What Do Thistles, Advanced Degrees and Kale Have in Common?

Posted on September 1, 2024 by gretchenwing

This is going to be one of those participatory posts. Ready? Show of hands: who’s familiar with the term Opportunity Cost?

That’s a term I had to learn about 35 years ago, when I took my first public school teaching job, in North Carolina. I was ~~sentenced to~~ given five sections of the same class: 9th Grade ELP, or Economic, Legal and Political Systems. Thanks to my undergrad classwork, I was pretty up on the Legal & Political part, but Economics? I studied hard to keep a step ahead of those kids.

And I learned about opportunity cost, a.k.a. “the loss of potential gain from other alternatives when one alternative is chosen.” (Thanks, Oxford Dictionary Online.)

In other words: you do one thing; what you don’t do = opportunity cost.

Get up to see the sunrise? Your o.c. is sleep. Sleep in? Your o.c. is…wait for it…sunrise! But also a TON of other early-morning things.

Obviously, for every action, there are a LOT MORE o.c.’s. So you don’t want to let them get the upper hand, right?

The trick is to recognize the opportunity costs, give ’em a friendly nod…and keep doing what you’re doing. That way they can’t blindside you with their secret weapon, regret.

The other day while walking in my Big Backyard, part of the San Juan National Monument, I came upon this ~~particularly beastly~~ lovely flower arrangement:

Bull thistle, seed pods popping. Invasive as hell. I vaguely recalled writing a blog post about my personal war with these devils about a decade ago. Back then, I was actually optimistic about ridding this stretch of public lands from thistles by my own sheer persistence.

So what happened? Opportunity cost.

Choose to save your back & knees by withdrawing from the Thistle Wars? The opportunity cost is living with thistles.

The more I think about it, the more I see opportunity cost at work in my life. Move across the country for the beauty of the Pacific Northwest?

Fine–but your o.c. is a full (expensive) day’s travel away from your folks.

And Dad may still rack up the miles on his e-trike, but he’s not riding to Washington State.

For that matter: move onto an ISLAND? OK…but you better be ready to give up HOURS, waiting in ferry lines.

Because this really isn’t a commuting option.

I chose to devote time (and money) to pursuing an MFA in fiction, so I can write a better novel…

…but my songwriting Muse has taken these past two years to decide to visit some other songwriter. THAT was one o.c. I hadn’t considered.

[not pictured: my songwriting Muse. “Hmph. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”]

On that music theme: I only get to play with friends who are willing to be informal & flexible, rather than join an ongoing band…

…because I leave the island WAY too often, for places like this:

(to choose a recent, random example–the Chiricahua National Monument in AZ)

I’ve had to give up Spanish lessons because of (pick one): bakery work/neighborly commitments/ political phone-banking/spending down time with The Mate

OK, that last one: always worth it! No cost!

Choosing not to plant an organized garden gives me extra time, and saves my back…and my o.c. is a Kale Forest (vale of kale) masquerading as a garden.

Getting exercise means I’m always moving around this beautiful corner of the world at TOP SPEED…which means I’m not LINGERING.

That last one really caught my attention. So the other day, I took my journal, my lumbar support pillow, and a peach with me out to the Point, and we LINGERED.

What did I journal about? Opportunity cost. I duly noted a long list of things I haven’t been doing, making, accomplishing or experiencing lately, because of all the other things I’ve been doing, etc. I read the list. I thanked it. I whispered promises to a couple of the o.c.’s on there that I might be back at a later time, so don’t give up on me.

And on we go. No regrets. (Or at least none that I feel like sharing in a blog. 🙂 )

Just keep looking at the view…don’t give that o.c. any power!

So here comes the participatory part again. What are some of the opportunity costs you’re currently noticing in your life? How about acknowledging them here? Then wave ’em adieu.

Campering vs. Backpacking, Or, One of the World’s Most Strained Metaphors

Posted on August 26, 2024 by gretchenwing

Here’s the thing: I ended my last post with a promise to get back to work on my novel.

Here’s the other thing: I did just that. Which is why that last post was almost a month ago.

Which is why I find myself with a teensy dilemma: use my limited non-novel writing time to blog the easy way–basically just “Look at my travel pics, now with witty commentary!”–or do I use this medium to deal more thoughtfully with current events or Big Ideas?

Then this thought occurred to me: the back-to-back camping trips I most recently took might function as a metaphor for this dilemma of the comfortable, “look, pretty!” vs. the more weight-bearing “let’s think about something” blog post.

Trip One, with The Mate, involved Campering in Vanna Grey.

Vanna, meet Silver Springs Campground, at the base of Mt. Rainier!

Silver Springs Campground proved to be more than hyperbole, as we found this large and yes, silvery spring springing straight out of the mountainside above our campsite.

