November 2014
Two Saturdays ago, I went on an adventure with my Dad. We went to the Lazy J Tree Farm to buy a crate of apples, and we got some leeks while we were there. My dad is friends with the farmer who owns Lazy J, Steve. He was his first boss when he moved here, and he said he was around the age of one of his older brothers so they formed a special bond and have been friends ever since. Every year we go to Lazy J to self-cut our Christmas Tree and my favorite memory was getting hot apple cider in the barn afterwards. We asked Steve if we could see his cabin. Steve had started building this cabin on his property when he was about my age but put it on the back burner when other things came up in his life. And now, forty years later, he picked up where he left off.
This cabin was incredible. I have gained an interest in architecture lately, being especially fascinated by the Tiny House Movement. I've been reading A Place of My Own by my favorite author, Micheal Pollan. I've already been obsessing on floor plans and things, and even have a rough sketch of what I want in Tiny House. It's the way to go for college students because it is a financially sound option, and there need only be enough space for one person. My goal is to have it built by the time I'm a junior in college.
Steve could totally help me build my Tiny House. He obviously knows a lot about construction, and so does my dad. They can help me so much. So could my friend Lynley and her husband who are building a Tiny House right now and will be ready to move in by February(http://agnewtinyhouse.blogspot.com/) . I realized lately that this whole time during my senior year, I have been networking, but I didn't know it. I read that word on collegeboard.org once and it felt overwhelming. But it is fun! It's actually kind of easy, maintaining connections that could be beneficial to me in the future.
After Lazy J, Dad and I went to Nash's Farm Store, Dunguness Valley Creamery, and the Sunny Farms Store. That night he made potato and leek soup with the ingredients we bought. While I was relaxing on the couch, he handed me some mail. One was a brochure from Whitman College, my former dream college until I realized that none of their majors were appealing to me (and I didn't want to drown in student dept from a private school for the rest of my life). But the other content of the mail pile was a package from The Evergreen State College. I don't think my dad realized that this was probably my letter telling me if I'd gotten in or not because I've been so bombarded with mail from colleges for the last several months that we don't really give mail a second look anymore. But my heart was pounding as I opened this bulky envelope. I've thought about it a lot and I know Evergreen is the perfect place for me. Every aspect is perfect: the academics, the learning philosophy, the location, the price, the size.... I even wrote an extensive blog page (Me in 3064 Words) about it after an overwhelming and terrifying tour of campus last summer.
Evergreen has a 96% acceptance rate, and I'm an honors student with a long list of extracurricular accomplishments (and the admissions recruiter, Erin, loves me; no big deal), so I had no doubt that I was going to be accepted. I just wanted to be able to have that comfort and security of knowing for sure where I am going to be in a year from now.
The first word I read on the letter was "congratulations," and I just started balling.
The words that followed went something like "It is my honor to offer you admission to The Evergreen State College!" At the end it said "I hope you choose to accept this offer of admission." For once, someone wants me, instead of just putting up with my presence. So far most people are indifferent if they don't hate me, and there are few who actually want me. I also read that they want to award me with a $600 academic achievement scholarship. And that's before applying for financial aid.
I took a few moments to read and cry happily, and then my dad came in the room and I stood up and pranced around to him while saying, "I'm going to Evergreen!" Then I hugged him, and I can't remember the last time I hugged my dad like that.
That was a good day. Yeah, I would say that was a day well lived.
Various journaling, philosophy, analysis, and essay scraps of a college student
Showing posts with label Sequim WA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sequim WA. Show all posts
I Love Sequim, Washington
September-November 2014
This post took forever to finish itself for publication. I started it in September and am just now releasing it. In the last few months, I noticed just how wonderful and beautiful my home is. My rural hometown Sequim, luscious Washington state, the house I grew up in, the spacious yard complete with a huge garden and chicken coop.... I never fully appreciated it until recently. The trees, the water, the mountains... and the FARMS. I love farms. I have some theories about what opened my eyes to this awakened appreciation: discovering the wisdom of the Mary Jane's Farm franchise and lifestyle, Sequim Irrigation Festival Royalty, and - ironically - thinking/dreaming about the future.
About a year ago, I discovered a magazine called MaryJane'sFarm. I fell in love with it from the beginning. It is unlike any other magazine: it includes advice, inspiration, literary essays, recipes, DIY instructions, stories, news, how-tos, ideas, and spotlight features for real-life Farmgirls, all as part of a heartfelt celebration of simple living and womanhood. It values the creative pleasures of farming, crafting, community, cooking, sewing, reading, baking, blogging, gardening, quilting, writing, scrapbooking, and decorating. I have tried to quell my habit of compulsive magazine buying upon my realizing that books exist for knowledge, whereas magazines exist for consumption. But alas, MaryJane'sFarm is the one "magazine" that is unique above all the rest because of its certain genuineness and warmth. Mary Jane is a real person, not just an idea, and she really does have a farm: in Moscow, Idaho to be exact. In addition to editing her own magazine, she runs a "Sisterhood" organization where members can complete tasks to better their lives and earn badges, much like an adult version of girl scouts. She truly believes in the womanly dignity of being self-sufficient and including natural humble beauty in everything one does. So, in a way, I wouldn't really classify MaryJane'sFarm as a magazine so much as a way of life. It doesn't adhere to the mainstream magazine formula ideologies and Weltanschauung of consumerism and cheap convenience.
