About gretchenwing

A high school English and History teacher for 20 years, Gretchen now lives, writes, and bakes on Lopez Island, Washington.

Aventuras Mexicanas con El Esposo y Hijo Dos: Días 1-3, San Luis Potosí y Tamasopo

Posted on March 18, 2025 by gretchenwing

Sometime this winter The Mate allowed that he wouldn’t mind a little break from splitting firewood and running our wood stove. So, with our family obligations cleared, our thoughts turned to Mexico, where lately it seems a good half of our (retired) acquaintance has been sojourning in the cold months.

When it came to Mexico, we quickly found out our knowledge fell into two categories .
1. Things we don’t know about Mexico: almost everything
2. Things we do know about Mexico: any place where we are likely to meet lots of fellow Americans is a place we don’t want to visit right now.

With that in mind, I bought a Lonely Planet book and started checking out regions. That’s when La Huasteca Potosina and the Sierra Gorda caught my eye and held it. I started doing some reading, and stumbled onto the most helpful travel blog I’ve encountered, written by an intrepid pair of Australians. Sallysees.com helped me create my own itinerary, and I strongly recommend their blog for many areas of Mexico and some other places they’ve traveled.

Following Sally’s advice, I planned to rent a car in the city of San Luis Potosi and drive a big circle. My Spanish has been improving, and I was looking forward to testing it.

Or I thought I was. But when Hijo Dos (Son Two), who’s fully fluent, offered to accompany us, I think I was relieved as my Mate in saying ¡Sí, por favor! So we all flew together from Seattle.

Our plane got in late so we spent the night in a hotel near the airport, but next day we drove about three hours through increasingly impressive desert…

…to La Huasteca, a region named for the Huastec people, a place of lush, jungly green oases with magical blue rivers and waterfalls. Our first stay was the small town of Tamasopo.

Apparently these cute town name signs are a big thing now, and not just in Mexico. Instagram Effect?

The Rio Tamasopo ran right past our first accomodations–such a relief after hours of desert driving!

The cypress trees there are as impressive as the water; in fact, they shape the water’s flow with their roots.

Another huge plus of our cabaña was its proximity to what could well be the top attraction of the whole area (except that it has so many competitors): el Puente de Diós (Bridge of God).

It’s less a bridge than it is a roaring waterfall which comes to rest in a magical, dark blue cenote—ringed by drapery of ferns and more tiny waterfalls—from which the river somehow disappears through the cliff and comes out the other side.

Those fan-shaped “rocks” are actually stalactites formed by the mineral-laden water over millennia.

Tourists can float through this underwater cavern with lifejackets on…

…watched over by a lifeguard in the world’s coolest natural lifeguard tower! (Note rope to help floaters exit)

My family never opted for the boisterous-seeming life-jacket-cave-float option, preferring to hang out in the sunny water just downstream…

…and (Hijo Dos y yo) to sneak back in next morning before the guides and tourists arrived.

Being there alone with only the roar of the falls, steaming in the chill air, was magical.

He swam; I took pictures. (In my defense, it was a pretty chilly morning!

Another nearby attraction, just a couple of miles by car, were the Cascadas de Tamasopo. Having been warned by Sally’s blog that these falls had been curated into a kind of waterpark, we saved them for the day we left Tamasopo.

Note the jumping platform on the left. Salvavidas (life jackets) required for that.

Because we got there early we were still able to fully enjoy the natural beauty of the water without being too distracted by The surrounding eateries and lounge chairs.

Not exactly wilderness, but very well protected

Three days into our trip, we had yet to meet a single non-Mexican tourist. ¡¡¡Sí!!!

Next stop: the Selva Teenek Wildlife Rehabilitation Ecopark. Let’s see some critters!

Bird Quilts: A Dose of Inspiration (Please and Thank You)

Posted on February 19, 2025 by gretchenwing

First, let me take a moment to welcome my Wing’s World readers who have done me the honor of subscribing, now that I have left the Facebook community. As I posted on FB before deleting, no judgement for those who stay! I have mixed feelings about leaving, and goodness knows, I’m fully invested in Google products, Amazon services, and all kinds of other playgrounds of unsavory billionaires. Aren’t we all just doing our best?