We also got an up-close view of where the White River got its name, as some overflow met the clear water of the springs.

On your right, ladies & gentlemen: the White River.

But…you see what I’m doing here? I’m narrating pretty travel pictures. How easy, how convenient! Just like Vanna Grey. Drive, park–congratulations, you’ve arrived. Nothing much to think about.

And this view? We just drove up here. Twice. Because we could.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying campering is shallow. Beauty abounds, even from a camper, and beauty is moving.

What I am saying…I think…is that campering, by dint of being so easy, does not tap into the kind of thoughts that spring from having one’s body fully committed. Yes, we went on some fabulous day hikes, which made me think about stuff like…

…why do I insist on making The Mate take my picture with flowers all the time?

…or even ponder the impact of global warming on the nose of a glacier…

Oh dear…pretty sure last time we were here, the ice reached all the way to that gravelly wall 😦

But putting your entire camp + food on your back and humping it up a pass, as I did with my Ironwoman Goddaughter Allison…

…who, lucky for me, takes even more pictures that I do!

…that kind of effort delves into a whole different level of thought. (Which does indeed feature a good deal of “what’s for dinner?”)

Why is this? I wonder. Is it that being away from vehicles leads to deeper, more stripped-down conversation?

Hayes Lake, near Kulshan (Mt. Baker). Allison pumping water in the background

Is it the braggadocious joy of thinking “I got myself to this beautiful place!”?

…where your Ironman T-shirt matches the wildflowers?

Is it the relative quiet of roadlessness that allows one to sink more deeply into the stark reality of melting glaciers?

…which still look so stinkin’ pretty as they melt

It’s not like you can’t see cute animals while campering.

Of course, it IS true that some wild animals are generally further out of reach than others. We were actually pretty shocked to meet this many mountain goats only a few miles away from the Mt. Baker ski area parking lot.

But generally speaking, while I spent nearly equal time campering as backpacking a couple weeks ago, the backpacking trip felt more CONSEQUENTIAL.

Meaningful. Harder but more rewarding.

Yes, this patch of paintbrush was easily accessible from the parking lot…

Now, August is coming to a close, and so, for me, is backpacking season. Because we now own Vanna Grey, The Mate and I will continue to “camper” as the weather turns harsher.

Hopefully with occasional vistas like this of Mt. Shuksan. Look carefully: you can actually see the road & parking lot in the background!

But as the political season enters its autumnal stretch, I feel the need to use this blog for more than showing off trip pictures. (Even though I LOVE showing off trip pictures.)

So much is happening in this country. So much to think about, talk about, work for. What joy to throw some of that in my blog-pack and see where we end up. See you down the trail!

About That Trip to Sacramento: Oh, So THAT’s What Everyone’s Complaining About

Posted on July 30, 2024 by gretchenwing

My 89 year-old mom’s record-setting performance on the track–mid-July in triple-digit heat–was the culmination of rare summer road trip for me & The Mate. Here’s the rest of the story.

What?! I’m not the one who has to run a 1500!

It was hot. That SO goes without saying…except for people like me & The Mate, who live on an island surrounded by a nice, chilly Salish Sea. On Lopez, our summer temps rarely make it into the 90s. So this drive was a bit of a shock to our systems.

First stop, seeing old friends in Eugene…where it was a mere 94.

I resisted the urge to plunge into the Willamette, but later I regretted that choice.

As we drove, The Mate & I made use of our Toyota’s A/C. Again: DUH. But again: We are NOT summer road-trippers. We haven’t used A/C regularly in DECADES. I can see how that stuff might catch on.

Next up: Redding, CA.

Our favorite bike path along the Sacramento River, which we rode @ 7:30 am, due to the 104-degrees we’d driven into town on.

Down in San Jose (more old friends), the mercury fell to a blessed 80 or so. Thanks, San Francisco Bay! We rode along Los Gatos Creek, where I was heartened by this sign at a homeless encampment:

Of course I wouldn’t violate the privacy of the inhabitant, but she didn’t mind me sharing her sign.

California never ceases to offer up visual encapsulations of itself. Like these citrus fruits left to be picked up by the San Jose Sanitation Department:

When life gives you lemons…have them driven to the landfill???!!

From San Jose, we made our way up to Marin County, where our Oakland cousins scored a dog-sitting gig for the summer. Well…we THOUGHT it was a score, till we learned that Marin is actually a good 10 degrees hotter than the northeast side of the Bay. Guess all that water really does the trick.

Pretty, yes…but pretty HOT, being so far from that nice big body of water!

Walking was better in the evening, we found.