I didn't think the rural farm lifestyle was near me, nor did I think that lifestyle was for me. I thought of "farmers" as dirty overall-wearing hicks. Not me. But I looked up from this magazine and noticed the big garden and chickens in my backyard, the neighbor's goats, the horses down the road, the hay fields that surround my house, the cows across the road. The historic farmhouse down one way of the road and a historic railroad bridge over a river down the other, and the famous irrigation ditch streaming all the way down the road. There is and has always been inspiration in my own backyard, and MaryJane'sFarm opened my eyes to that. Reading this charming and inspirational magazine, I will admit that I felt a little ashamed that I wasn't as self-sufficient or backwoods-y as the cowgirl-y women featured. But over time the concept grew on me. I even found myself wanting my own mini farm. Me! Who knew?
My childhood was a contrasting binary of urban and rural juxtapositions. In kindergarten I wanted to be a farmer when I grew up because I loved growing gardens and I loved animals. I had my own plot of my family's garden where I loved growing vegetables and flowers. I even gave names to all my flowers, which were a rainbow of six different colors. But when I was a little older I was easily enticed by the glamour and fast exciting tempo of city life. When I took trips to Seattle and Victoria, Canada I was dazzled by the massive glimmering skyscrapers and the strange street performers. Big, sparkly cities are preached as being run by and centered around an energetic elan vital. I was convinced that when I was twenty and my sister was eighteen, we would move to New York and play guitar and sing on the street so we could get "discovered" and be popstars. There was always something going on: an embodiment of a culture that complies to instant gratification. It isn't like that in Sequim. Third through fifth grade I wanted to be a popstar or fashion designer, starstruck by Hannah Montana and Lisa Frank. I don't repudiate those thoughts or wishes; they are a part of me. I have always been very girly, and remain so today. I hated boring, ugly things and believed everything should be pretty and touched by beauty. Sixth grade was a turning point, a changing time. Different parts of my brain awakened, and I started viewing the world with a more realistic, structured, aware, intentional fascination with an air of naive, unrealistic permanence. When I started learning more about the world, I learned of all the problems in it: poverty, crime, pollution, consumerism.... and noticed that urban environments are concentrated epitomes of all these problems. I went to Seattle again and suddenly there was a fake, dirty vibe about the city. The street performers were not fasinating, exciting characters, musicians and entertainers anymore: they were poor homeless people laid off of work, trying to scrap together some money from the tourists. The big city is a phony pseudoutopia, swindling innocent dreamers. It is a guided site: glorious and promising on the outside, but dark, lonely and betraying on the inside.
One day I was feeling fatigued, so I went outside for a few minutes for some "nature therapy." The last apple on my tree so high that I could not reach it from the ground. The thing about nature and the homemade lifestyle is that it forces one to be creative. This tree was very small when I first planted it as a little girl; this year she outgrew me. I climbed the rope ladder up to the second story of the nearby old playhouse my brother and sister used to play in when we were little. I gingerly stepped across the roof and plucked the fruit. I bit into the sweet juicy thing, still perched on the old roof. This view was so interesting. I pivoted to face the opposite direction of the tree, looking down over my family's large garden. I went into the house to get my book, A Place of My Own by Micheal Pollan. Then I returned to the roof. I was drawn to that place in space; the surroundings and views fed off of each other to create the optimal serenity and coziness. A Place of My Own is all about appreciation for space and architecture, and it has helped stir a dream in me to build a "place of my own" for myself with my own two hands. Pollan didn't hire someone to build this for him because the reason he built it was to vacate from the abstract "world of words" in his writing career, and experience something in the physical world, through the construction of a building.
I read part of this book aloud to Dad when we were driving to Olympia to tour The Evergreen State College. Not being a big reader himself (that's where I got my difficulty with reading), he seemed disconnected, intimidated by the sophisticated philosophy, and even regarded Pollan as foolish for getting into something where he hadn't the slightest idea what he was doing. Here, and in many other instances, I dismissed my parents as not understanding and lacking ambition. But looking out over my yard on this roof, I remember my father built this playhouse, the greenhouse, patio pergola on which we grow grapes, the tool shed, and the chicken coop with his own two hands, a hammer, imagination, dreams, and ambition. My exploring and learning of the world led me back home.
At some point I accidentally dropped my bookmark and it fell off the roof, so I carefully climbed down the garden trellis, got it, and climbed back up. It gave me a confident, powerful feeling. I got here and could go back.
I never realized how amazing the life my parents have made for me is. If I were to pick somewhere to live, Sequim might be a place where I would live by choice. One day I was out and about in the town, and instead of coming home, I kept driving. It occurred to me that I have grown up in this small area, and yet there are so many spaces that are unfamiliar to me. For example, I was driving with my dad to a berry farm once and we passed a piece of property that was hosting a garage sale, and we checked it out. The yard was a fenced in space filled with chickens, ducks, geese, and sheep, all wondering around sharing the same pasture. I explained to Dad that that is the kind of yard I want to have someday. But that's what I mean - that place offers inspiration and connection, and yet I never knew that property was there.
Another example isdowntown Sequim, which is ironic. How did I miss that? One would think I would be familiar with the most Sequim-y part of Sequim. In the heart of Sequim lies amazing small businesses, many of which don't sell a certain type of merchandise, but rather categorize their product by theme or decor. "Over the Fence" is a garden + patio, furniture, bath + utility, home accents + decor, and kitchen shop. "Heather Creek" sells found objects, up-cycled furniture, and fragrances for body & home, and all of it is displayed in French Country inspired decor. "Red Rooster Grocery" is a small organic grocery. "Doodlebugs" is a small scrapbooking and craft store. And my favorite, "Fieldnotes," the name of which inspired the title of this blog, sells decorations, stationary, clothing, books, and dreams. :) It is pathetic that everyone knows where Walmart is but no one knows where any of these gems are.
