The Latest From Around Town

Ella Painting The Brat



The Brat Lined Up With its Competitors



Ella Sings at the Cabaret


I haven't written in a while, and of course that doesn't mean we haven't been busy. Now that the weather has returned to a cold and wet pattern, I'm finding a moment to catch up on indoor work.

First of all, we've all been sick for several weeks. At last, it appears we are nearly through it all. Back at the beginning of the sickness, the Mattole School (Booster Club?) hosted the annual Pinewood Derby. Ella is old enough this year to appreciate the activity and the competition, and wanted to make her own car. Drew helped her create the design, called "The Brat" after our actual Subaru Brat mini-pickup. When we went to town, she wanted to buy an octopus and a blue sea horse to drive the car, but alas, we couldn't find such specific items, and we settled for farm animals instead: A white rabbit driving, and a cow riding in the bed in the back. She obviously had a full body experience of painting her car on a warm day. Ella's car came in second place in the kid category!

Next, we have Ella singing "Don't Put Your Finger Up Your Nose" at the Cabaret last weekend. Those pre-schoolers are so cute. It's a good thing we have them around for comic relief and cuteness. More of that with Easter coming this weekend.

Finally, our other big news is that our un-permitted house has been found by the building inspector, so we are now going to have to go through the permit process. After a brief moment of annoyance, we've decided it's really for the better. Now we won't have to feel we're hiding it anymore. So we're actively engaged in figuring out what to do and how to proceed. More will come on that, I'm sure.

Mountain Lion Visit

Tonight while I was cooking dinner, Drew came inside and asked if I could leave for a minute. "Hmmm, sure for a few minutes."
"I found something you have to see. I won't say what it is, but bring the camera."

I know both of us well enough to know that when we say such things, we've usually found some odd, natural history curiosity, for which either of us will drop everything to explore. We walked out of the yurt and headed south along the loop road, and then Drew led us down an abandoned road toward the place where we were going to put a second yurt. As we descended into the tree tunnel, I could immediately see what it was.

No way. I have lived here for more than three years, and I have spent many years before that looking, and I have maybe only seen definitive big cat evidence once, until today. It is unmistakable. The dead animal, covered with leaves and twigs and dirt, surrounded by raked grass. A look-alike to the small offerings our pet-cats leave in a patch of unmonitored sand, but oh-so-much-larger. Freakishly larger. Frighteningly larger.

Acer, our dog, has been barking more than usual into the bushes, and now we know why. Also, our neighbors have not only seen another lion kill right near their house, but they actually saw the critter itself. So I suppose we should be aware and on the lookout. I don't think I'll be sending Ella out to play in the yard by herself anytime soon.

It's curious to contemplate why there is a cat around now. Late winter hunger? Is it a momma with kittens? Drew also saw another recently dead deer across the creek, though he suspects a coyote kill. Maybe they have pups now, too, so there is extra pressure for food? I once thought there were lions around several years ago, based on the way Acer behaved on a walk home from our neighbor's home across the creek, but it was fleeting, and until now there hasn't been any action aside from coyotes. Though I admit to feeling some fear, I also try to look at it as an opportunity for learning and increased awareness.

House Insulation

At long last, we are insulating the house this week. It has been a long road to get here. We had hoped this step would have been completed in the fall, but if house-building and construction life has taught us anything, it's that everything takes much longer than you thought it would.

The reason it takes so long to prepare for insulation is that all the wiring, and all the plumbing and roof penetrations, and really anything that needs to travel in the walls or ceiling, needs to be in place before the insulating can take place, because once it's there, that's it. No more access.

We've had pushes like this before. The floor plumbing and drain and vent system, and water supply was like this too, before we poured the slab. It's chaos making sure we have covered all the details, decisions must be made, and all the while, we are praying we haven't forgotten something. The chaos was enhanced in this project because in order for the insulators to do their job, we had to make sure the house was empty. This shouldn't be a problem, because we don't live in the house yet, right? Well, in theory, yes, but the house was full of building materials, tools, and un-cleaned-up projects. So the cleaning/moving out project took a day and a half. But now that it's done, it's really relaxing, to watch the professionals do their thing, AND to appreciate the cleaned out space.