…especially with a full moon rising next to Mt. Tam

Next up, of course: Sacramento, and Mom’s meet, which you’ve probably already read about. Thank GOODNESS her final event ran @ 7:30 in the morning…after which we hugged, took pictures, made sure her plans were secure, and hit the road before the sun could get too high.

Quick, back to Redding!

the famous Sundial Bridge, where the bike path takes off from

Get the bikes out, there might still be some shade!

Amazing how much difference shade makes when it’s 100 out.

This time I played it smarter, hopping off my bike to stand in the nice cold Sacramento before riding on.

In the week between our southbound & northbound rides on this path, though, wildfires had ballooned. Compare the sky in this picture with the one near the start of this blog post:

Worn out from a hot day of driving (but energized by a certain lightning bolt of political news, July 21), we spent the night in Roseburg.

*not pictured: Roseburg & their darn good pizza

Our final day took us back into Washington, where the sky clouded up, the temperature sank back to a nice, “normal” high 60s…and we celebrated by going for a long walk down the incredible boardwalk of the Nisqually Delta.

Well yes, that’s the Delta (reclaimed for Nature, from previous dikes)…but what’s that about a boardwalk?

We spent that night catching up with Son Two, enjoying wearing shirts with sleeves again, and snacking on quintessential Pacific Northwest snackage in his Seattle-area neighborhood:

Now, in case you’re wondering, “Gretchen, didn’t you just blog about earning your MFA in Creative Writing and working on your novel? so what the heck are you doing road-tripping? Shouldn’t you be getting BACK TO WORK?”…Mother Nature had the same idea.

Waiting for the ferry to take us back to Lopez, I took a walk along the shore, where I was greeted by these stunning goldenrods. Since “Goldenrods” is the name given to my graduating cohort at Antioch (they’re doing flower names now–Hydrangea, Iris, Lilac, etc.), I took these flowers as a sign.

This blog post is a down payment. Back to the novel tomorrow! But good luck out there, all y’all non-islanders out there dealing with “normal” summer heat. Stay safe, stay cool. (Go wading!) And thanks for riding with me.

Vancation Adventures, Part I: Taking Vanna Grey Where They Spell Her Name Correctly

Posted on June 7, 2024 by gretchenwing

Canada, that is—where the colour grey is spelt the English way. Especially in British Columbia.

Vanna and I both felt most at home–and so did Liza, my bike, who got to enjoy this view.

In the week following Memorial Day, The Mate and I had a nice free chunk of days between various commitments and appointments. Perfect timing to introduce Vanna to our favorite portion of North America…starting with a quick visit to the auto glass shop to fix her poor rear window.

I love when The Mate mows the lawn…but this time the mower threw out a chunk of gravel. Owie.

Heading for the eastern portion of the province, we crossed Washington’s Cascades and spent our first night in Twisp, right next to the Methow River.

Thanks to the window glass, it was late afternoon when we arrived, but also so windy we were just as happy to skip the bike ride we’d normally look forward to there.

Next morning, the Methow got its turn in the sun’s spotlight.

Crossing the border into Osoyoos, the gazillion not-yet-open fruit stands made us regret being there so early in the season. On the other hand, given the fires of recent summers, we felt just as happy to experience lush greenery and cooler temps around Penticton, a region we’d had to skip last fall due to…see the opening words of this sentence.

Our campsite above Lake Skaha used to be an apricot orchard, and the poor ol’ trees were still trying to leaf out.

We were happy to finally poke around Penticton, given its reputation as a bike-trail nexus.

They even have special traffic lights for bikes!!

The Kettle Valley River Trail goes right around Okanagan Lake, through town, and up the other shore…

…with fun add-ons like this trestle, traveling through vineyards…

…and this raven, guarding its throne:

Oh, and speaking of guarding: I also met this guy along the path:

when you’re rich enough to own your own house-sized T-Rex

Can I just say, Okanagan Lake is RIDICULOUS? 84 miles long (135 km), 2.5 – 3.1 miles wide (4-5 km)…it just goes and goes and goes. [thanks, Wikipedia]

Who wouldn’t want to sit and look? Pairs of red Adirondack chairs are kind of a Canadian thing. Haven’t looked that one up yet.

Midway up this endless, snaky lake is the town–city?–of Kelowna. It was very close to Ground Zero in last year’s fire, so we were glad to see it seemed to have survived…but we found it too big and trafficky for the vibe we were in. After riding a short piece of rail-trail, we got out of town. (Might go back in a non-Vanna-sized car someday; tons more trail there.)

[Not pictured: Kelowna traffic jam. But also not pictured, to be fair, the 3-foot long gopher snake we met on the bike path.]

One ridge over from Okanagan, though, is a lake we fell in love with last fall: Kalamalka. Also ringed by a bike path…but right along the shore, zero roads involved.