There have been many a country song written about this
phenomenon, like Taylor Swift's unreleased song "Drive All Night." Or the song "Going Away" by Meg and Dia.
Now, every once and a while, I will take that out-on-a-limb turn out of the blue. I did that again the other day. I drive down the winding road passing the creamery and old Dungeness School House to Nash's Farm Store, and while I love that road, I always drive it. There is a road, Taylor Ranch, off of that one that sparked my interest, and one day I went down it. I saw where it took me. I got lost in my own small town! I loved it. The thing with that is that you are only lost for a short while, and if you keep driving you will end up in a familiar place. This road took me passed beautiful farms, to which I thought, "I never knew how much food we produce right here," and wondered why any Sequimite would shop at a big supermarket when we have such a bounty already. I even ended up at the beach at some point.... Then I turned back around and it took me passed a dairy farm. Then I became ecstatic when I recognized the property with all the farm animals living together in the front yard, and I freaked out as I took in as much as I could. I saw chickens, and goats. They had goats too. Then it took me down the main road that goes right through downtown Sequim. My favorite shop and this blog's namesake, "Fieldnotes," and I freaked out yet again when I saw newly placed dazzling Christmas lights around the window. In the dim evening light, it was such a special sight. Then I realized that the people in the car next to me were staring at me, undoubtedly judging me. It is such a shame that most people in this world don't notice and appreciate the little things in life, and now I am the odd girl in traffic gawking at some lights on a store window.
On a similar adventure, I turned left onto a road that I didn't know where it lead. I freaked out when drove past Five Acre School, a preschool and private elementary and middle school, where I attended preschool years and years ago!! I was so excited! I kept driving along the road that looks over a small valley of cow pasture, and it was so special. My home is so small yet so big.
As a Sequim Irrigation Festival Princess, I travel all over the state to be in parades. I noticed how shitty other towns are compared to Sequim. Sequim is a retirement community and about 51% of the population is over 55 years old. Growing up, most of my peers hated Sequim because it is boring. Oh, and because of lavender.
See, Sequim is famous for having lavender farms. Every year we host the Lavender Festival in July. Most Sequimites I talk to about it said they hate lavender. They either hate the smell or are allergic to it. But I love lavender: the color, the smell, the taste, the look.... And I love all the farms! And the festival is so much fun! I love being a tourist in my own town. The local restaurants jump on board and serve lavender dishes. The farms have activities like tours, cooking demonstrations and entertainment, and the park and street is filled with tent vendors selling food and handmade finds.
One of my last parades was in Leavenworth. That is such a charming town. It is themed - yes, themed, the whole city - Bavarian. The buildings and everything. German-esque. On the journey out there, we passed through forest. I decided that I either want to live in a small house in the suburbs or a big house in the middle of nowhere. The other girls were talking about this, and the queen said she feels like it would be scary living in a desert place like this. That's the initial response, but not without reason: one might be lonely living in such a segregated place. But I thought about it, and asked the question I've been asking a lot lately, "why not?" The queen said you would be far from schools. But I an going to homeschool my future kids. Then the royalty mom said "what if you forgot bread and milk at the store? Then you'd have to travel miles to go back!" But again I discredited that conflict: I would make my own bread, and I would have goats or something to milk. When every objection to living here didn't apply to me, I realized that it wouldn't be boring or inconvenient to live in a place like this. It would be nice. I pictured it: an picturesque estate, a huge garden, chickens of course, some goats, sheep, a small orchard.... It was lovely.
Last Saturday I went with my dad to a class that he teaches. He is a conservationist and that day he lead his class through a rain garden that was a project of the conservation district. I realized how little I knew about my parents' careers and I regret not soaking up more of it through my childhood. Afterwards, the class migrated to a property in Gardiner, where the owner, Paul Gautschi, toured us through his garden teaching us that how to succeed in gardening is by imitating nature. This was an incredible experience and I felt so elevated and empowered for the rest of the weekend.
I love Gardiner. I first learned of this unincorporated community neighboring Sequim when my ballet studio regularly held class in a facility there in eighth grade. My teacher would meet us after school and we would carpool out to a cabin among luscious trees about 20 minutes outside Sequim. The building didn't have indoor heating but we lit the fireplace before class sometimes in the winter. Gardiner is a beautiful, enchanting place. And apparently my parents have owned land there since before I was born that I didn't know about until a few years ago. I want to go to that property sometime and just hang out. Sit in the grass, climb in the trees, explore. Experience.
It wasn't until my grandfather passed away that I learned how incredible of a person his wife is. Diane is not my biological grandmother: my real grandma died when my mother was eight, so I never knew her. But my grandfather remarried to Diane, and I consider her my grandmother. She is an inspirational lady to whom I look up with awe: she has a PhD and taught as a university professor of classic literature, frequently traveling to Greece to do exchange teaching programs. Not only is my grandma accomplished in the professional world, which is exceptional for a woman of her time, but she still stays true to the domestic arts! She is an experienced quilter and quilts by hand. When she retired, she bought an abundance of animals and now geese, rabbits, sheep, chickens, dogs, cats and pretty much everything else are being raised in her backyard. I want to go spend spring break with her this year so I could help take care of her animals and so she could teach me how to sew and quilt, and so she could mentor me and pass on her wisdom.