We are insulating with a spray-foam product that is very very cool. Grow Insulation uses a product called Sealection 500, which is a corn and soy based spray foam. They spray it in a liquid form, and in seconds, it expands 120 times it's volume, sealing all cracks and gaps. Once it cures (which happens quickly), it has no odor, is hypo-allergenic, and is totally non-toxic. We are really excited to see how this installation changes the thermal performance of our passive-solar home. We'll keep you posted on that.

Spring Planting

One of my first tasks upon returning home from five weeks of vacation (besides mowing grass) was to plant my warm weather seeds: tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants. I had the wherewithal to remember to make my seed order while I was still shussing the slopes of Heavenly powder, so my seeds were patiently waiting for me in the post office.

Each successive year with Ella right now is more and more fun, as she is able to participate in the regular, seasonal homestead jobs in more and more meaningful ways. I told her I was going to plant seeds, and she said, "Momma, I want to plant seeds too! [giggle]. So I set up the flats with potting soil, and made little depressions for the seeds, and she placed each tomato and pepper and eggplant seed lovingly into the cells, and gently covered them with soil. She also very much wanted to place the variety labels into the flats, to mark the rows: Sungolds, Brandywines, Muscovich, San Marzanos, and Super Marzano 3's. As last year, I am starting them inside the yurt, to avoid mouse predation, and to protect against the frosts we are still having.

In addition to the warm crops, I also planted about 1,000 onions, a mix of storage and sweet onions. They are hanging out in the cold frame, waiting to sprout. I also replanted beets, and transplanted out my broccoli and cabbage, which I started before we left on our trip. Our cold frame performed beautifully (coupled with dear housesitter Andrea's watering ministrations), to produce gorgeous seedlings ready for the soil on our return. I've tucked them in with a floating row cover and they are already growing well. I also transplanted in some bok choi, kale, lettuce and such. The spring garden is so full of excitement, so full of hopes for the whole season, planting fantasies and visions of what we will eat in the fall.

I do hope warmer spring weather comes soon...

Vacation from the Vacation

The Spring on the Cascades Trail

Last weekend, we vacated the Tahoe area, partly because we didn't have a place to stay, but partly due to the President's Day holiday, which overwhelms the resort mountain with hordes of people. The congestion is a little much. And after three weeks of holiday, we were ready for a break. So passing through Reno for a little fun, we headed to Quincy in the northern Sierra to visit with some dear friends.

Every other time we've visited them, it's either been wet, rainy, snowy and cold, or it's been unbearably hot. This time, daytime was springtime, and we spent our days wandering the hills near their house, in t-shirts, soaking up the sunshine. We hiked along the river, taking in cliffs, springs, bright green turf, rolling waterfalls, and the final day, we foraged as a group for quartz crystals. I've never done such a thing, and never realized you could *find* crystals, right there on the surface of the ground, but we did. It is definitely an addictive practice. We found some beauties. I found a small one that was the whole, faceted, perfect shape, and when I hold it up to the light, there are opalescent rainbows inside of it.

But even more than all the outside time, and the crystals, was the joy of being with our friends, who have created such a peaceful, grounded space. I love sinking into the feeling of timelessness, good food, good company, friends supporting friends all around. It was the perfect replenishing of spirit, needed for one more resort week.

Now we're back in Tahoe, and we were blessed with a powder day, right off the bat. Even better, Karl offered to take Ella for the morning, so Drew and I hit up freshies all over the place. Addictive, too. It's official. I will never be able to go back on this interest in skiing powder.

Polarity

Nearly Summer Solstice Mattole


Winter Mattole, at ~11,000 Cubic Feet per Second

On my way to the beach early one morning last summer on a solo seaweed collecting mission, the river was looking misty and beautiful and I couldn't resist stopping to photograph the summer solstice dawn flow. I had no idea that I would stop to photograph it again, at the other edge of its range, in full-bodied, raging, muddy winter flow. But as I toured around town shooting images of flooding, high water, and other winter scenes, I instantly remembered the summer image, and wanted to do a rephoto for this blog.