Tiny in comparison to the endless Okanagan, Kalamalka is twice as deep (over 400 feet in places) and famously color-changing (colour-changing) thanks to molecules from limestone deposits which are temperature-sensitive. I learned all this from a kiosk I had ridden past last year…but I was still more fascinated by the scenery along the ride.

Like this mama grebe and her grebelings. Greeblings? Greebettes? So CUTE.

The water’s so clear I even found myself taking pictures of fish.

But, just as last year, I found myself focused on the parkland across the water, which includes no campgrounds–day use only.

Instead, we spent the night in Dutch’s Campground, a funky old place at the head of the lake. Not a park–but for campering, just our speed.

Next morning broke drizzly but warm, and I was thrilled to finally experience the land across the lake I’d been staring at: Kalamalka Lake Provincial Park.

On the promontory, looking right back at the place from which I’d taken its picture the day before

SO satisfying to finally get in there and hike all through its uppy-downy trails.

From Kalamalka P.P. we turned right and headed straight east, reversing our route from last fall. Truth be told, any road driven in Vanna vs. our Toyota feels like a completely different road. (As in, “Who put all these curves and steep downgrades in here?!”)

The steepest downgrade–12 percent!–took us to the ferry across the Columbia. Did this last year, but it still weirds me out, ferrying over a river.

But we also stopped in places we skipped past last year. Like the town of Nakusp (na-CUSP).

Nakusp’s waterfront, along Arrow Lake (aka the Columbia, dammed up). To be fair, everything’s gorgeous in azalea season, right?

Travel Tip: wherever you go in Canada, look for the Information Centres. Even the smallest towns have them, and we’ve always found them to be staffed by the FRIENDLIEST, most helpful folks. Which might be redundant when describing Canadians.

Nakusp Info Centre–look for the yellow “i” on blue background.

At the RV campground in Nakusp, it wasn’t only the people who were friendly.

These gals were ready to hop right into Vanna!

[not pictured: Gretchen cleaning the floormats next morning from what we’d tracked in. Turns out camping around free-range chickens isn’t the best idea.]

Now in the Slocan River Valley, where we’d spent two nights last year, we treated ourselves to an easy walk along the rail-trail, digging the peace.

At the end of this day, we decided to treat ourselves to a night in a hotel, with restaurant food and everything. But I’ll catch up about that in my next installment, OK? Right now I’m going to leave you with these peaceful flowers (…and extra credit if you can name them for me, because Google apparently can’t).

Dipping My Toes Back In…To an Old Habit

Posted on May 26, 2024 by gretchenwing

The creeks in the Hoh rainforest, on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, are so clear you can barely see them.

Looks like you could stroll right across it, right?

On a recent, brief “campering” trip–getting Vanna Grey used to the idea of short, regional outings instead of 8,000-mile, cross-country odysses–this thought occurred to me: I miss sharing the images of travel, and the thoughts they inspire. I miss the similes, I miss saying “those rainforest creeks are as invisible but as profound as my love of sharing.” I miss blogging!

“It misses you too,” I imagine the Hoh River murmuring.

Two years ago, I embarked on a Master’s program in LA, earning a degree in Creative Writing. As I wrote then, the degree itself wasn’t important; the WORK was. And in order to give myself time and space for that work, I backed off blogging. Backed WAY off. I haven’t counted, but I think I’ve only posted a handful of times in the past two years, mostly just when traveling.

Humptulips River says, “Yep, that seems accurate. Low flow.”

But I’m almost done. Not with my novel; that’ll be easily another year. But done with the program, the requirements, the deadlines. The work is all self-paced now (and a lot cheaper.)

Yep, those requirements are going to disappear…like this magical beach creek!

Which means I’m back, as a blogger. And I’m psyched about that. I get to share all the brilliant diversity of the Pacific Northwest, from tidepools…

to more tidepools:

From the smaller forest inhabitants…

Like these trillium, which start out white but turn purple as they age. Who doesn’t want to do that?!

…to its bigger ones…

Like this guy, who confirmed my family’s unofficial motto, “If you get up early, you might see a moose!” (Or elk, in this case. No one but him & us on the trail that morning.)

…to the biggest of all:

I can’t wait–though, actually, I WILL wait, because our next trip is coming up soon. And then my graduation, which–yes, I will write about.

And then, you know what else I might share? Good old home life, which recently issued a giant “Ahem!” That same weekend we were campering, deep in the sky-obscuring forest? The skies of Lopez were doing THIS:

Lopez Island aurora borealis. Image courtesy of Shari Lane

Sometimes, there really is no place like home. But here, there, or anywhere, I’m looking forward to sharing it with y’all again. See you soon.

