Back from the Tetons (by Kat)

This past weekend was a bittersweet journey for us. Mr. Boom has the dearest, sweetest, most fun aunt, who just happens to live in the prettiest place I know. She and her husband built their log home from scratch on five acres at the base of the Tetons many years ago, and their they raised two amazing boys.

Amazing? How about spectacular!

The oldest boy just married a girl he met at helicopter school in Hawaii. She's such a sweetheart, and a babe to boot. They stayed in a cabin that the younger son built this summer. From wood he cut in the forest. And hauled back to the house, and stripped, and hewed out at the ends, and stacked, and chinked, and roofed, and holy heck how did he do that?!

The younger son, having given up his cabin to his older bother and brand spankin' new sister in law, stayed in the tipi he built the year before. And by tipi, I mean a 12 foot tall, 12 foot wide, stone-floored, sewn canvas, antler buttons to attach the canvas to the poles, mansion of a tipi.

The younger son followed the older son to Hawaii, though, and now mom and dad are following. So this weekend was a combination wedding reception and farewell to the Teton Valley party.

Did I get any photos of the tipi, the cabin, the beautiful yard? No. My photos are filled with the faces I love that I won't see again for a very long time. Therefore, I don't have a lot to show you, which kinda sucks.

But you know what? I learned a great deal this weekend. I saw awesomeness in action. I'm not the kind of person to put up with a lot of whining if people aren't willing to make changes. Now, I do whine quite a bit myself, but that's different, right?

So, here's Mr. Boom's aunt and uncle, complaining about the long (and I do mean loooooong) winters. So what do they do? They both quite their good-paying and very secure jobs, sold the house and everything in it, and they're following their sons to Hawaii.

Just. Like. That.

They're not sitting around saying "how could we ever move from this home we built by hand" and "this isn't the economy in which to quit a good job" nor "how will we ever find a place to stay in Hawaii." They're saying "watch out, here we come!"

Cowabunga, dude!

Isn't that cool?

Okay, so here are the few and the ugly. My vacation photos from the Tetons, the worst you'll ever see on the web!

A whole lot of gorgeous nothing near Salmon, Idaho

A house with a great view. I'd love to live here.

A moose on the outskirts of Driggs, Idaho.

A near-full moon lit the world and our tent the last night there.

Early morning view of the Tetons from our pillows in the tent.

A view of the Teton Valley from Horseshoe Canyon Road

An old farmstead up the Horseshoe. I'd like to live here, too.

Amazing light show on these aspen trees, but I couldn't capture it.

After the last fire in the pit, a little light shining up from
the top of the tipi, the son's cabin in the background, all lit by moonlight.
(This shot was taken after midnight w/out flash!)

Summer solstice (by Kat)

Gloriously busy around here! Zing-zang happy-skipping around here.

Here's evidence of a blooming elderberry.
Chirp chirp was in misery because the little blooms were stuck fiercely in her hair.
She smelled (to me) like heaven in springtime and (to her) like a scary old lady.


Summer solstice swung by, by summer herself is strangely absent. In fact, we had snow to the north of town last Wednesday. The poor local farmers are scratching their heads and pulling their beards in frustration. We've gone from a drought year (declared late March) to a nearly 100% water year (as of a few weeks ago).

This has been great for the garden, though!

Peas:


Onions:


More onions, four rows of beets, recalcitrant broccoli:


An alium transplanted from Mr. Boom's grandmother's home before it was torn down to make room for a housing development:


This volunteer broccoli plant, growing up through the bricks of our garden path, is so much further along than the broccoli I actually planted. Make of that what you will....



(I really do!)


And finally, Chirp Chirp made her first loaf of bread. See the difference in surfaces of the two loaves of french bread? One was stretched tight as it was rolled into shape, the other wasn't. Proof that a simple little technique can really make a huge difference in your final product.

And finally, a sneak peak...


Any guesses?

It's the reason I've been so busy this past week...

Autumn is Striding Toward Us (by Kat)

I love the last days of summer. These are the best days of summer. Not too hot, not too windy, not too dusty, not too much of anything, really, but a whole lot of something else.


When autumn really does enter, I get a certain giddiness that my husband tells me should be reserved for spring and for spring only.

These last few days of summer are not filled with that same giddiness, nor the drive to be productive, nor do they have a sense of fleetingness. I think that's why they're usually "wasted," and maybe that's why I like them so much. You can waste these days, and it doesn't really cost you much.


There isn't an overwhelming sense of "this could be the last warm day of the year, so get out there and USE it!" There's no feeling of "if you don't rake the leaves today, you'll be scooping them up in the Spring."

This something else is options. And it's freedom from having to choose an option, as well.

Options are good, and optional options might even be better.