☀️On The Cabin I Know and the Answers I Don't
A July Letter about mountain curiosities and mid-summer finds
At the beginning of this month we made the journey across the midwest prairie land to the point where the ground rises to the heavens. The destination–our little cabin in the great Rocky Mountains.
I’ve been coming to this cabin my whole life. Literally. As the story goes, I was conceived here. And unlike any other home or city I’ve known in my life, this cabin has seen minimal changes. Everything about its structure, the surrounding area, and the journey to arrive is as familiar to me as my own voice.
From trekking across the Great Plains, as I did as a child living in Kansas, as a young adult from Chicago, and now with my only children from Minnesota, I know the path to the cabin well. I know the thrill when you first begin to decipher clouds from distant mountain peaks just outside of Denver. The point where the car engine begins to groan making its first climb into elevation. The feel of mountains hugging on either side as well as the intoxicating adrenalin when you reach a peak and see the valley stretching like a quilt.
I know the sound when the paved road becomes gravel, the first sign that the cabin is near. I know the smell of pine and the sound of constant rushing water over rocks. I know which porch rails are ours peeking through the trees as we drive, the old wooden sign that reads “Weston Pass Summer Homes,” and the feel of the gate as I swing it open.
I know the squeak of the old screen door, the way the eyes have to adjust to the dark cabin walls. I know how to watch for the sun to rise up over the first mountain peak in the morning and how to listen for the hummingbirds to greet the day. And while the flow of the streams widens or shrinks depending on the beavers' plan for it that year, it’s still a body of water I know like the lines of my palm.
The knowing is partly why I return every year. There comes a point when the constant churn of breaking news breaks me just a little. I don’t want any more new. I want something I know to be the same as it was yesterday and the day before that and the months and years and decades before that, as well as all the ones to come after. A home in the mountains gifts that to you. The peaks have been here for 70 million years or so. Even the stars we see at night are 1000s of years old. Therefore one could only calculate microscopic changes, if any, in my forty years of knowing this cabin. I’m not mad about that at all.
These days I think one of the greatest gifts of the cabin’s unchanging nature is in its technology, or rather lack thereof. In the mountains we have no internet, no cell connection, no electricity. Our smart phones dumb down to simple cameras and clocks and sound machines (my dad rolls his eyes at that last one.) No one ever complains. We know we need a reason to not be reached.
There’s one thing, though, that holds me back every year–google. And no, I don’t mean the trillion dollar company. I mean the verb. You never know how often you want an answer to something until you don’t have a way to look it up. It’s as reflexive as opening the social media apps and scrolling. I want to know about the weather, about a flower, about the lyrics to a song. I’m curious about the history of this mountain or how old it is (70 million as I told you above but only because I did a quick google search on my readily available wi-fi before typing it out.) I wonder about hummingbird habits and if Mary Oliver has written a poem about them.
Every time a question pops in my mind, I reach for my phone, and then I remember–I can’t get an answer right now. There’s a longing I feel then, brief, but it’s there.
As much as I wish I wasn’t so dependent on the internet’s constant availability feature, I like to be a person who asks questions. Being curious matters to me. I love how one question can lead to another, and while often this is my favorite means of procrastination, I rarely regret the time. Knowing more, like knowing a place, makes me feel closer to the world.
As a solution, I’ve developed a habit when I’m in the mountains of writing down the things I want to know in my notes app and title it “Things to Google.” It’s as satisfying as adding an item to a cart. Oftentimes, by the time I surface back into the world, I forget the question altogether. Simply noticing the curiosity in the moment is enough for me. Other questions, when given time without a quick answer, grow into something more than I first wondered.
I'm home now as I write this to you. We returned last weekend from our week-long visit to the mountains and after dumping the bags, I did my usual walk around the garden to see what was growing, and what wasn’t. The grass was not growing (thanks, climate change.) But the weeds were plentiful.
In the driveway along our fence there is a small strip of garden where I’ve planted sunflowers in past years. This year the seeds must have been too old because the plants never took off. Because of that, I haven’t paid attention to the weeds either. There’s one in particular that grows every year on either end of the dirt patch. I could never figure out what the plant was called. Google and all its plentiful knowledge wasn’t super helpful either. Some years I’d pull it out right away with the dandelions and creeping charlie. Other years I’d let it grow a few more feet to see if it did anything. But when I saw nothing worth keeping, I ripped it out and threw it in the compost.