Road Trip XII, Days 35-42: Bringin’ it Home

Posted on March 28, 2024 by gretchenwing

Before spending the penultimate night of my 6-week circuit of this immense nation of ours in Seattle, I encountered this show-stopping rainbow over Lake Washington.

Who knew the I-90 bridge could look so magical?

I also encountered a woman taking the same photo. We smiled at each other, and she said, “You know, you really remind me of my sister in Michigan.”

My response: “This is going to sound funny, but I just arrived here…with MY sister…from Michigan.” We both smiled and shook our heads. Whoa.

That’s how this final week of Road Trip XII has gone–the Seester Week. (See previous post for explanation.) Full of kismet, full of symmetry. For example, our 7 nights together went like this: Stay with friend; camp; camp; motel; camp; camp; stay with friend.

But let me break it down a little. We left “Michigan in the rear view” a week ago, with one final walk in a park with these amazing black squirrels who refused to hold still for their photo.

I really need to get a zoom lens for my phone.

Night #1 we spent with a friend of mine from college, in Evanston, IL (pretty much Chicago). He & his family showed us wonderful hospitality, complete with chicken pie from a local bakery.

Yes, I know Hoosiers are from Indiana, not Illinois. Still a great pun.

It snowed a little that night, but Vanna shrugged it off.

Note the open compartment near the rear: one bad curb and the locker door was hanging by a hinge. But that happened before Illinois.

We headed out into the Iowa landscape. Iowa does NOT deserve its reputation for flatness. I found its curves especially beautiful in snow.

We hoped to camp at this park outside of Des Moines, but the campground wasn’t yet open. We settled for a walk…of which the most memorable part was the MUD.

Night #2: the campground we settled into didn’t merit a photo. At least the snow melted!

Next day, we hit the jackpot with a lovely park outside of Lincoln, Nebraska.

During our walk, snow fell, turning everything miraculous.

But the biggest miracle of the day came later, approaching the center of the state (along I-80): we met the migrating Sandhill Cranes.

This is only a TEENY FRACTION of all we saw–so hard to capture as we whizzed by! But imagine each bird standing 4 feet tall. That’s what you’re looking at here. I tried capturing them in flight…

Again, may I remind you: each of those specks is a 4-foot-tall bird!

Night #3, we bedded Vanna down at a nearly-deserted campground by the North Platte River…

“What does she mean, she bedded ME down? I’m the one with the bed!”

Before darkness fell, though, I spent most of my time nervously pacing by the river as I listened to the Tarheels successfully grit their way back into the Sweet 16.

Does this mean I have to come back to the North Platte for every game now?

On into Wyoming! We made a walk-stop at Laramie…

Cactus? Yep–we’re in the WEST now, baby!

…but the weather was becoming worrisome.

Knowing we might well have to delay our start next morning for snow & ice, we opted to spend Night #4 in a motel in Rock Springs.

“Sure, and just leave us out here to freeze our seats off!”

But Wyoming was good to us. Snow & ice, yes–but nothing that didn’t melt away by the time we got to the steep parts of the highway. So we were relaxed enough to enjoy gorgeous Bear River State Park, just before crossing into Utah.

The park has its own wee herd of bison, including some albinos.

They look so cuddly! Except for the horns. And, y’know, the thousand-pound bodies.

We hated to leave that park. But most of the trail was snowed over, and Seester didn’t bring boots.

So we just watched the magpies a bit, and went on our way.

‘Bye, Wyoming–ya done right by us.

Not saying I want to LIVE there…but it is beautiful.

Along our route, Utah plays the tiniest part:

Taken from the car. Next time for you, Wasatch Range! We’re kind of done with snow for now, thanks.

Night #5: Twin Falls, Idaho. Not pictured: the actual falls. It was terribly windy & late when we arrived, so we just glimpsed the Snake River Canyon in passing and called it good.

But the moon was pretty wowza that night, rising over the campground.

Next day we stopped for our walk in Boise, along the Boise River. I’m used to riding a bike there, so it was nice to go slow and appreciate the greenbelt.

Crossing into Oregon, I celebrated: finally, back on Pacific Time!

Night #6, our campground view, in Pendleton, OR, looked much the same…

…with the additional reminder that SOMEbody’s still getting snowed on!

The last full day of driving, through Oregon and back into my dear Washington, I took zero pictures, mostly because it was RAINING the whole time. These song lyrics kept running through my head:

“I’m going back to the land of wet/ No winter wonderland regret/ They don’t sell postcards of the rain/ But what you see is what you get.”

(Not pictured: rain. But check out that rainbow at the top of the page!)

That symmetry I mentioned? Night #7 we spent with an old friend of my Seester’s, just as #1 was with an old friend of mine. A lovely palindrome of evenings: friend-van-van-motel-van-van-friend. And to top it all off, while I was gone, lo these many weeks…spring arrived!