So what was that about bird quilts? Do you mean cute little sparrow-sized comforters? Something to tuck around your favorite hen? Or do you mean…

Ah. THAT’s what you mean. (Quilt by Phyllis Cullen)

A little context: if you read my last post about the jaw-dropping Red Dress Exhibit, you noted that I finished up with a mention of the bird quilt exhibit also running at the amazing Pacific Northwest Quilt and Fiber Arts Museum in La Conner, WA. Here is the post I promised on that topic–a little lighter than the Red Dress, but just as inspiring, in its own way.

This cormorant by Caryl Fallert-Gentry stopped me in my tracks–how is this not a photo??

Because I was at the museum chiefly to see the Red Dress, and because I had a ferry to catch, I had to flit from bird to bird, snapping photos to study later. But thanks to the wonderful technology of “zoom-in,” we really CAN do just that, appreciating the detail, the genius of the work almost as well as in person.

Go ahead: zoom in!

Who, who, who made this quilt? Unfortunately I was so excited to take its picture, I missed the creator’s name. Sorry, O Talented One!

I have dabbled in artistic quilting myself; I have even blogged about it, ages ago. And let me tell you–these bird quilts in La Conner are so far above my skill level as to be more awe-inspiring than just plain inspiring.

But I am inspired. Not so much to get back to the ol’ sewing machine (got too much else going on right now), but inspired by plain old beauty. Imagination. Discipline. Bird love. All the things you see when you zoom into…

…this folk-art piece by Garnet Templin-Inei, for example.

Or this whimsical, 3D depiction of a swooping eagle, using natural, gathered materials:

Lookout, ducks–DUCK! Perimeter includes mammalian jawbone and some kind of antler. (once again, my apologies for missing the artist’s name)

These are bleak days. You don’t need me to tell you that. But you might need me to show you a gorgeous, cheerful quilt-full of finches. Because ESPECIALLY these days, we all need every last ounce of inspiration, beauty and joy we can absorb.

Once again–apologies to the unnamed artist! I really did get too excited taking photos. Sorry.

I’ll be traveling for the next 3 weeks, WITHOUT my computer. So please, pile on the comments so I can read them before I go, and when I get back, Wing’s World will go back into travel-blog mode.

Till then, be well, zoom in, be inspired! And thank you for visiting Wing’s World.

For Hope, Solidarity and a Little Awe: Go See The Red Dress (Here’s How)

Posted on February 2, 2025 by gretchenwing

A small article in our regional online journal, Salish Current, caught my eye, its headline much like the title of this post you’re reading.

The Red Dress? A worldwide exhibit making its US west-coast debut at the Pacific Northwest Quilt and Fiber Arts Museum in the tiny town of La Conner, Washington? Just 30 minutes from our mainland ferry terminal? Here, in my backyard?

I read the article (by Ava Ronning, reprinted from The Skagit Valley Herald). And I had to go see it for myself.

Overwhelming. And that’s only at first glance.

The museum itself is housed in a breathtaking old dwelling on a hill overlooking the Swinomish Channel. I was so excited about the exhibit I forgot to photograph the museum, so here’s a shot I stole from their website:

The dress occupies one small room…and I mean occupies. It fills the space, drawing you in to examine every fold, every flounce.

The border is the only part embroidered by machine, commissioned by the dress’s creator

And that’s before you watch the video in the next room, which unpacks the dress’s stories (in part–there are too many for a 12-minute video). That’s where I learned that the white doves on this panel, sewn by survivors of the Kosovo war, represent their longing for peace.

Notice the contrast with the colorful images from (I think) Rwanda. Two communities of survivors, side by side on the dress: white and color; same medium, same message.

The Red Dress Project began with UK artist Kirstie MacLeod, as the website says, “as a sketch on the back of a napkin in 2009.” Since then, it “has grown into a global collaborative project involving and connecting with thousands of people all over the world.”

Through the video, I learned the story of this small piece from an artisan in Colombia. She started with traditional symbols–hibiscus, toucán–but after being shaken by a bombing in Bogotá, she added this word in English:

She could have written “esperanza,” but she preferred to make her message more universal.