Before this year, I spent a lot of time dreaming about an idyllic adult life for the future: a small sufficient house, a mini-farm, four homeschooled kids, and a tall red-headed husband. I was living in the future and the past because my present was so unbearable. I had the mindset of "Once I have this, then I will be happy (or I will be able to accomplish this or I will be healthy or whatever)." But after my rebirth after junior year, I realized since then that life is an accumulation of sub-stories overlapping each other, constantly in flux and never frozen in a snapshot of one perfect time. So until one lives in the present, she will never be truly happy because that utopian moment is never going to come. Then I looked around and noticed all the beauty and life and resources that were around me all along.
I have made some lifestyle changes because of this realization. I made making dinner every Monday a goal of mine. It occurred to me that despite growing up with a huge garden in my yard, I don't know the plants or how to harvest or prepare them. So I am determined to pack a childhood of learning into this last year I will spend living on this property. I spent last Saturday helping my dad in the yard: I put on my work shoes and jeans, braided my hair in the iconic Mary Jane Butters long side braid and borrowed one of Dad's sweatshirts and planted garlic, dug up yard turf to make room for mulch, pruned asparagus and artichokes plants, learned how to use a drill and unscrewed some nails in the greenhouse.
This post took forever to finish itself for publication. I started it in September and am just now releasing it. In the last few months, I noticed just how wonderful and beautiful my home is. My rural hometown Sequim, luscious Washington state, the house I grew up in, the spacious yard complete with a huge garden and chicken coop.... I never fully appreciated it until recently. The trees, the water, the mountains... and the FARMS. I love farms. I have some theories about what opened my eyes to this awakened appreciation: discovering the wisdom of the Mary Jane's Farm franchise and lifestyle, Sequim Irrigation Festival Royalty, and - ironically - thinking/dreaming about the future.
About a year ago, I discovered a magazine called MaryJane'sFarm. I fell in love with it from the beginning. It is unlike any other magazine: it includes advice, inspiration, literary essays, recipes, DIY instructions, stories, news, how-tos, ideas, and spotlight features for real-life Farmgirls, all as part of a heartfelt celebration of simple living and womanhood. It values the creative pleasures of farming, crafting, community, cooking, sewing, reading, baking, blogging, gardening, quilting, writing, scrapbooking, and decorating. I have tried to quell my habit of compulsive magazine buying upon my realizing that books exist for knowledge, whereas magazines exist for consumption. But alas, MaryJane'sFarm is the one "magazine" that is unique above all the rest because of its certain genuineness and warmth. Mary Jane is a real person, not just an idea, and she really does have a farm: in Moscow, Idaho to be exact. In addition to editing her own magazine, she runs a "Sisterhood" organization where members can complete tasks to better their lives and earn badges, much like an adult version of girl scouts. She truly believes in the womanly dignity of being self-sufficient and including natural humble beauty in everything one does. So, in a way, I wouldn't really classify MaryJane'sFarm as a magazine so much as a way of life. It doesn't adhere to the mainstream magazine formula ideologies and Weltanschauung of consumerism and cheap convenience.
I didn't think the rural farm lifestyle was near me, nor did I think that lifestyle was for me. I thought of "farmers" as dirty overall-wearing hicks. Not me. But I looked up from this magazine and noticed the big garden and chickens in my backyard, the neighbor's goats, the horses down the road, the hay fields that surround my house, the cows across the road. The historic farmhouse down one way of the road and a historic railroad bridge over a river down the other, and the famous irrigation ditch streaming all the way down the road. There is and has always been inspiration in my own backyard, and MaryJane'sFarm opened my eyes to that. Reading this charming and inspirational magazine, I will admit that I felt a little ashamed that I wasn't as self-sufficient or backwoods-y as the cowgirl-y women featured. But over time the concept grew on me. I even found myself wanting my own mini farm. Me! Who knew?
My childhood was a contrasting binary of urban and rural juxtapositions. In kindergarten I wanted to be a farmer when I grew up because I loved growing gardens and I loved animals. I had my own plot of my family's garden where I loved growing vegetables and flowers. I even gave names to all my flowers, which were a rainbow of six different colors. But when I was a little older I was easily enticed by the glamour and fast exciting tempo of city life. When I took trips to Seattle and Victoria, Canada I was dazzled by the massive glimmering skyscrapers and the strange street performers. Big, sparkly cities are preached as being run by and centered around an energetic elan vital. I was convinced that when I was twenty and my sister was eighteen, we would move to New York and play guitar and sing on the street so we could get "discovered" and be popstars. There was always something going on: an embodiment of a culture that complies to instant gratification. It isn't like that in Sequim. Third through fifth grade I wanted to be a popstar or fashion designer, starstruck by Hannah Montana and Lisa Frank. I don't repudiate those thoughts or wishes; they are a part of me. I have always been very girly, and remain so today. I hated boring, ugly things and believed everything should be pretty and touched by beauty. Sixth grade was a turning point, a changing time. Different parts of my brain awakened, and I started viewing the world with a more realistic, structured, aware, intentional fascination with an air of naive, unrealistic permanence. When I started learning more about the world, I learned of all the problems in it: poverty, crime, pollution, consumerism.... and noticed that urban environments are concentrated epitomes of all these problems. I went to Seattle again and suddenly there was a fake, dirty vibe about the city. The street performers were not fasinating, exciting characters, musicians and entertainers anymore: they were poor homeless people laid off of work, trying to scrap together some money from the tourists. The big city is a phony pseudoutopia, swindling innocent dreamers. It is a guided site: glorious and promising on the outside, but dark, lonely and betraying on the inside.
