“It was less like seeing than like being for the first time seen, knocked breathless by a powerful glance . . . I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until at that moment I was lifted and struck.” – Annie Dillard

I do some of my best thinking while making necklines. 

Some have been critical of my decision to take this sabbatical in the woods. They

ask when I’m going to stop “hiding out in Michigan,” or offer (mostly unsolicited) advice and suggest gently that I consider if I am “running away.”

What they don’t know is that I have been running away from myself for the last ten years, searching for peace outside of myself: through a marriage that didn’t work, through a job that didn’t last, through pretending to be something I am not.

Here in this cabin, I am no longer “hiding out.” I am authentic.  I am more completely and contentedly my self here than anywhere. I have little, and yet, I feel more grateful and satisfied with my life than I ever did when I was climbing some proverbial corporate ladder. When you strip away the clutter, gluttony and overabundance of life in America in 2012, you see the beauty and grace in simplicity. The less I have, the more complete I feel.

But, what I miss the most – what hurts the most – is the space between my two girls and me.

 

Last night, while weaving the black six millimeter poly rope into the small “O” shaped tethers that will attach to 10 of my best friend’s collars on the gangline, I thought about my children. My human children.

In June of 1999, I spent most of my days (and nights, it seems) walking the floors of my apartment on the backside of the Teton Range in Victor, Idaho with an intolerant, wailing infant Sophie.  I sometimes held her to my breast for hours just to have some quiet from her incessant crying. 

My Sophie Queen is now 13 1/2 and has blossomed overnight into a beautiful young woman who I am proud of. She is funny, sensible, smart and beautiful. 

Sophie's summer portrait, 2012

In May of 2004, Elise was born,  and she's always been my spunky, fiery little strawberry blond. My girls are totally different, but both beautiful and make me proud.

Elise's fall portrait 2012

I am a lot of things, including a mother. Why is it sometimes the things we are conflict with one another?

  

Sometimes it is necessary to heal ourselves before we can be good parents, role models, and providers.

I pray every night that God keeps my girls safe and happy while I am away. I do not take this time lightly. I am using it to get strong, realign my soul with my life, and come clean from ten years of running. Stopping here in this cabin in the woods, I am cracked open by God’s grace, and have come clean from pretense.

Those who criticize or judge I have no use for. Be my friend, or be nothing at all.

*                                    *                                    *                                    *                        *

Today is ridiculously warm. The sun emerged from its nest of clouds and warmed us up to 62 whopping degrees. It’s been a lazy Sunday. I spent time sitting out in the dog yard beside each dog singing to and loving on them and relaxing in the mild temperatures. 

Nova play bowing with me

We did a hard, slow run on Friday and the dogs felt it the next day. Tomorrow we're back on the trail. 

With love from the U.P. - I miss my girls! Love you Sophie and Elise! 

Happy Birthday Sophie and Elise!

At 4:20 Mountain Time (6:20 Eastern Time), Sophie was born in Jackson Hole, Wyoming 10 years ago.

Amazing how time flies, isn’t it?



Last night, she was upset about a homework assignment and crying. I started singing her favorite Bob Marley song to her: don't worry about a thing cause every little thing's gonna be alright.... I thought back to when she was a colicky infant who wouldn't stop screaming. I used to sing Bob Marley songs to her to quell her colicky cries. The sound of the streams swelling full with mountain run-off seemed to lull her. She's always been my easy going nature girl.



Ten years ago yesterday, I was holding a newborn in my arms for the first time. Tiny and impatient from birth, Sophie came three weeks early while I was eating carrots and watching Star Wars II in Victor, Idaho. She’s always been gentle and easy going, a sensitive and compassionate child with a love for nature and animals. Her father and I spent the first part of my labor in Grand Teton National Park hiking between contractions, searching for coyote scat as a distraction. She was easy on me, coming quick in only six hours and weighing only six pounds. Conceived among 180 Alaska Huskies at Frank Teasley’s Jackson Hole Iditarod Sled Dog Tours, she was destined to be a dog person.


Sophie in 2006 rounding up puppies at Nature's Kennel, home of Tasha and Ed Stielstra and their 100 or so racing Alaskan huskies

She didn’t cry when she was born, but she sure made up for it later: she cried constantly during the first four months of her life. I walked endlessly through the tiny town of only 300, trying to quiet her. Being in nature, hiking through the forest with the sound of the streams and the sway of my walking with her strapped to me seemed to calm her. Though she was born during the tail end of May, it snowed the night she was born there in Jackson Hole, where snow lingers long. She was destined to love snow.


Sophie with Foxy (left) and Mandy (right), the original Lazy Huskies

Five years ago today, I held a much different newborn in my arms: Elise.



With the fiery spirit of her father and the tenacity of me, she is a rough and tumble kid who can dish it out and take it.



Even in the womb, when she kicked me, I knew she was going to be strong, a fighter. At eight pounds two ounces, she took her time emerging into this world and put me through a hellish 22 hour labor. And even today, no one can make Elise do anything before she wants to. She screamed and cried when she was born.



Curious, with a fierce determination and a proclivity for music, Elise is a natural entertainer. She is charismatic. Born to musicians and writers for parents, Elise was destined to be an entertainer.


Elise singing in the backyard

Sophie and Elise are typical sisters. Most of the time, they are in harmony.


At Dussel Farm, fall of 05

But sometimes they have their differences.

Watching my girls grow up has been one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. And though our lives are hectic and probably a bit unorthodox, with eight dogs at home (and more on the way), sharing their lives with the dogs is all they've ever known. My girls are flexible and resiliant, and I am proud of them. And I love them so, so much. Happy Birthday, Girls!


Elise swimming at her pool birthday party


Elise on her 5th birthday celebration


Sophie takes a break from swimming to open some presents from friends