I am feeling so FULL of gratitude for this almost-safely-concluded trip. It was so good to travel with my Sees! And now? I get a couple more days before she flies back to Michigan. I get to reunite with The Mate on Lopez Island, and we get to cheer the Tarheels as they try to move on in the tournament.

And Vanna gets some well-earned rest. Because, you know what? I think we’re going to stay home for a bit now. I may check in later about What I Learned On My First Van-cation. But for now…thanks for riding along with us!

Road Trip XII, Days 31-34: Change in the Weather, Change in Us

Posted on March 21, 2024 by gretchenwing

It was still spring when we left North Carolina.

But by the time we’d crossed the northern border into Virginia, our plans were already changing. Our lovely recreational plans: stop at West Virginia’s New River Gorge State Park, camp there, then on the next day to the beautiful Hocking Hills of southern Ohio.

We only did one of those things.

It’s not that Vanna can’t keep us warm in sub-freezing temperatures, which is where the mercury was headed by the time we got to WV. It’s just that the campsites on offer there didn’t involve electricity, and we didn’t want to be running our generator to stay warm. Too high of a learning curve there for me & The Mate.

Knowing this would be our last with eastern mountains for another year, I made the most of their easternness, like my favorite: rhododendron thickets!

If there’s a better word for this than “thicket,” I’d like to hear it.

The woods seemed to know as well as we did that winter wasn’t quite ready to release its grip.

Faced with blowing snow as we pressed northeast, we opted to spend the night in a motel. Gretchen was SAD…until she discovered this motel offered FREE SOUP and a COOKIE.

[not pictured: soup, nor cookie. But you can imagine: it was creamy chicken with big, fat noodles. Not quite enough to make up for not camping…but close.]

Next day dawned colder, with wind gusts closing in on 30 mph. Not a day for recreatin’. These through-the-window pictures are all I got of Ohio, for now.

Near this farm, an Amish horse-and-buggy trotted past, but I wasn’t swift enough to capture them.

The wind was HORRIBLE. The Mate & I agreed it was time to get in touch with my Seester in Ann Arbor and ask if we could arrive a day early. She said sure, so we arrived that afternoon.

[not pictured: Seester]

Seester moved her car so Vanna could take her spot.. She BARELY fit. Who’s a big girl?

Being my Seester, she understands about the importance of the Daily Workout, so she & The Mate went to the gym while I went for walk along the Huron River.

Always before I’ve been on my bike there, so for the first time I walked on this WONDERFUL pedestrian–only boardwalk trail down in the river’s flood zone wetlands.

Isn’t it the coolest? It even goes under the railroad bed.

“Adventure awaits” is what this picture says to me.

Not many signs of spring yet, other than the bluebirds…but this pitcher plant looked hopeful.

My favorite, though, was this MASSIVE oak, which called to me through the woods. Oaks like these are one of the Five Things I Miss about the east (yes, Michigan still counts as east to me).

As of today, Road Trip XII is undergoing a change I should probably mention. The Mate has an important commitment in Seattle next Monday, and given Vanna + weather, we knew trying to get home that fast was a terrible idea. That’s where my Seester comes in. This morning I put The Mate on a plane from Detroit to Seattle, and Seester’s going to take his place helping me drive Vanna home.

“What are we waiting for? Bring on the Rockies!”

See you on the road…or maybe at the end of it!

Road Trip XII, Days 24-30: Some Things Old, Some Things New, One Thing Carolina Blue

Posted on March 16, 2024 by gretchenwing

No matter the weather when we get to Tierreich Farm, where I grew up in the Piedmont of North Carolina, we always go find the trout lilies.

Warm as this year is, they were past their peak, though we still found plenty down at New Hope Creek. And, as with almost every constant-seeming aspect of our stay here, they got me musing on how much continues, 6 decades on…and how that background throws into relief anything new.

Constant: my folks’ ridiculous driveway, which never bothered me before I drove a 22-foot-long van.

Don’t worry, Vanna. We’re parking you on this side and walking across. Because of…

Constant: my 93-year-old dad’s enthusiastic curiosity about ALL new gadgets, including Vanna herself. New: these days he needs a golf cart to go see things.

Actually, Dad’s a perfect combo of constancy and novelty. The fact that he had a stair-elevator installed in our basement stairs = a surprise. The fact that he really enjoys it = not at all a surprise.

Another example: he was one of the first I know to avail himself of the amazing technology in electric-assist tricycles (new). And he uses his just as he used to use his legs when he was marathon training: 20+ mile loop, with stop for a treat along the way.

I had to work hard to keep up with this guy!

My 88 year-old mom’s constancy exhibits itself in her physical fitness, her dedication to the woodsy life, and, I have to say, her beauty.