One day I was feeling fatigued, so I went outside for a few minutes for some "nature therapy." The last apple on my tree so high that I could not reach it from the ground. The thing about nature and the homemade lifestyle is that it forces one to be creative. This tree was very small when I first planted it as a little girl; this year she outgrew me. I climbed the rope ladder up to the second story of the nearby old playhouse my brother and sister used to play in when we were little. I gingerly stepped across the roof and plucked the fruit. I bit into the sweet juicy thing, still perched on the old roof. This view was so interesting. I pivoted to face the opposite direction of the tree, looking down over my family's large garden. I went into the house to get my book, A Place of My Own by Micheal Pollan. Then I returned to the roof. I was drawn to that place in space; the surroundings and views fed off of each other to create the optimal serenity and coziness. A Place of My Own is all about appreciation for space and architecture, and it has helped stir a dream in me to build a "place of my own" for myself with my own two hands. Pollan didn't hire someone to build this for him because the reason he built it was to vacate from the abstract "world of words" in his writing career, and experience something in the physical world, through the construction of a building.
I read part of this book aloud to Dad when we were driving to Olympia to tour The Evergreen State College. Not being a big reader himself (that's where I got my difficulty with reading), he seemed disconnected, intimidated by the sophisticated philosophy, and even regarded Pollan as foolish for getting into something where he hadn't the slightest idea what he was doing. Here, and in many other instances, I dismissed my parents as not understanding and lacking ambition. But looking out over my yard on this roof, I remember my father built this playhouse, the greenhouse, patio pergola on which we grow grapes, the tool shed, and the chicken coop with his own two hands, a hammer, imagination, dreams, and ambition. My exploring and learning of the world led me back home.
At some point I accidentally dropped my bookmark and it fell off the roof, so I carefully climbed down the garden trellis, got it, and climbed back up. It gave me a confident, powerful feeling. I got here and could go back.
I never realized how amazing the life my parents have made for me is. If I were to pick somewhere to live, Sequim might be a place where I would live by choice. One day I was out and about in the town, and instead of coming home, I kept driving. It occurred to me that I have grown up in this small area, and yet there are so many spaces that are unfamiliar to me. For example, I was driving with my dad to a berry farm once and we passed a piece of property that was hosting a garage sale, and we checked it out. The yard was a fenced in space filled with chickens, ducks, geese, and sheep, all wondering around sharing the same pasture. I explained to Dad that that is the kind of yard I want to have someday. But that's what I mean - that place offers inspiration and connection, and yet I never knew that property was there.
Another example isdowntown Sequim, which is ironic. How did I miss that? One would think I would be familiar with the most Sequim-y part of Sequim. In the heart of Sequim lies amazing small businesses, many of which don't sell a certain type of merchandise, but rather categorize their product by theme or decor. "Over the Fence" is a garden + patio, furniture, bath + utility, home accents + decor, and kitchen shop. "Heather Creek" sells found objects, up-cycled furniture, and fragrances for body & home, and all of it is displayed in French Country inspired decor. "Red Rooster Grocery" is a small organic grocery. "Doodlebugs" is a small scrapbooking and craft store. And my favorite, "Fieldnotes," the name of which inspired the title of this blog, sells decorations, stationary, clothing, books, and dreams. :) It is pathetic that everyone knows where Walmart is but no one knows where any of these gems are.
Now, every once and a while, I will take that out-on-a-limb turn out of the blue. I did that again the other day. I drive down the winding road passing the creamery and old Dungeness School House to Nash's Farm Store, and while I love that road, I always drive it. There is a road, Taylor Ranch, off of that one that sparked my interest, and one day I went down it. I saw where it took me. I got lost in my own small town! I loved it. The thing with that is that you are only lost for a short while, and if you keep driving you will end up in a familiar place. This road took me passed beautiful farms, to which I thought, "I never knew how much food we produce right here," and wondered why any Sequimite would shop at a big supermarket when we have such a bounty already. I even ended up at the beach at some point.... Then I turned back around and it took me passed a dairy farm. Then I became ecstatic when I recognized the property with all the farm animals living together in the front yard, and I freaked out as I took in as much as I could. I saw chickens, and goats. They had goats too. Then it took me down the main road that goes right through downtown Sequim. My favorite shop and this blog's namesake, "Fieldnotes," and I freaked out yet again when I saw newly placed dazzling Christmas lights around the window. In the dim evening light, it was such a special sight. Then I realized that the people in the car next to me were staring at me, undoubtedly judging me. It is such a shame that most people in this world don't notice and appreciate the little things in life, and now I am the odd girl in traffic gawking at some lights on a store window.
On a similar adventure, I turned left onto a road that I didn't know where it lead. I freaked out when drove past Five Acre School, a preschool and private elementary and middle school, where I attended preschool years and years ago!! I was so excited! I kept driving along the road that looks over a small valley of cow pasture, and it was so special. My home is so small yet so big.
As a Sequim Irrigation Festival Princess, I travel all over the state to be in parades. I noticed how shitty other towns are compared to Sequim. Sequim is a retirement community and about 51% of the population is over 55 years old. Growing up, most of my peers hated Sequim because it is boring. Oh, and because of lavender.
See, Sequim is famous for having lavender farms. Every year we host the Lavender Festival in July. Most Sequimites I talk to about it said they hate lavender. They either hate the smell or are allergic to it. But I love lavender: the color, the smell, the taste, the look.... And I love all the farms! And the festival is so much fun! I love being a tourist in my own town. The local restaurants jump on board and serve lavender dishes. The farms have activities like tours, cooking demonstrations and entertainment, and the park and street is filled with tent vendors selling food and handmade finds.