Today, though, the weed has taken full advantage of my summer neglect. It stands at nearly 6 feet tall, surpassing even the cup flowers that usually dominate the height in my garden. And as I come in for a closer look, I see plump round buttons about to burst with yellow blooms. It’s funny how a questionable plant, when left alone, was given the opportunity to grow into something beautiful.
Remember one of the questions I had above, about the hummingbirds and Mary Oliver? Sure enough, I’ve since discovered she has written a poem, “Hummingbirds” in her collection White Pine. Like many of her other poems this one was about sitting in the tree tops as the day turned to night, watching and noticing the hummingbirds. It was the end that caught my attention:
Later the darkness fell
and the solid moon
like a white pond rose.
But I wasn’t in any hurry.
Likely I visited all
the shimmering, heart-stabbing
questions without answers
before I climbed down.
I’m thinking now about what it means to desire knowing, whether in a place that feels like home or in the curiosity found in treetops. I’m thinking about what it means to let questions grow for a little while longer before finding the answers. Or maybe what it means to let a question shimmer, with no hurry to find an answer.
May you find knowing and curiosity alike in the second half of your summer, friends.
Cheers,
Rachel
P.S. Here’s a video of our cabin trip if you are curious and want to know a bit more about the place I know.
SPEAKING OF…
a series where I string together all the things I’ve been meaning to tell you.
I’m taking us to summer camp in this month’s GIF journey, specifically Dirty Dancing as that’s been on my mind lately.
Speaking of Summer Camp…
Our summer got off to a weird start with the delayed school year from the teacher strike that put us right into day camps and then travel. I feel like I’m just now getting my footing. Summer always requires a new energy from me trying to find the right balance between freedom and structure. Here are some Camp Mom wins that have been holding me up this summer.
Play-away read along books came to our library this summer and the giant stack I picked up for our trip was a true travel winner. For the curious, it’s an audio book of picture books but built into the book making it very easy to take along and access. The reading is engaging, even paired with music for some. And having Leo able to enjoy books without me having to read to him is a win not just in the car but also at home when I need some SPACE.
Unfortunately space from the now four year old is rare these days. His favorite thing to do is play games and I’m meh about most kid games. Playing the Suspend game is something we’ve both enjoyed lately so that’s something.
Squeezing in time for exercise videos has gotten more tricky with our changed summer schedule. Trying to work out while getting kids fed etc. in the morning was turning into a battle. I found recently pairing the exercise videos with an art activity nearby is the perfect combo. I’m present to respond to every “hey mom look what I made!” comment but not really needed as much for help. Today we returned to Art for Kids Hub videos and they kept not just the 7 year old engaged but also the 4 year old. It was a good reminder to go back to activities we once enjoyed but forgot about.
But when I really need to be left ALONE during quiet time, putting on music keeps the four year old entertained for longer stretches, both in the house and in the car. Harry’s House is still a four year old fan favorite. And the Bluey Soundtrack is also getting a lot of play around here and I’m not mad about it. (Can’t wait for season 3!!)
Speaking of Bluey…
Leo turned four this month and requested a Bluey at the beach cake. I was happy to oblige as long as I could use these characters as the decoration. I’ve decided every cake must involve some sort of plastic object and a reason to decorate with crunched up things. It’s all the creativity I can muster in that department.
Speaking of Bluey at the Beach…
This summer has been hotter than Patrick Swayze on the dance floor. So the beach has been our safe place. When it came to finding Leo a birthday gift, I decided to lean into something fun in the water. This flamingo was exactly the answer.
Sadly it’s no longer in stock. But let this just be an encouragement to get the ridiculous float (this one would be great fun.) It will bring you so much joy. Just not on a windy day when it is likely to float across entire lake if left unattended for 30 seconds by a child. Just saying.
However, lugging that thing to the beach feels like carrying a watermelon so this smaller float is great for rolling up and throwing in your beach bag.