The same word appears in a section from…somewhere else in the world:

The video didn’t say where. But how many places it could be from!

The website tells you right off how many women have been involved in its creation: 380. From 51 countries. If you dig around on the site, you will also learn that the dress weighs 6.8 kilos–that’s just under 15 pounds. (I actually thought it might be heavier–there are beads stitched on there!)

The website goes on to explain,

Initially the project sought to generate a dialogue of identity through embroidery, uniting people around the world across borders and boundaries. However, over the 14 years it was created, The Red Dress also become a platform for self-expression and an opportunity for, often marginalised, voices to be amplified and heard, initiating vital dialogues on important and frequently uncomfortable issues.

A panel from Chiapas, Mexico. This section of the video was one of the most moving.

The website estimates the number of stitches in the dress from one to 1.5 billion. It reports: “Some of the artisans are rebuilding their lives with the help of embroidery, using their skills or being trained in embroidery to earn a consistent living to support themselves and their communities.”

In other words, these women are paid for their work. From the video, I learned that 50 Bedouin women had been able to achieve financial independence from the embroidery work the Red Dress Project engendered.

This one’s from Japan, not Egypt. I didn’t learn its story.

The most heartening part of the video is where creator Macleod explains, “The importance has shifted from the dress as an art piece to the creators of the dress.” One country at a time, she is traveling with the dress to allow each embroiderer to see (and in some cases wear!) the entire dress, in most cases for the first time. Seeing that wonder on the face of the 19 year-old artisan in Mexico choked me up.

Macleod herself stitched the web on the back of the bodice, representing connection.

Speaking of choking up: this image from Ukraine: their national colors expressed in a flower:

Only after leaving the exhibit did it occur to me to consider the word “redress”: it means, “to remedy or set right (an undesirable or unfair situation).” As Kirstie Macleod says, in the video, “The voices of the women are just crying out to be heard.”

And in an era of increasing division, borders, walls, aggression and suspicion, this dress is a community object “without prejudice, without boundaries, without borders…”

So many stories to absorb. So much solidarity to learn from.

So, you want to see the dress yourself? Here’s how.

According to the website, after its La Conner visit (La Conner! Not Los Angeles! That still blows me away), the dress will travel back to the UK, and thence to Asia and Australia.

modest little La Conner, and the Swinomish Reservation on the opposite side of the channel

So unless you can go to those places, here’s what I recommend. Go to the website. Watch the video (under “Media”). Then use their really cool Digital Red Dress tool for a DIY tour: https://reddressembroidery.com/DIGITAL-RED-DRESS

You will also find wonderful worldwide examples of projects similar to, often inspired by, the Red Dress Project.

Every time I look at it, I want to learn more.

If you’re really bold and/or inspired, Ms. Macleod invites you to reach out to her directly: “Kirstie is able to offer events and presentations with/without the Red Dress tailored to your group/community. Please email her for more info on: reddressembroidery@gmail.com”

That wonderful museum in La Conner is also showing a breathtaking exhibit of bird quilts. I was going to append some of those photos to this post, but you know what? The Dress and the birds deserve their own space. So I’ll save the birds for later.

Go see The Red Dress, in whatever medium you can. And then tell me your favorite part about the experience, eh? It’s all about that web.

Purring vs. Mousing: On Comfort & Duty

Posted on January 12, 2025 by gretchenwing

My Quaker Meeting meets in the best space ever: a goat dairy.

…where, in the spring, after Meeting, you sometimes get to do this

A dairy is a farm, so of course Sunnyfield has barn cats. One of them, Basil, decided to join us this morning in our nice, warm yurt, for an hour of silence. (Or, for Basil: cuddles.)

Let me repeat: Basil is a barn cat. He’s supposed to be out in the barn catching mice, not sitting on nice, warm, indoor Quaker laps.

And Basil knows this. Oh, he knows! Just look how firmly he’s anchored to this lap–even with his tail!

Since when do cats have prehensile tails? (photo by Kirm Taylor)

For the first 10 minutes, as Basil’s contended purring dominated our silence, I found myself meditating on the power of comfort, the lure of bliss.

