid pinned. Both of these kids could work their shoulders so they weren't pinned but neither could get out of a bottom position. It was a good match up. When the third round was over, Job had lost by points but to me I considered it a win. He withstood the other wrestler. He worked hard, almost bridging out of the pin. They were both exhausted.

He's had to wrestle his own team mate twice and I think they just go out there and spar, having fun and laughing. I really like watching them have fun. The wrestlers seem to all get along and do things outside of wrestling at times.

"The mountains are calling and I must go" - John Muir

When the rain sets in, the skies push the grey down, the sun is a barely visible circle in the sky, I know I must seek the brightness of the mountains. Its a need of my soul to be surrounded by light, pushing the darkness away. The mountains offer that promise of light though temporarily. The white of the snow reflecting light all around even though the sun in nowhere in sight. We climb, first with the car, and then with our snowshoes on, pushing forward to possibly break through the clouds and feel that sun on our faces.

Artist point our destination, Isaac volunteered to sherpa the gear and Job attacked the mountain being in wrestling shape. At one point, John and I decided to walk around the hill so we could climb steadily but gradually while the young men went up the face. Unfortunately, once we reached the top they were nowhere in sight. We decided that they had gone ahead of us and we needed to catch up. Yet once we had crested the next hill, they were still nowhere to be found. It was then we realized that instead of turning towards Artist Point, they continued on, following the skiers tracks. They were lost; and that is how they felt about us. We regrouped within 20 minutes of wandering. Instead of the blue sky that would feed my soul, we found wind and clouds. Sheltering between a couple of hills, we quickly tore into our sandwiches, guzzled some hot chocolate and decided to turn around heading for the car. Once down the hill, the blue sky came out along with the camp robbers.  A good day and a little bit of sun for the soul at the end.

For the last few years, I've introduced peole to the eagles on the Nooksack. When we drive up and park, steeping out of the car, we can immediately hear the eagles call to one another. It is such a distinctive shriek and they chatter too. And when that person first catches a glimpse of one or two eagle soaring over head, joy and amazement wash over their face., it gives me a thrill. I absolutely love it. I take them down to the river, and crossing over logs or sometimes just wading through the water we find a spot to watch and photograph.  Sometimes the eagles are more active than other times but it is always a treat.