One of my last parades was in Leavenworth. That is such a charming town. It is themed - yes, themed, the whole city - Bavarian. The buildings and everything. German-esque. On the journey out there, we passed through forest. I decided that I either want to live in a small house in the suburbs or a big house in the middle of nowhere. The other girls were talking about this, and the queen said she feels like it would be scary living in a desert place like this. That's the initial response, but not without reason: one might be lonely living in such a segregated place. But I thought about it, and asked the question I've been asking a lot lately, "why not?" The queen said you would be far from schools. But I an going to homeschool my future kids. Then the royalty mom said "what if you forgot bread and milk at the store? Then you'd have to travel miles to go back!" But again I discredited that conflict: I would make my own bread, and I would have goats or something to milk. When every objection to living here didn't apply to me, I realized that it wouldn't be boring or inconvenient to live in a place like this. It would be nice. I pictured it: an picturesque estate, a huge garden, chickens of course, some goats, sheep, a small orchard.... It was lovely.
Last Saturday I went with my dad to a class that he teaches. He is a conservationist and that day he lead his class through a rain garden that was a project of the conservation district. I realized how little I knew about my parents' careers and I regret not soaking up more of it through my childhood. Afterwards, the class migrated to a property in Gardiner, where the owner, Paul Gautschi, toured us through his garden teaching us that how to succeed in gardening is by imitating nature. This was an incredible experience and I felt so elevated and empowered for the rest of the weekend.
I love Gardiner. I first learned of this unincorporated community neighboring Sequim when my ballet studio regularly held class in a facility there in eighth grade. My teacher would meet us after school and we would carpool out to a cabin among luscious trees about 20 minutes outside Sequim. The building didn't have indoor heating but we lit the fireplace before class sometimes in the winter. Gardiner is a beautiful, enchanting place. And apparently my parents have owned land there since before I was born that I didn't know about until a few years ago. I want to go to that property sometime and just hang out. Sit in the grass, climb in the trees, explore. Experience.
It wasn't until my grandfather passed away that I learned how incredible of a person his wife is. Diane is not my biological grandmother: my real grandma died when my mother was eight, so I never knew her. But my grandfather remarried to Diane, and I consider her my grandmother. She is an inspirational lady to whom I look up with awe: she has a PhD and taught as a university professor of classic literature, frequently traveling to Greece to do exchange teaching programs. Not only is my grandma accomplished in the professional world, which is exceptional for a woman of her time, but she still stays true to the domestic arts! She is an experienced quilter and quilts by hand. When she retired, she bought an abundance of animals and now geese, rabbits, sheep, chickens, dogs, cats and pretty much everything else are being raised in her backyard. I want to go spend spring break with her this year so I could help take care of her animals and so she could teach me how to sew and quilt, and so she could mentor me and pass on her wisdom.
Before this year, I spent a lot of time dreaming about an idyllic adult life for the future: a small sufficient house, a mini-farm, four homeschooled kids, and a tall red-headed husband. I was living in the future and the past because my present was so unbearable. I had the mindset of "Once I have this, then I will be happy (or I will be able to accomplish this or I will be healthy or whatever)." But after my rebirth after junior year, I realized since then that life is an accumulation of sub-stories overlapping each other, constantly in flux and never frozen in a snapshot of one perfect time. So until one lives in the present, she will never be truly happy because that utopian moment is never going to come. Then I looked around and noticed all the beauty and life and resources that were around me all along.
I have made some lifestyle changes because of this realization. I made making dinner every Monday a goal of mine. It occurred to me that despite growing up with a huge garden in my yard, I don't know the plants or how to harvest or prepare them. So I am determined to pack a childhood of learning into this last year I will spend living on this property. I spent last Saturday helping my dad in the yard: I put on my work shoes and jeans, braided my hair in the iconic Mary Jane Butters long side braid and borrowed one of Dad's sweatshirts and planted garlic, dug up yard turf to make room for mulch, pruned asparagus and artichokes plants, learned how to use a drill and unscrewed some nails in the greenhouse.
A Tribute to Red Rooster Grocery
November 2014
I spent the better part of my morning today outlining Mary Jane's Farm magazines (yes, I do that. It helps me organize, understand and appreciate. Don't judge) after I did the Sisterhood Issues and Raising Jane Blog yesterday. Burying myself in the Mary Jane Lifestyle for a few hours helps me gain a renewed appreciation for life and puts me in a good mood.
By the time afternoon rolled around, I was feeling serene and peaceful. I walked to Pan d'Amore, a small local bakery that's run by a cute little old man who makes you feel like you walked into the 1940s when you walk into the two-by-four of a store. I was in the mood for something carb-y and sweet, like a soft chocolate cookie. But I saw something else: thick pizza, with artichoke hearts, whole olives, pesto, and I think sun-dried tomatoes. I asked if I could have just one half of a square, and the cute old man said "we don't usually do that, but I'll do that for you." Then I ate it outside of Hurricane Coffee, the local coffee shop on the other side of the street. I saw a huge, intimidating red truck drive by that had rows of Coca-Cola bottles printed on the side. I cringed at the sight.