What, I asked myself, are my own versions of purring? Me slipping into a hot tub. Me lying down on the couch with a fat novel in an empty house. Me fitting an entire chunk of sushi into my mouth. Me on a mountain, contemplating more mountains.

But 10 minutes in, one of our group, who happens to also co-own that goat dairy, came in and spotted Basil. Quick as a wink, she deported him back to mousing duty, outdoors.

So I spent a good portion of the rest of that quiet hour thinking about it means to choose comfort over cold, hard service. I know myself well enough to know that I need BOTH. Around this time, I probably lean a bit more toward the purring-on-laps parts of my life.

But I also welcome the fresh air of personal, artistic, and political challenge when it comes. I’m not ASKING to be sent out to the barn, understand. But when someone sends me, I’ll get back out there with my tail high.

(Cape) Flattery Will Get You: A Loop Around Our Olympic-(Peninsula)-Sized Backyard

Posted on December 17, 2024 by gretchenwing

As Staycations go, this one would’ve had a hard time failing.

A few months ago we paid for two nights at a rental house at Lake Quinault, only to have our travel companions cancel due to illness.

The renter allowed us to change our dates, so we invited intrepid friends: Ben & Lynn from Asheville, whom we’ve known for decades. They said YES!

Walking in W. Seattle’s Lincoln Park while we waited for their flight, we discovered this altar to LOVE. Seemed a good omen–Brussels sprouts & all.

Since our friends were coming clear across the country, the least we could do was take them all the way around the Olympic Peninsula—a.k.a. part of our Big Backyard, across the Strait from our island.

Ben & Lynn–helping give some scale to the Lincoln Park madrona trees

Starting with the rainforests, at Quinault and the Hoh River, we all re-introduced ourselves to some big friends.

Ben & Gretchen agree, things are looking up.

In those wondrous, drippy forests, the enormous conifers–fir, spruce, cedar & hemlock–get most of the attention…

…whether alive or helping younger trees to be alive…

…but shoutout to the hardwoods, okay? The mosses seem to love the maples best.

One of the nice thing about traveling with another couple is…

…couple photos! We tried not to take TOO much advantage.

Moving up the Olympic coastline from Quinault, one has an embarrassing pick of beaches. Beach Three’s our favorite, for its tidepools, but the tide was too high this time of year. So we got to focus on other wonders–like this natural water feature.

Isn’t that the coolest little pool? We needed a 4 year-old to play in it.

Rialto Beach might be the most in-your-face breathtaking, if ya like that kinda thing

I have another photo of Lynn doing pretty much the same thing!

It was hard to leave the serenity of Lake Quinault. The northern shore of the lake was 95% deserted–all those empty vacation homes, what’s up, people?

But after our two nights, it was on to the furthest northwestern point on the Lower 48: the Makah Reservation at Neah Bay.

Along the way we stopped in Forks for groceries [not pictured: amazing apple fritters] and a hike to Third Beach (not to be confused with Beach 3).

Third Beach is the jumping-off point for a magnificent hike, out toward a garden of seastacks, up & down some rope ladders.

We just stayed put and admired ’em from afar.

Somehow, we did just fine.

Never any shortage of seats on these driftlog-piled beaches!

Up at Neah Bay, more choices: Cape Flattery, the very tippy-tip of the Rez, involving a 1.5 mile round trip walk, or Shi Shi Beach…which would’ve required a 2-mile slog through mud just to get to the start of the pretty stuff.

Cape Flattery is difficult to describe without gothic-novel purple prose: surf crashing upon crags, mist and spray and boiling, roiling, heaving, breathing seas…

…or you could just look at the pictures.

After we’d been there an hour, taking every conceivable photo, the sun came out. So what else could we do but start over?

The best photos from Cape Flattery are videos, which capture all that roiling/boiling/heaving stuff I mentioned. But those are harder to embed into this blog, so I’ll just leave you with this one Lynn took:

Is it just me, or do you also see a whale in that rock? Right?

