Peacable Kingdom

Well, perspective is a good thing.
This is the seasons when the cockroaches prowl. It keeps you honest. We have to have the counters cleaned, the food put away, the dishes washed, the floor mopped. We forget for one night, and we have a visitor by morning. A cockroach can live on the oil of a fingerprint for two weeks, they say. But I doubt they are talking about these cockroaches. These guys are ... big. The average is 2". And they fly. But they still have that horrid skitter - you know, the light turns on and zygge-zip, they're running away. It's creepy.
I've figured out that the Buddhists have it good: the horrible part of cockroaches is contemplating killing them. If you just do the pacifist thing and let them live, they're not so bad. Until they get into your stuff. I really don't like cockroaches on the counter. So housekeeping. Such a priority.
And killing.
I'm resorting to dire methods: the broom with the dust cloth that tucks into the top, gathers dirt, then you pop the tissue in the trash - it's a perfect cockroach whacker. One smack, and they're history. Then you don't even have to glance at the corpse. Just pop off the tissue into the trash and say the blessing: "may your next lifetime be one of more grace and beauty."
Nothing, I thought, could get me to like them. But then came...
Rat droppings.
No kidding.
Suddenly, for the first time all year, I wanted to go home. Right now. Because, of course there are no rats in Vermont. Right. No, it was time to look for the invitation. It was only one rat - apparently they can leave 50 droppings a night. Seriously gross. But this one was passing through - only one or two droppings. The second one was upstairs, and bingo, there was the invitation: the hamster cage, with its yummy hamster food lying open.
Now the hamster has elegant refrigerated food, and the door to the drying room outside (which has an open drain) is always closed. No more droppings, no more fear of going pee in the middle of the night. But we also set out these little sticky boards, coated with yummy smelling stuff that hides both poison and glue. The rat, they say, steps on the board, takes a nibble, and is both stuck and dead.
Of course, there's the issue of what do you do with the board... pick it up|!?
Fortunately closing the doors and removing the invitation has worked, and we don't have to deal with a giant rat body.
Funny how that makes the giant cockroaches look small and insignificant.
And the bonus? Those rat boards also smell good to cockroaches. Since we put them in, I haven't had to broom-whack a one.
And if it is their choice to step on the sticky board and commit cockroach suicide, it's only partly my responsibility, right?
May your next lifetime be filled with grace and beauty.

Mother's Day at Feng Li

When you think about the reason for mother's day, it seems like a good idea. This woman puts you first for all the other days of the year, one day should be a good time to think about all she does for you. But usually the sentiment is celebrated in such a tacky fashion, candy-coated commercialism, and only acceptable because it is a child's cherished gift to their mother.
But can I tell you about what the teachers at McKinley's school put together?
All the mothers were invited at 9 in the morning. It was steaming hot, so we showed up in the gym, a little hesitant to do a two hour program of listening to kids sing, no matter how cute they were.
But instead, we were invited up on stage, where comfortable chairs were prepared, and a green tub filled with cold water at our feet. Our children were instructed to wash our feet, cold water and sweet smelling soap. Then they dried us off with a soft pretty towel, and went around to massage our shoulders. Then, the MC said, they were to whisper something sweet in our ears. They gave us all flowers.
The mothers got to express their sentiments with a pass-the-mic session, then the children got the stage. First the kindergarteners did a song and dance, then they put up a curtain painted with a heart. On one side, a 6th grader had a snare drum, the other side, he had cymbals. On a drum roll - crash! a child leaped through the heart, brought the mic to her mouth, and read aloud a letter of thanks to her mother. There were at least twenty children chosen for this portion.
What a heart-centered way to celebrate the holiday. It was wonderful.

natural shower

 

crossing the rapids

 

Hot springs eau natural

Hiking in this country is a trip. The mountains are not gradual. The trails don't wind back and forth like they do in the rockies. There is no gentle warm up as there is in the Adirondacks. You get on the path and whoosh. Straight up, or down, as the case was this time.
We went on the Cross Island highway (see Joplin's earlier post for photos) and drove a couple of hours. We were refreshed en-route by pineapples - it's the season, stop by the road and get a couple pineapples peeled and sprinkled with sour plum powder. Yum. Then on up into the mountains.
The pull-off to the trail head is a steep concrete road that is access to a farmer's terraced land. It's about 8' wide, no room for mistakes, and quite steep down. We found a slightly wider place to park, then continued on foot to the trail head.
Earlier hikers have aided by putting up ropes for much of the trail. In some places, the ropes are nice because the way is steep and slippery with fallen leaves. In other places, the ropes are essential, because the trail is not steep, it's a cliff, and the ropes are there to rappel down. We were hiking with our friends Flora and Martha, with Jeff and his baby Calila in a pack, and with two other friends. Martha, who is McKinley's best friend here, has never been hiking, and this trail was terrifying for her. But she rallied, with step-by-step coaching. McKinley scampered, cheering up the baby, then cheering up Martha.
Three hours later, we were down at the river, a rushing, clear turquoise ice water, with sandy beaches on both sides. We ate lunch, then bouldered upriver to the crossing to the hot springs.
There we could see it, eerie green and white formations, with steam floating up like clouds. We just had to cross the river again to get there. Here a great log lay down in the rapids, with a rope to assist. But the water was icy and so fiercely strong that we nearly had second thoughts. We made it.
Then we sat in rock pools, with showers of sulpher steamy water spraying our backs, with honeycomb stalagtites forming before our eyes, covered with brilliant green algae and powdery soft calcium. If it hadn't been truly natural, it would have seemed horribly fake. As it was, we just starred amazed, and steamed in the pools.
I don't know how anyone can limit the wonders of the world to any number - there are so many places that stun the senses just around the edge of our reasonable experience.