Then I realized I never satisfied my cookie craving, so I walked over to Red Rooster Grocery. I discovered this little shop that's tucked behind a scrapbooking shop downtown a few years ago and fell in love with it. I have patronized this organic food shop ever since. In fact, last year when I didn't have any friends to sit with at lunch I would drive down the road to Red Rooster Grocery alone and buy lunch and eat in my car. It was just me, my silver Camry, and my vegan sandwich made with sprouted-grain bread. Now my car smells like junior year: loneliness, the salads and dried fruit my mom packed in my lunch, and soups and chocolate from Red Rooster Grocery. I go to Red Rooster at least once a week; after school, during lunch, when I'm downtown. It is conveniently right down the road from the high school. I have brought so many people there who never knew it existed. I have had many conversations with the husband-and-wife owners and their employees who know me by name.
But when I bought my cookie (and peanut butter cup... I really wanted chocolate in that moment. Don't judge.) the woman asked me if I was on their email list, and I said no. She looked sad and mournful. She said she had some news. They are closing the store soon. Like, closing forever. They are shutting down. They won't be in business anymore. I asked why, and she said "lots of reasons." The news hit me like the news that someone had died. It was so sudden. This little store had been my companion in the midst of solitude. She and the man who was ringing me up thanked me multiple times for my patronage over the years, and I thanked them back.
This made me so frustrated. Earlier that day I had seen a Coca-Cola truck transporting hundreds of bottles of the soda. We live in a world where soda companies are so powerful, and adorable organic groceries cannot stay open?? Reading Mary Jane's Farm so much lately has committed me to the special, unique things in life, like small businesses. If anyone happens to come across this little corner of the internet and has read this far, I want them to walk away from this and go give love, appreciation, patronage and support for your local merchants, especially organic farmers. In honor of Red Rooster Grocery, I have vowed to only patronize small enterprises from now on. I will continue to patronize Pan d'Amore, Rainshadow Coffee around the corner, Good to Go Grocery in Port Angeles, and Nash's Farm Store. They need me now more than ever. I will promise to make all of my purchases meaningful. I think I shall write the owners a handwritten letter disclosing my appreciation and best wishes.
I spent the better part of my morning today outlining Mary Jane's Farm magazines (yes, I do that. It helps me organize, understand and appreciate. Don't judge) after I did the Sisterhood Issues and Raising Jane Blog yesterday. Burying myself in the Mary Jane Lifestyle for a few hours helps me gain a renewed appreciation for life and puts me in a good mood.
By the time afternoon rolled around, I was feeling serene and peaceful. I walked to Pan d'Amore, a small local bakery that's run by a cute little old man who makes you feel like you walked into the 1940s when you walk into the two-by-four of a store. I was in the mood for something carb-y and sweet, like a soft chocolate cookie. But I saw something else: thick pizza, with artichoke hearts, whole olives, pesto, and I think sun-dried tomatoes. I asked if I could have just one half of a square, and the cute old man said "we don't usually do that, but I'll do that for you." Then I ate it outside of Hurricane Coffee, the local coffee shop on the other side of the street. I saw a huge, intimidating red truck drive by that had rows of Coca-Cola bottles printed on the side. I cringed at the sight.
Then I realized I never satisfied my cookie craving, so I walked over to Red Rooster Grocery. I discovered this little shop that's tucked behind a scrapbooking shop downtown a few years ago and fell in love with it. I have patronized this organic food shop ever since. In fact, last year when I didn't have any friends to sit with at lunch I would drive down the road to Red Rooster Grocery alone and buy lunch and eat in my car. It was just me, my silver Camry, and my vegan sandwich made with sprouted-grain bread. Now my car smells like junior year: loneliness, the salads and dried fruit my mom packed in my lunch, and soups and chocolate from Red Rooster Grocery. I go to Red Rooster at least once a week; after school, during lunch, when I'm downtown. It is conveniently right down the road from the high school. I have brought so many people there who never knew it existed. I have had many conversations with the husband-and-wife owners and their employees who know me by name.
But when I bought my cookie (and peanut butter cup... I really wanted chocolate in that moment. Don't judge.) the woman asked me if I was on their email list, and I said no. She looked sad and mournful. She said she had some news. They are closing the store soon. Like, closing forever. They are shutting down. They won't be in business anymore. I asked why, and she said "lots of reasons." The news hit me like the news that someone had died. It was so sudden. This little store had been my companion in the midst of solitude. She and the man who was ringing me up thanked me multiple times for my patronage over the years, and I thanked them back.
This made me so frustrated. Earlier that day I had seen a Coca-Cola truck transporting hundreds of bottles of the soda. We live in a world where soda companies are so powerful, and adorable organic groceries cannot stay open?? Reading Mary Jane's Farm so much lately has committed me to the special, unique things in life, like small businesses. If anyone happens to come across this little corner of the internet and has read this far, I want them to walk away from this and go give love, appreciation, patronage and support for your local merchants, especially organic farmers. In honor of Red Rooster Grocery, I have vowed to only patronize small enterprises from now on. I will continue to patronize Pan d'Amore, Rainshadow Coffee around the corner, Good to Go Grocery in Port Angeles, and Nash's Farm Store. They need me now more than ever. I will promise to make all of my purchases meaningful. I think I shall write the owners a handwritten letter disclosing my appreciation and best wishes.
The frustrations with applying for jobs
October 2014
Lately I have worried that I am spreading myself too thin. I am too busy that I don't have time for all the things I want to accomplish. I have been behind on diary writing, and still have one long, extensive blog entry that I have yet to finish and publish. I also have been trying to read a little of my book every day, and I have certainly not been succeeding. I have never been a good reader, but, as my bucket list says, one of my goals in life is to gain a love of reading. I'm a writer, not a reader. But I believe reading is a valuable skill I should acquire and there are just so many books I want to say I've read! And not to mention I have prolonged applying to Evergreen State College, which I wanted to get out of the way in September.... I barely keep up with my schoolwork!