After our dalliance with the Cape and a lengthy visit to the Makah Museum (which was hosting a holiday craft fair), our crew was ready for a rest. But with the sun making such an unexpected appearance, I simply couldn’t resist one more beach visit, this one a simple drive & stroll on my own, to Tsoo-Yess Beach.

See what I mean about that sun? Tsoo-YESSSSS!

I couldn’t stop taking photos of the least little beachy items, which the sun rendered…let’s go ahead & use the term “glorious.”

gargantuan log, turned into yet another water feature/sandbox (oh, where is that 4 year-old?)

Sand arrows? Maybe kind of appropriate, on the Rez

Once more, it was hard leaving Neah Bay, especially with the sun out, and the thought of un-visited Shi Shi Beach. So we’ll have to come back one day…with better mudboots.

Meanwhile, it was on to a midday walk at Dungeness Spit, in Sequim (pronounced “Squim”):

It’s FIVE MILES long! No mud to slog through, but also not the most changeable scenery, eh? So we mostly stayed put.

Our final overnight stop was the ridiculously pretty town of Pt. Townsend.

The upper half of town, where the “proper” folks lived (as opposed to the rough & tumble crowd on the waterfront) is famous for its Victorians.

This was NOT our inn…at least not on this trip. I did stay here once with my HS Besties, years ago.

Oh, and did I mention the deer? I counted fifteen on a ten-minute walk through the leafy part of town.

Our weather stayed amazingly clear, gifting us both a Mt. Rainier-silhoutted sunrise…

…and a Mt. Baker mid-morning, looking north from Ft. Worden State Park.

And if you moved the camera a little to the left, you’d be looking at Lopez Island!

Back in Seattle, we had one last hurrah of a meal w/ our adventure buddies, then left them at their airport hotel while we spent the night with Son Two. Our great fortune: he was dogsitting!

Back home next day, after a week away, The Mate & I marveled at the deeply exotic beauty so close to our home. Then we looked around our little village and saw these community-crafted, recycled-bottle luminaries everywhere…and thought,

I’ll say it again: (Cape) Flattery will get you. So will Tsoo-Yess, and Beach 3, and Third Beach. That whole peninsula is magical –and we didn’t even visit Lake Crescent, or the Elwha River, or the Sol Duc hot springs. We didn’t even drive up to see snowy Hurricane Ridge (road closed).

There’s just SO MUCH.

So if you go? Bring your camera. But try & bring a 4 year-old too.

Giving Thanks For…Say What, Now?

Posted on November 22, 2024 by gretchenwing

Confession #1: I think I’ve been harboring a witch in my house, for the past month.

Confession #2: I’ve loved every minute.

Confession #3: that “witch” is…a bouquet of flowers.

Specifically, this bouquet. Gifted to me by Son Two when he picked me up from the airport a day after my birthday. I took this photo a day after that: October 27.

Pretty, right? There’s even a rose, which I manage not to show in this snapshot. But nothing out of the ordinary. Just lovely flowers from a lovely young man who happens to be my son.

A week later, the bouquet was still going strong, except for that one rose, which I removed. I send Son Two this photo to share my pleasant surprise at his gift’s longevity.

Nov. 3. Who misses a rose? Still vibrant!

Two weeks later, when the bouquet continued to stay glossy and bright, I started having my suspicions.

Nov. 9. Ok, that one yellow flower’s getting a little mussed, but it’s been TWO WEEKS!

Week three began. We’re talking the first weekend after the election; hell, half the country needed flowers! But I had these, still giving their weirdly ageless joy.

Except for adding a little sugar to their water when I first got them, and changing the water once a week, I did NOTHING to these flowers. It’s all them.

We didn’t even need those extra dahlias. Doing just fine.

Granted, I freshened them up with a couple of dahlias rescued from a different bouquet, gifted by my Ironwoman Goddaughter Allison, but really…they were just bonus. Son Two’s bouquet was holding its own after THREE WEEKS.

That’s when I decided it must be a witch. But SUCH a good witch.

Finally, FINALLY, I made the decision today to liberate my lovely witchy companion to the compost heap. But not before taking its picture one last time.

