The fox is in the hole!

*Fire word of the week*

Bagger: The slowest person on the crew, or someone who is having difficulty keeping up.

"Babe, you are gonna LOVE it here!" Scott declares to me over the phone as I eagerly listen for any tidbit of information he cares to throw my way. What's the weather like? Hot. Is it green? Yes. Are there trees? Some, most on top of the mountains. Are there farms? Yes, apple orchards as far as the eye can see. Are there any animals? Let's just say the deer outnumber the squirrels and I almost hit a grouse a mile back. I tune out his voice for a moment and try to imagine what he is seeing, what he must be feeling driving up a country road with his jeep packed like a pioneer, pots literally hanging off of the side of his car, newness all around, the unknown dangerously close to becoming reality with each passing mile.

The jeep about to begin its trek up north.

Taken from the roadside, the Methow Valley. Look to the middle and the very right, you will just barely see the peaks of the snow capped Cascade range

A local grocery store in Winthrop. I wonder if they are selling the taxidermy or if it's the decor of choice?

My heart is eased though by the sound of his voice and the excitement that the land elicits in him. Imagine the Eastern Sierras, slightly more green, with a huge river running through it. That's the Methow Valley, my soon to be home in the next few months. I don't know why I have started taking life decisions so seriously. I used to throw caution to the wind, knowing in my bones that somehow everything was going to be okay so why worry? Just go do something and live! Now I feel like a shriveled leaf on a tree,  fretting about my inevitable next move, calculating every aspect of the decision as though my life depends on it, because, well, it does. At least, that's my excuse. Somewhere within the worry and the worst-case scenarios that I let play out in my mind there is a nugget of wisdom though that still whispers, it's gonna be okay. It will, won't it? My goal is to listen to that nugget more often until the whisper becomes a scream.

I think of my parents yet again, their big move in their late twenties, leaving behind their native land for America, their furniture, their families, their life, everything. I think of me leaving my mother and father without telling them, never knowing when I would see them again. The thought almost sickens me. How does one have such courage and not falter? Where does it come from? I ask my mother and she looks at me with a sideways glance. "Ve vere young and stupid" she says in her thick accent. Oh. And here I am mistaking stupidity for courage. I am forced to laugh a big hearty belly laugh at my mother's subtle wisdom. The beauty and irony of life is that it is in the eye of the beholder. Like a knotted up ball of yarn, the more you pull the more tight it winds itself into the knot. If somehow you are able to let go and work the yarn loosely, more often than not the knot seems to just kinda come undone on it's own.

I suppose my fretting really comes down to caring an awful lot for myself and my well being. Let go, says the ball of yarn. Be young and stupid, says my mother. It's gonna be okay, says the nugget. Yeah! And as I reflect on my ongoing inner turmoil, I remember Scott and his ordeal that starts at 0800 tomorrow morning. I think of the nervousness, the butterflies that must be flying around causing windstorms in his belly, the mind game of knowing there is six weeks of unimaginable training ahead and whether you have prepared enough to pass the test. I hold silent gratitude for this uncomfortable but necessary process for I feel somehow that as we both review courage, strength, and conviction we are in our own ways chipping away at the rough parts and becoming stronger individuals who have the courage to move through life no matter what. I can only imagine what we can achieve with our powers combined!

Home base!