bag of leaves

Here's something that might make you laugh, or at least it's making me laugh. Most drugs are considered very dangerous for fetuses and their moms, but fortunately, the one pictured here is not, and it's also not not prohibited or regulated by law (whew!). I'm a big tea fan, especially now that coffee is off limits (unless it's decaf). However, I admit that I brew my tea in the typical, improper American way -- in little bags with attached strings. So, I was really tickled at my final childbirth education class this week to have been dealt a ziplock bag full of fresh red raspberry leaf tea. Drinking this tea is supposed to strengthen my contractions and shorten the length of labor. I'm really looking forward to it! (And actually, the tea I'm drinking in the picture is "Pregnancy Tea" -- in the little bag with an attached string -- and it contains red raspberry leaf also! Drinking it now will tone my uterus and prepare it for a safer labor).

moment of truth

The other weekend, I had something so memorable happen to me that I'm compelled to put it here. My dear husband, a friend from college, our dog, Buttercup, and I went to the mountains to enjoy the abundant snow. Well, you could say they maybe got to enjoy it more than I did. (I've been a little bitter about the fact that of all years for the east coast to get dumped with snow, it had to be the one in which I'm pregnant and not allowed to go skiing). Anyway, as it turns out, I think I had the best experience of all of us.

Because the ski resort was right next to the Appalachian Trail, I got the idea that we'd go on a hike. So I loaded my backpack and Buttercup's doggie-pack with snacks, water, and a bunch of other nice junk that I didn't really need to bring. We went on a lengthy walk -- probably 10 miles -- which is perhaps nothing compared to what I did hiking the AT last summer, but is long enough when you're going over mountains and you're pregnant.

When we got hungry for lunch, Buttercup and I found a lovely spot with a magnificent view. I took out my essentials -- the food and water -- plus a seat cushion to protect my bum from the cold. The rest of the nice junk I leaned against the railing of this overlook. A couple nibbles of my PBJ and I was so content. There is no peace, no sense of feeling infinitely loved by our Creator, than that which comes from being the sole person in a sanctuary of hawks soaring in the clean blue sky, mountains merging with hills merging with quaint valley, and bare deciduous trees patiently waiting for spring.

And then my pack full of nice junk fell over the edge. Well, more precisely, it kind of slowly slid over the edge. Slowly, but not quite slow enough for me to arrest it. I stood, and watched with disbelief as it landed on a boulder maybe 5 feet below. 5 feet isn't that far, but it was just too far for a pregnant girl to easily rescue, especially when there was the danger of a very long drop off right at the edge of this boulder, where the pack rested. So, of course, the pack only rested there for a few seconds -- just long enough to taunt me before saying "Farewell." I started to gulp as the pack did this to me, but then was startled as my seat cushion decided to follow the pack. The seat cushion took no time to say goodbye. It must have really been looking forward to the fall because it was gone in a split-second. After these things tumbled over this edge of the boulder, I could no longer see them. There was no telling how far they had fallen, and I will never know.

I looked back up at the gorgeous, expansive view, and after a moment of silence, burst into simultaneous laughter and tears. Who needs an iPod, a miniature video camera, extra (nice) clothing, maps, a 12-function pocket knife, toilet paper, and all that other stuff that I'd packed? The pack and many of its contents may have been among my few items of comfort along my memorable 1,100-mile trek this summer, and many of the things would set me back hundreds of dollars if I were to replace them new, and this was kind of devastating considering the facts that (A) I'm a low-paid part-time library aid for a rural independent school, and (B) my mom just told me over the phone that the rest of my family is having the time of their lives sailing in Florida right now and they're going to a Jimmy Buffet concert tonight, while I'm here alone with only a few snacks in the freezing cold; but really, the things were all just plain things -- very replaceable, after all. 50 years from now, I'd consider this one of the most hilarious things that has happened to me, I told myself. I finished my lunch, allowed the vista to comfort me, and then put our remaining snacks and water into Buttercup's pack, and walked away.

A few minutes down the road, an oncoming pick-up truck halted and rolled down it's windows. The two, young, scruffy dudes inside asked me if I knew where to find this place "Such-and-such."

"Why yes! I was just there!" I briefly narrated what had just happened at the overlook, to which they responded that they'd see if they could find my pack. I seriously doubted they could, but I volunteered to show them the way anyway. When we all arrived at the spot, I pointed down, and they called it "sketchy," but offered to leave my pack up on this overlook if they happened to retrieve it. So I thanked them and wished them a fun afternoon, and continued on.

Most of this day's journey had been on paved roads, but I was very eager to get to the actual Appalachian Trail. I'd already proclaimed on facebook that I was returning to the trail this weekend, and I'd be rather embarrassed and disappointed if my bad luck continued and I could not attest to making it to a white blaze. Well, this proved to be more difficult than I'd imagined. First of all, I learned, it is nearly useless to try and walk in 2 foot deep snow without snowshoes, especially when you're 32 weeks pregnant. Secondly, I lost my maps when the pack fell over the edge, so I no longer knew where the blue-blaze trail was that would lead me to the AT. Therefore, I slodged around in a bunch of strangers' backyards just hoping I might find what I was looking for. After a couple hours of this, I reasoned that I'd given it the old college try and should probably just head home. Well, being the dumb-blonde that I sometimes am (even if I'm more brunette, actually), I saw a sign on the side of the road as I was walking home that said "Appalachian Trail." Ha! How had I walked past this sign earlier and not seen it? Oh, my! I was so excited! Buttercup and I trudged through the snow again until we found the beloved footpath. Of course, you couldn't see the footpath, because of the snow, but I did see a couple of blazes. I kissed the first one I found. It was wonderful to be back. We enjoyed it for a few minutes, and then happily returned home.

The following morning, my husband and our dear friend hopped in the car with me to go back to the overlook. They wanted to see where I'd lost my pack, just in case they could come up with some crazy idea for retrieving it. Well, we got there. And I don't really know how to say this in a way emphatic enough to equal the emotion I felt at this moment, so I'll just plain say that the pack and the seat cushion were there as well, securely tied with some rope to the railing. All the nice junk was there too, although at first I thought they'd been stolen or taken as a payment for the labor of retrieving everything. No, those scruffy guys had just moved around some of the nicer things to safer, more interior places of the pack. Every bit of it was there. I looked around to see if there was a note or maybe a video message they'd perhaps left on our camera. Nothing. Now I've experienced a lot of "trail magic" in all of the hiking I've done, but nothing can compare to this. Neither I nor my husband nor our friend could unriddle how the scruffy strangers had rescued my pack. The only thing that seemed possible was that they rappelled down the cliff, but still, with at least a foot of snow covering many of their hand- and footholds? It was a miracle. I wrote as sincere of a thank you note as I could and left it tied under their rope they'd left behind to secure my pack. Then we all took a final glance at the beautiful view and came home. The whole experience was a moment of truth for me. Although I got back my stuff, what I really gained was recognition of what matters and what doesn't, and a restored faith in humanity. I hope I will pay it forward.

The joys of working at a school...

I've got to tell the truth. I have no passion or calling for working in a school, and would definitely have never sought out my current job if I had not been approached by the school librarian during unemployment. However, it has its moments of fulfillment. Today I got this drawing as a gift from a student and couldn't resist sharing it.

On the other hand, a 4th grader told me today that she thinks I'm old. Oh well.