I seriously think I might have repurposed that bouquet one last time, in a smaller vase. But we’re coming up on Thanksgiving; counter space will soon be at a premium…and let’s face it: ONE MONTH is more than twice the joy I’d expect to receive from any bunch of flowers not planted in dirt. Why be greedy?

Unless somebody wants to bring me a new bunch. As witchy as possible, please.

In Search of Solace? I Have the Book for You

Posted on November 15, 2024 by gretchenwing

Surprise! It’s poetry.

It’s a chapbook, sometimes called “a slim volume.” (Which, now that I think about it, isn’t a bad description of my friend Kathleen herself, the author of A Cage in Search of a Bird.)

And if you’re like me–needing more than EVER to buffer the beginnings of each day with not-TV-news imagery, universal truths, or just plain fun wordplay–this little chapbook is just the thing.

Since Kathleen is a Lopez Islander like me (and a member of my writing group) it seems most fitting to describe her latest collection in the words of another fellow Lopezian (and onetime member of said writing group), H.M. Sanders:

Sometimes tongue-in-cheek but always insightful and brimming with poetic vignettes provided by nature’s gifts, Kathleen Holliday‘s new collection is thought provoking, wise, and rich with island imagery. Like a beachcomber of her own life, she picks up the most unassuming objects and uses the lighthouse beam of her poet’s eye to show us the beauty and sadness embedded there. These poems are quieter than her previous works; a little richer with imagery and a little darker, with beautifully wrought images derived from everyday occurrences that she elevates to higher observations of our world and our understanding of it. In this age of social media, AI, and the frantic noise of news and the horrors of our world, the profound gift of Holliday’s poems ring quiet and true – this collection of poems is a calm anchor that links us back to our spiritual roots.

–H.M. Sanders, author of The Widowed Warlock, and Ringmaker fantasy series.

Please visit Kathleen’s website to learn more about her poetry and to order a copy (or two–Christmas presents?) of her latest chapbook, OR her previous two: Boatman, Pass By, and Putting My Ash on the Line.

**Remember what I said about the fun wordplay?**

To summarize: Feeling disheartened? Start each day with a poem. Pass it on.

Gone to Carolina, Part III: Glorying in the Non-Political

Posted on November 4, 2024 by gretchenwing

I’m writing this on Election Eve in America.

No, scratch that. I’m writing this BECAUSE it’s Election Eve in America. And even though I went back to my home state of NC a couple of weeks ago largely for political reasons, I’m feeling the need tonight to celebrate a bunch of non-political stuff from my time there.

Herewith, in no particular order: WONDERFUL THINGS IN NORTH CAROLINA.

Red leaves in October. We do have fall color, here in Washington State: gold, yellow, and, uh, yellow-gold. Not red.

Dogwoods! OK, you get the idea. I miss red.

2. Rolled ice cream. What the heck is rolled ice cream? is what I asked when one of my fellow canvassers in Greenville started raving about it. So I had to find out.

First, they pour your choice of flavored syrup + mix-ins onto a super-cooled surface.

…flatten and spread to the width of that circle, and then–voila!–use that spatula to scrape curls…

of ice cream into rolls of yum, with toppings! Didn’t get the proprietors’ names, but I was so impressed with their delicious innovation. Look them up in Greenville, NC!

3. NC-style BBQ. This place in Greenville is such an institution, the road is named after it.

Turns out eastern NC “cue” is about as good as the Triangle’s…

…but those weird-shaped hushpuppies got NOTHING on Allen & Son’s in Pittsboro.

4. My high school buddy Mimi Herman, whose recent novel, The Kudzu Queen, is winning prizes and taking names…including the name of one of my MOST ADMIRED authors, Luis Alberto Urrea, seen here promoting Mimi’s book!

See what I did there? Promoted two of my favorite people at the same time! Buy their books, y’all.

5. My folks, and the ability to keep coming home to them.

Stressed out? Make your own WONDERFUL THINGS list. It sure works for me.

Gone to Carolina, Part II: My Home State Canvasses ME

Posted on October 26, 2024 by gretchenwing

I came to Pitt County, in eastern North Carolina, to ask questions of folks who hadn’t yet voted.

Specifically: Greenville, where the Tar River meanders, in no hurry to be anywhere

“What are the top issues on your mind and heart, heading into this election? Tell me more about that.”