And yet, I just wasted a bunch of time applying to something that would potentially take up a lot more of my time. I applied to work at Joann Fabric, only to get to the end and see the question that says "Are you able to show documentation proving that you are 18 years or older?" I was reticent to apply in the first place because, obviously, I'm worried I don't have time, but also I didn't know if this was a professional type job or an after-school type job. I even called the store to ask what type it is, and she just said cashier and things. So I went ahead and dedicated myself to applying just to say I did. Why not? I was driving home from the college yesterday and nearly drove by Joann Fabrics before I pulled into the parking lot on a limb. When gathering paper stack collections and glitter adhesive paper to use for my scholarship notebook, I saw the notice on the door that read "now hiring." I got really excited! I wasn't going to let that excitement go to waste, now was I?
I have applied to a few other places but my schedule has never lined up with them. Such was the case for Adagios (a local coffee shop), Dungeness Valley Creamery (a raw milk dairy farm) and Oak Table Cafe (a from-scratch breakfast and lunch restaurant). Oak Table said they need people for weekends and they would only hire me if I was free all weekend. But I have Fellowship on Sunday, and I've been working there for three and a half years and really consider myself a Unitarian Universalist now. (I've worked as a paid childcare worker since I was 14 at the Olympic Unitarian Universalist Fellowship every Sunday). Going there really means a lot to me and I will not sell out for a different, more formal job. I still get my $60 a month from that, and I guess I will have to make do with that as long as I am this busy.
I concluded that I simply don't have the time for a real job right now. Applying to Joann Fabric was certainly one of those out-on-a-limb decisions, wasn't it now? My plan was to try and get a job at Nash's (an organic farm) I once school winds down. Prospects look good for that opportunity. I know Nash and his wife Patty, and they are family friends with my dad. I have been attending the educational presentations on GMOs held at the old barn building next to their farm store and have stuck up conversations with them while I was there, and they seem to like me and take me seriously. Patty even said "Oh, we need you to work for us!" half jokingly when I explained to her what I want to study in college. Nash said they need seasonals starting in June, which is perfect because that's when school gets out. I even suggested even a mere internship because at this point I don't care. I am so desperate for employers to want me. But Nash said they don't really do internships and they would rather just hire people, and I secretly said "yes!" in my head. So I don't expect to work for Joann but that's okay because I have plenty of other things with which to occupy my time.
Lately I have worried that I am spreading myself too thin. I am too busy that I don't have time for all the things I want to accomplish. I have been behind on diary writing, and still have one long, extensive blog entry that I have yet to finish and publish. I also have been trying to read a little of my book every day, and I have certainly not been succeeding. I have never been a good reader, but, as my bucket list says, one of my goals in life is to gain a love of reading. I'm a writer, not a reader. But I believe reading is a valuable skill I should acquire and there are just so many books I want to say I've read! And not to mention I have prolonged applying to Evergreen State College, which I wanted to get out of the way in September.... I barely keep up with my schoolwork!
And yet, I just wasted a bunch of time applying to something that would potentially take up a lot more of my time. I applied to work at Joann Fabric, only to get to the end and see the question that says "Are you able to show documentation proving that you are 18 years or older?" I was reticent to apply in the first place because, obviously, I'm worried I don't have time, but also I didn't know if this was a professional type job or an after-school type job. I even called the store to ask what type it is, and she just said cashier and things. So I went ahead and dedicated myself to applying just to say I did. Why not? I was driving home from the college yesterday and nearly drove by Joann Fabrics before I pulled into the parking lot on a limb. When gathering paper stack collections and glitter adhesive paper to use for my scholarship notebook, I saw the notice on the door that read "now hiring." I got really excited! I wasn't going to let that excitement go to waste, now was I?
I have applied to a few other places but my schedule has never lined up with them. Such was the case for Adagios (a local coffee shop), Dungeness Valley Creamery (a raw milk dairy farm) and Oak Table Cafe (a from-scratch breakfast and lunch restaurant). Oak Table said they need people for weekends and they would only hire me if I was free all weekend. But I have Fellowship on Sunday, and I've been working there for three and a half years and really consider myself a Unitarian Universalist now. (I've worked as a paid childcare worker since I was 14 at the Olympic Unitarian Universalist Fellowship every Sunday). Going there really means a lot to me and I will not sell out for a different, more formal job. I still get my $60 a month from that, and I guess I will have to make do with that as long as I am this busy.
I concluded that I simply don't have the time for a real job right now. Applying to Joann Fabric was certainly one of those out-on-a-limb decisions, wasn't it now? My plan was to try and get a job at Nash's (an organic farm) I once school winds down. Prospects look good for that opportunity. I know Nash and his wife Patty, and they are family friends with my dad. I have been attending the educational presentations on GMOs held at the old barn building next to their farm store and have stuck up conversations with them while I was there, and they seem to like me and take me seriously. Patty even said "Oh, we need you to work for us!" half jokingly when I explained to her what I want to study in college. Nash said they need seasonals starting in June, which is perfect because that's when school gets out. I even suggested even a mere internship because at this point I don't care. I am so desperate for employers to want me. But Nash said they don't really do internships and they would rather just hire people, and I secretly said "yes!" in my head. So I don't expect to work for Joann but that's okay because I have plenty of other things with which to occupy my time.
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