Speaking of Mom’s fitness: click here to read about last summer’s Master’s International track meet in Greensboro, NC.

These tiny bluets, also known as Quaker Ladies, always reminded me of Mom, for their simplicity and lack of ego. (Though “Women” would work better than “Ladies.”)

Speaking of Quakers, something new at the farm is this track, built into what used to be our back pasture. Slowly, my folks are donating the remainder of their land to Carolina Friends School; this track is just the latest piece of that evolution.

If you’d like to understand why this land is going to a Quaker school instead of to me and my sisters, click here for a little history.

But Stevie, World’s Cutest Ass, remains as constant (and cute) as ever–thank goodness!

Pushing 40! There’s a reason people say “donkeys’ years”. (Unless they mean donkeys’ ears?)

I adore the ability to know a stretch of woods so well, I can look up into a huge old oak and know that the thick-looking middle part used to be a hole…which, over the decades, I have seen grow in, and close up.

Off course, the most constant part of The Mate’s and my Road Trips is their raison d’etre: ~~worshipping at the altar of~~ watching Tarheel basketball with our fellow Tarheel fan~~atic~~s. Again, for those of you new to Wing’s World, click here for a brief recap.

Some food is also involved. (NC-style BBQ; collards; slaw; hush puppies & fried okra.)

One new thing I noticed, in DURHAM, of all places–home of arch-~~enemy~~ -rival Duke: this supermarket display, featuring Carolina’s AND Duke’s colors.

How open-minded! Maybe this diversity stuff is taking hold after all. Or maybe they just want to sell more soda.

Another new thing, on the disturbing end of the scale: the heat here. 70-degree weather in March is quite common in this part of the state (as is snow and ice storms…click here on that topic). But 80 degrees? When the woods haven’t leafed out yet? That just feels WEIRD.

Pictured here: Gretchen trying to make the most out of too much sun in trees.

Unsettling as climate change is for all of us, I still take heart in this single tiny flower I met down at the creek. Not only is it persevering in the heat…it’s also just about the right shade of blue.

Road Trip XII, Days 19-23: Blueridge Blues (If Blues Were Happy)

Posted on March 8, 2024 by gretchenwing

The Mate and I know already what fortunate folks we are. But when we come back to the Blueridge of NC, we REALLY know it.

Thanks to accidents of history and confluence of taste, we have an embarrassment of dear friends in these mountains, and this year we were able to spend time with most of them.

Vanna, not so much. Our first set of friends live up at 3,500 feet; the drive up was only half as terrifying as the drive down. And their driveway?

Because they’re wonderful people, our friends were able to secure a parking spot for Vanna at the edge of a neighbor’s property. We left her there for 3 days, schlepping our stuff the remaining 1/4 mile up the mountain on foot.

What happened to dancing w/ her what brung ya?!

This mountaintop neighborhood is a wealthy one. Some of the houses are, in my opinion, ridiculously large–especially when I learned that this one is empty more often than not.

But I have to admit, it’s pretty enough that I took its picture.

The lots up there are large enough to protect the sense of mountain-ness, and care was clearly taken in building the road.

Aside from the fact that we adore our friends and they spoil us rotten, this was simply a very peaceful spot to hang out. It’s always hard to leave Butler Mountain.

Yes, that is the moon hanging out, waiting to say Good Morning to the sun. Honestly.

But our next stop was a picnic date with one of my VERY oldest friends (from Middle School) + husband + sister, down a few thousand feet at the French Broad River, which flows through Asheville. We chose this spot because we knew we couldn’t get Vanna into our friends’ driveway either. (slightly embarrassed eyeroll)

Lucky for us, the French Broad boasts a terrific bike path! And it was a gorgeous day. All this plus good friends & a picnic too.

Asheville is super trendy right now, and expensive, but I did find myself intrigued by this row of what I take to be “Tiny houses” down by the river.

Cute, right? But probably not a Tiny Price Tag.

From there we journeyed an hour to the northeast, to the South Toe River valley, home of the Celo Community and the Arthur Morgan School. I wrote about my Celo history two years ago; you can read about it here if you’d like some background (or just to learn more about this cool place).

THIS friend’s driveway was, finally, fully Vanna-accessible…as long as we took it slowly.

Also magically mossy. Believe it or not, our friend is not an Elf.

The sunny blue of Asheville departed at Celo, but the wintry woods are just as beautiful in fog.

The Mate doing his best impression of a rhododendron

To know these woods with such intimacy…to stare at them from a kitchen window or a sofa, to walk right out the door, to say the names of the creeks and the peaks…this, to me, is a privilege far beyond the simple joy of SEEING this place. That is our greatest gratitude, to the friends who have sunk roots here, allowing us to return again and again.