Here are two faces of the same beast. Though the summer image is not anywhere near the lowest the river becomes in October, before the first raindrops fall. When the river is that small, it is difficult to imagine the fullness of bankfull, the trees bobbing in the center of the channel, the little rapids, strainers, and the sounds. The nights before we left on our trip, we were suddenly aware of the sound of rushing water all over the landscape. This as a contrast to the sound of wind, or the sound of silence, or the sound of birdsong, the sounds of summer.

The other contrast here is the green leaves of summer versus the bare, craggy branches of the alders on the banks, wearing their catkin necklaces. The green of summer is pervasive, and therefore unnoticed, but the colors in winter stand out boldly, against the backdrop of browns, grays, and greens. Willow branches are bright red. Alder catkins are yellow, usnea lichen is white-green, and looks like splashes of sunlight, even when the sun is hiding behind clouds. All this reminds me of a quote Drew often cites:

"A warm man can never understand a cold man". Not sure on the origins of this sentiment, but I regularly feel this at the zenith of the seasons, where I lose all sense of the bipolar reality of living close to the seasons. Tonight, far from home, I am contemplating these two, alternating and opposite faces of this thread weaving our landscape together.

Vacation

Drew, Ella, and I are now on our long winter vacation, and today while Ella naps, I am fiddling with a photograph. I've been severely geeking out on photo literature, trying to learn more about this craft that calls to me more all the time. Specifically, today I was reading about how to take a color photograph and to make it look as though it was done using infrared black and white film. These images turn out with black skies and white foliage, and are very striking, if you've never seen one.

Anyhow, here's an approximation of what it might look like, though I don't have all the necessary software. This is a photograph I took last week on an oak photo shoot. The day was bright green, with intermittent sun and bright, gorgeous, high-piling clouds. I'm also trying on a lot of new digital developing skills, shooting with a tripod more frequently, and trying to get sharp-sharp-sharp photos. I suddenly realize how much I have to learn, but I am having a lot of fun with it.

Here's another photo from that day, though this is what's called an "HDR". It's a digital image that's a composite of several exposures. Enjoy these rich, lovely shots! You can click on them to see a larger image.

Big Rain Falling

East Mill Creek Raging



The Mattole Flows Straight Out the Estuary



Mainstem Mattole at the Foot of Moore Hill, @ ~ 14,000 cubic feet per second


Today is day three of heavy rain pelting the thin fabric of our yurt roof. The first day, Drew and I were in town on our first ever night away from Ella together, while Andrea held down the fort at home. Of course the tarp blew off the firewood. And she ran out of propane in the stove. But they stayed warm, and had a lot of fun visiting with friends.

Drew and I came home yesterday to ominous skies, ponding water in low-lying areas, and strong, gale-force beach winds. We stepped out of the car to feel those gusts on our trip home, and couldn't look into the high tide spray foaming up from the beach below the road. It seemed that if we jumped, we might just fly away like a kite. But it wasn't raining. The sky held for several more hours, but then opened up sometime after we went to bed.

It's been several years since we had a night like last night in the yurt. Howling winds rattled and shook the yurt, as strongly as when the earth was shaking last week. Only it happened every 20 minutes or so. The rain was always steady-hard, but sometimes so hard Drew and I couldn't hear each other, even though we were right next to each other in bed. Sometimes the hail came down. There was even some thunder and lightening. It felt much like being on a boat, no escape from the elements, even though we were inside. The back of my shoulders crept up and cringed a little, as the rain intensity ramped up. There is a distinct feeling that the roof of the yurt might rip off suddenly, or who knows what else. Like there is some giant and angry but unseen mother-nature monster thrashing about wildly, thoughtlessly swinging her arms around. I kept hoping we would chance to stay out of her way. The strength of it all is mind boggling. And just when you think it can't rain any harder, it opens up the throttle some more, and let's us have it.

As would be expected, the rivers and creeks are big today, and though the rain let up for a few hours this morning, and we even saw a peek of sun, it is pouring down rain again now. I hear we may have a break this weekend, but for now, it's recurring powerful rains, raising the river stage, and creating much excitement.