“Do you agree that the economy works better when everyone has access to opportunity?”

“Have you heard of Josh Stein? He’s running for governor.”

In four days of canvassing, I had probably 75 doorstep conversations: most short; some dispiriting, more uplifting. But in the process, I came to feel that my home state was actually canvassing me…ringing my doorbell, asking me these questions.

“What does it mean to be from a place?”

“How much of a Southerner are you, really?”

A: enough of a Southerner to recognize cotton; not enough of one to realize how much grows in my home state!

I combined this canvassing trip to NC with visiting my parents and my three high school besties, in Durham—the wealthier, more educated center of the state. But once I said goodbye to my dear ones, I was 100% in the zone with my blue-state teammates from Common Power (if you want to get involved w/ them yourself, now’s the time! Click here) in flat, cotton-fielded Greenville—a place as new to me as it was to my non-Southern team.

Seriously: was all that cotton here all this time? How come I never noticed it while driving to the beach in the 1970s? Answer: I probably didn’t recognize it w/o the white fluffy stuff.

Common Power’s model is to team with local organizations and become their worker bees. Our org was Advance Carolina,

…and our liaison was Ms. Danisha.

…or you can just call her Ms. Powerhouse

We rotated carloads of door-knocking teams each day. Here’s mine from my second day, taking our lunch break:

The guy who offered to take our picture cheerfully told us he didn’t think a woman was able to lead the country. Sigh.

Even though we were talking mostly to registered Democrats, we ran into some bummers. Bummer #1: Donald Trump came to town, to rally at Eastern Carolina U.

His merch tables were all over town.

Bummer #2: young Black men who told us, A) I don’t believe voting matters; B) God’s in charge anyhow, so whatever happens will be His will; C) some combination of A & B (which I personally took to mean, C): I don’t wanna vote for a woman, I just don’t want to say so).

Some neighborhoods were less well-to-do…

But after a day or so, I got good at turning those interactions into real conversations–by pushing back a little, with humor; by asking more questions; by remembering the mantra “Every conversation an invitation.” And every one of those men hung out and talked with me, so open, so friendly…like we were visitin’ on their front steps.

Because of those conversations, I’m 100% sure I “moved the needle” a little with at least one male voter per day. Multiply that by the # of volunteers out there, and there’s our “margin of effort”: the thing that will make the difference in this election.

…while other neighborhoods were much wealthier. I enjoyed the contrast between these houses with those ol’ cotton fields right behind them. Black families live in these homes.

When Team NC packed up and left, I volunteered to stay an extra day and a half to make up for joining late (because of my family/friends visit). And that’s when the tables turned a little.

Advance Carolina sent me even further east, to Bertie County, a place I knew only because I’ve ordered raw peanuts from this place:

…without ever knowing it’s pronounced “BerTEE County”

There, in the tiny town of Windsor, I was supposed to be a poll watcher, not a canvasser. Only problem: there was nothing to watch.

In fact, I had a good long wait before we even went to the polling place…so I took myself for a walk along their cool swamp boardwalk.

More learning: this is a Tupelo tree! I never knew that’s where the word came from (remember: Elvis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi).

Then, when we finally got to the polls, it was just a bunch of folks sittin’ and visitin’. No scary MAGA pickup trucks circling the block. Locals of both races were greeted, most by name, as they arrived, and thanked for voting as they left.

[not pictured: the polling place; I didn’t care to violate folks’ privacy. But imagine the shade of a nice, big magnolia tree.]

a sentiment most eastern Carolinians would probably agree with, MAGA or not

Me? I was as useful as a fly on the wall. At first I was frustrated. I drove all this way to get WORK done! I could be out there pounding the pavement, chalking up more doors! What a waste of time! Etc.

But as I drove back to Greenville, I considered: those folks were modeling exactly what I had found to be the most effective political work. They were visitin’. Telling stories. Asking how so-and-so was doing. Teasing, laughing. Doing community.

What’s your all-fired hurry? the Bertie County folks seemed to be asking (not that they were paying me any attention). What’s with all the checklists & efficiency? Can’t you see this is how we’ve survived all these decades, here of all places?