I was looking for a dupe for the Supergoop Unscreen because I’m cheap. Trader Joe’s had one this season but I could never find it in stock. But I did find this Neutrogena one and love the dewy glow it leaves and the lovely smell.
Speaking of dupes…
Have you tried the vinegar and sparkling water dupe for Coke/Sprite trend? I’m not looking for a dupe but I am always curious about the TikTok food trends (still haven’t tried the tomato feta pasta dish!) My favorite Trader Joes List influenced me to try the Agrodolce Vinegar with lemon sparkling water as a Sprite dupe. It is very tasty, I must say. Although the vinegar itself has a lot of added sugar and I’m not sure I love it enough to drink it regularly. Still kinda just like my limeade and bubbly water. Pair it with these olive and mixed nuts mix I found at Trader Joe’s and you have yourself a lovely afternoon treat.
I found some old pants in my closet this summer and fell back in love with them. I got them years ago at a boutique in Chicago but I think I found a good dupe. Mine are so comfortable and yet feel very cute. I wore them to our BBQ and to church and out to dinner with the girls. I get many compliments on them, which is always a reminder that I’m wearing the right thing for my body. I think Johnny would like the pants, too.
I’ve often wanted to own no show socks but the ones recommended seemed too expensive and the ones I was willing to pay for just didn’t work. I found some great ones this summer that ACTUALLY don’t slip and I’m loving them. I even love their cute tie dye pattern which is ironic, don’t you think?
Speaking of ironic…
I SAW ALANIS MORISETTE IN CONCERT!!!!!! All of the exclamation points. Many many thoughts. Tried to write them down, then wrote too much, so then tried to not write them, then still wrote too much. Anyway, I’ve always loved Alanis, but I’m realizing I love her even more now as a mother and a champion of mental health and as a creative. If you want to fall back in love with her outside of JLP, this was a great interview, particular for the creative minded, and I’m thinking of starting her podcast on mental health.
Speaking of mental health…
This summer we had the pleasure of becoming community owners of a new Women’s Pre-Professional League in Minnesota. It was exciting to be a part of a team from the ground up, even voting on name and branding. With season tickets we had the chance to watch our team Minnesota Aurora grow throughout their undefeated season (up until the championship game this last Saturday when they lost in double overtime). It made reading this article in Sports Illustrated about our star goalie, Sarah Fuller, and her struggle with mental health, all the more powerful of a read. I’m so grateful to hear her experience on the Aurora team this summer had such a positive impact on her mental health. Because she was darn fun to watch!
Speaking of powerful reads…
Heres’s what caught my attention this month.
“The closer we drove to my apartment, the closer I felt to my impending death. I lied. She would kill me, but I knew she would place a set of dignified prayer candles at my vigil along with several blooming marigolds. She’s thoughtful.”
And in books, I continued my Kate DiCamillo journey with The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, listening to it start to finish in the early hours of the morning as I drove across Iowa while my family slept and it just might be my most favorite book of hers so far. In other children’s fiction news, I read Everything Sad is Untrue, which took me a minute to get into, but by the end I wanted to turn it over and start it again. Also finished listening to The Golden Couple which was fine but more predictable than I wanted. And I finally got around to reading Where the Crawdads Sing, and it was as lovely as everyone said it would be and made me want to write, which is always a sign of a good book.
Speaking of writing…
Here are some words of mine from this month:
Finished up One Day May on the first day of July.
On Stranger Things and Procrastination and Bravery.
On Cardinals and Tucked Away Hope
On Live Photos and Ordinary Inspiration and the Reel to go along with it.
Writing in the summer is a whole thing.
This letter of mine took a bit longer to get to you this month than I had wanted for many reasons—summer, children, energy. I’m headed into a month of rest in August, taking a sabbath from the parts of the internet that pull me away from creativity. I’m hoping to write on my blog, but mostly I’m hoping to harvest a whole bunch of tomatoes from my garden and even greater bushels of rest. Maybe I’ll even be dancing by the end of it!
Whatever comes of the break, whether many words, I’m thinking about this quote from Everything Sad is Untrue.
The stories aren’t the thing. The thing is the story of the story. The spending of the time. The falling in love.
Thank you for spending some time in my stories today. That’s really the thing for me.