Looks Like We're in for It

This image is predicting 12-14 inches of rain in the next 16 days. The last time we had rain totals like this, the river was lapping at my front door at my Old Coast Wagon Road house.


I just caught word that a severe, El Nino-style wet weather period is setting up, the likes of which haven't been seen here since at least 1996-97 New Year. In fact, the way they talk about it on Weather West, Weather and Climate Discussions for California and the Western US, it sounds like it at least has the potential to create heavy rainfall for several weeks in a row, and even the potential for widespread, dangerous flooding.

The prediction of possible rain-on-snow events is reminding me of 1964, the year in which gigantic flooding unraveled our county. We are still dealing with some of the effects of this one flood event. Our creeks and rivers have the general shape they have now due to extremely high flows, which haven't been seen since. Visitors to the Eel River area have maybe seen signs stating "High Water 1964" at certain locations of Hwy 101. It's difficult to even fathom the Eel being so deep, and easy to imagine the devastation from such a flow. For those who have never seen them, the markers are usually about 8-10 feet above the roadway, which in places is maybe 30-40 feet above the average winter flow level of the river. Really.

We are preparing to leave our little valley for our annual winter walkabout, though if things unfold how they're predicted, it's possible we won't even be able to leave the valley. Sometimes, in large storm events, both exits from the valley close. It's particularly interesting to consider these effects given our 6.5 earthquake last week. Hmmm. We may not be going anywhere.

So, get outside and enjoy the non-rainy skies for another day or so, batten down any unsecured hatches, move the firewood pile indoors, do your road work, check your culverts, mulch your bare land, put away your tools, and say a little prayer that all turns out well. May it be amazing, and safe for all.

Rex Passes On

Rex Walking at Drew's and My Wedding, 2003
Photo by Kira Lillie

Amid earthen rumblings, and blustery winds, one of our most important and loved community members, Rex Rathbun, passed on this past Sunday, January 10th. His 90th birthday would have been March 5. Though I can't say that I have had much of a personal relationship with Rex these last 10 years that I have been frequenting Petrolia, he had many indirect influences on my life and on this community, from which I regularly benefit.

Besides being one of the larger-than-life charicatures that curiously inhabit this remote valley, Rex has had a strong and essential hand in almost every local institution that we use and rely on. He was a major force in creating and envisioning the Mattole Valley Community Center, which has become a regular and quintessential gathering place for many of us. He was a founding member of the Mattole restoration organizations, and was a lifetime supporter of watershed restoration. He was the champion of Mill Creek, assisting in the preservation of over 200 acres of old-growth forest. He was also involved with the Petrolia Volunteer Fire Department, the Mattole Grange, and I don't even know what else. And that's just at a community-wide level.

In the 1980's, when many of the families who live at the farthest outposts of civilized life didn't have phones, they used Rex and Ruth's "Ranch House" as the hub for their communications and family life. And many also talk about Rex's tool lending library. As a skilled tradesman, Rex had just about every tool you could possibly need for many a homestead task.

But Rex's legacy is even more personal for me. His involvement with restoration is directly why Drew, who has become my husband and father-of-my-children, came here in the first place. Drew's college friend Drew's mom was friends with Rex's sister-in-law (I know, this sounds rediculous), and had visited the Rathbuns here in Petrolia. Through this roundabout way, both Drew's came to the Mattole to do an internship with the Mattole Restoration Council. Rex was the person they contacted, and communicated with in arranging their educational experience. Rex was also one of the first people I met when on my field quarter in college, when he loaded up the 16 of us in the back of his white truck, and drove us all up into Mill Creek (before such things were forbidden). And in the end, it turns out that Rex and Drew are related, about 5 generations back, where they share a common ancestor. When Drew and I visited Exeter, Rhode Island to look for grave sites and family history, we found that there was a Rathbun cemetery on Barber Road, dating to the 1800's.

So yesterday, we lost a connector, a mentor, a family member, an inspiration, a man who believed in public good, and wasn't afraid to speak his mind about anything. Rest in peace, dear Rex, thank you for all you have contributed to our collective lives. We will miss you, and send love to your Ruth, and the rest of your family. We will be sure that your grandson knows who you were, and that all your legacies live on.