Photo from the NC/VA border, ca. 1970 (courtesy musicmaker.org)

Ten years ago, after driving across the country to NC, I wrote a song about my complicated relationship with the South. Most of the lyrics are on the dark side:

Gone to Carolina in my mind, but my heart’s gone mute

One look at a poplar tree and I’m thinking of strange fruit.

This red clay was my stompin’ ground—hardly a boast

When every cotton field is haunted by sharecropper ghosts.

Chorus:

Yeah, it’s another song about the South, y’all,

Just trying to sort my feelings out once and for all.

How can someone feel so in and out of place?

That sweet sunny south where I first saw the light,

If she’s my ol’ mama, I’m a teenager in flight.

Do I want to hug her neck…or slap her face?

big cypress dressed in flounces of poison ivy

But now, as I head home to my blue state, filled with new thoughts about my old red—no, purple!—one, this verse feels more appropriate:

The woods are thick with poison ivy and trumpet vine

More tangled up and twisted than this loyalty of mine

For a countryside that’s suffered more hardship per square mile

Than any place I know—sucked up with sweet tea and a smile.

I still doubt Kamala Harris will win North Carolina, even after all the efforts made here. But I do think she will be elected. And if that happens, I’m going to summon all my powers of visitin’ to help get us through the next steps.

This sign’s in Durham, not Pitt County, not Bertie. But we’re getting there!

Donkeys’ Years: Measuring a Life in Farm Animals

Posted on October 16, 2024 by gretchenwing

Stevie passed away last week, at the age of 37, in his rural North Carolina home. You may remember Stevie from various posts over the years:

I missed the chance to say goodbye, arriving at my folks’ farm a week too late. Son Two, who happened to be visiting his grandparents then, did get that chance.

Son 2 (and Son 1) go way back w/ Stevie; this is 11 years ago.

For the first time in decades, there were no furry ears to cuddle–usually my first stop after dropping my bags upstairs.

When my folks bought this land way back in 1959, my German father named their little farm Tierreich, which translates to Kingdom (or Realm) of the Animals. They proceeded to fill the place up with critters, and it’s remained that way for 65 years.

Horses. Goats. Barn cats. Chickens, geese, ducks, guinea fowl. A couple of bottle-fed deer (from the research herd at Duke). Somebody’s sheep who got left here. One tempermental llama, whom only my dad liked.

Not pictured: Salvador Dalai Llama. But here’s Hank the goat

Once or twice we raised an animal to eat–Chuck the steer, Sir Toby the pig–but my father hated killing and butchering so much that we abandoned that path.

LOTS OF CRITTERS. And that was just the barnyard. In the house you’d find: more cats. Canaries, budgies, finches. Guinea pigs, rabbits, gerbils, hamsters, tropical fish, a flying squirrel, and a hedgehog. And roaming between house & yard…two to four Norwegian Elkhounds.

…like Erda, in her youth. Joined by an occasional Standard Poodle.

They ran the place. If you look at the photo wall in my folks’ family room, you’ll see that most pictures include animals. They still run the place.

But there are fewer of them every time I come home. Gone are Stevie’s various goat buddies…

…and soon, all too soon, Erda the Ancient Elkhound will be making her own departure.

Among the larger animals on the farm, that will leave two smaller, younger elkhounds, and two elderly horses: Trefino, nearly 28…

Seen here with my Amazing Mom, waiting for a new set of shoes (probably his last)

…and the little Arab, Raj, who Mom thinks is even older than Stevie–maybe 38!

I’m not at all sure that either of these gentle old equines will be here by my next visit, next spring–an arresting thought.

On my walk in the autumnal woods today, I was musing about how that will feel, when I saw this double ruin: old broken springhouse on the left, old broken oak on the right:

Man-made or Nature-made, everything falls to ruin eventually. Where do beloved pets and farm animals fit in this spectrum? Of nature, yet shaped by humans, all–our dear Stevie, old Erda, old Fino and oldest Raj–are part oak, part springhouse.

And may they all rest in peace for the peace (and joy, and comfort, and rides, and laughs, and hair) they have given.