Till next time, White Oak Creek! Don’t you change.

Road Trip XII, Days 14-18, Albuquerque to Alabama: “Not Pictured”

Posted on March 4, 2024 by gretchenwing

Campering may be different from camping, but in one respect, road-tripping in Vanna Grey is no different than in any other vehicle. When it comes to route, THE WEATHER IS IN CHARGE.

And thanks to climate change, late-February weather has tricks up its sleeve we’d never have dreamed of when we started this road-tripping business a dozen years ago.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We left Albuquerque on Thursday in bright, innocent sunshine. If my Adventure Buddy Beth hadn’t been leaving too, we’d have been mighty tempted to stay.

Drawing us forward, though, was a reservation that night for one of our favorite road-trip discoveries: gorgeous Palo Duro Canyon.

Pictured: Palo Duro in 2017. Not pictured: Palo Duro in 2024.

Imagine the prettiest little cousin of Grand Canyon, only 30 minutes from Amarillo (the big ugly child of a cattle feedlot and a monster truck rally).

But I shouldn’t be saying mean things about Amarillo. Right now it’s an endangered oasis in a hot desert of suffering, thanks to the million-plus-square-mile fire that was burning out of control just north of there. Just when we wanted to drive on through.

[Not pictured: The Smokehouse Creek Fire. Nor all the fires in Oklahoma, along the length of I-40…the route we’d planned to take.]

Weirdly enough, the top of the Texas Panhandle was also getting SNOW that morning—good for the fires, I guess, but one more reason for us to keep ourselves and Vanna out of trouble.

[Not pictured: “Some say the world will end in fire/Some say in ice.”]

So we ditched all plans, and our camping reservation (sob) and headed SSE to Roswell (not pictured: aliens), then straight east into…big sigh…West Texas. Which, as it happened, was delightfully snow-free, and NOT ON FIRE.

[Not pictured: West Texas, or the motel we defaulted to when we couldn’t find a campground that felt like it catered to—well, folks with discretionary funds and time. Vacationers, not those planted by necessity. I’m glad those campgrounds are there for those who need them. I just didn’t want to stay there.]

[Not pictured: those campgrounds.]

Our second day driving through Texas, we did score a decent bike path on the outskirts of Dallas…

(Not pictured: the stench from either a dump or a sewage plant—or both)

…and a pleasant campground at a state park near the Louisiana border. We got there as darkness fell, and next morning I forgot to take a picture, so…

[Not pictured: Eastern Texas’s Martin Creek Lake State Park]

Next day we got another nice bike ride in Shreveport, Louisiana.

It’s the Red River, but it’s doing a pretty good Mississippi impression.

Along the way, I noticed that the clover we were zooming past all seemed to have spotted leaves. On closer examination…

Happy St. Pattentines Day? St. Valentrick’s Day? “I love you; good luck!”

It was a Tarheel Men’s Basketball Day, and since we’ve been missing a lot of games due to travel, we decided to treat ourselves to a motel in Clinton, Mississippi with a TV. Afterward, I took myself on a walk around the nearby campus of Mississippi College and made the acquaintance of some attractive trees.

when it’s such a relief just to have something to photograph

#treenerd (Doesn’t it seem like this one needs a swamp instead of a lawn?)

The trees didn’t care about the Heels’ victory as much as I did.

On our last day that doesn’t include my home state of North Carolina, we managed to combine both recreation and camping by stopping at Oak Mountain State Park, just outside of Birmingham, Alabama. We’ve stayed here twice before and I’ve recorded our admiration for the park’s trails both times.

Spring was busting out…

Sometimes this is all you need. Which is good, because this is all you get.

…including my favorite southern treat, the redbud:

Our last visit, however, was a few years ago and since then I’ve read a book which has changed the way I experience Oak Mountain. Economist Heather McGhee’s book, The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together, explores the lengths to which white America cut off its own nose to spite its segregationist face, when forced to integrate public facilities following the Brown v. Board decision.

Rather than swim with Black folks, white folks all over the country FILLED IN AND DESTROYED THEIR PUBLIC SWIMMING POOLS. The largest such public pool in the U.S. at the time? According to Dr. McGhee, it was right here at Oak Mountain, and it’s now an equestrian field. Next to which we camped.

(Not pictured: a huge public swimming pool filled with multi-racial families.)

Talk about erasure! We’d enjoyed the place twice and would have continued to blithely enjoy it without knowledge of this despicable history, had it not been for Dr. McGhee’s scholarship. I highly recommend her book; it will actually fill you with more zeal than despair.

But for now? It’s on to North Carolina, and all the friends and family and fried chicken and Tarheels that entails. I can just picture it. See you there!