Kefir and Kombucha (Fermentation Fun!)

Kefir for Trade! 

That was the title of the workshop I offerred at a festival in Guelph, ON, on the last weekend of July. 

I gotta say - I love yeast and bacteria...and as one workshop participant mentioned "your passion for yeast and bacteria is infectious!" hmmm good thing it is a beneficial bacteria considering it's infectious...

Kefir and Kombucha are two of my favourite foods. I love how good they make my stomach feel, I love the taste, I love the way such a simple form of life can turn a food so quickly into something completely different!
So below, I've shared the how of fermenting Kefir and Kombucha with you. If you are interested in getting fermenting for the health of your digestive system, for the delicious zingy taste, to create alternative barter economies (the yeast and bacteria re-produce-you can have oodles of fun trading it with other folks who wish to start fermenting!), or just for the fun of it, check out the little zine that I crafted up as a handout at the workshop. 

Oh - and let me know if you need some Kefir Grains to get started or a SCOBY for Kombucha - I will happily trade with you. 

Happy Fermenting! 

Epic East Coast Magic

Nova Scotia....she's a beauty.

Once during this most recent cycling tour of the Maritimes, while speaking to my mother on the telephone at one point, she gently asked me in a a way she hoped I wouldn't discover her sort of altererior motive "So, um, Kay. On this trip do you feel a bit more like maybe you're, um, over the whole biking thing?" all I could do was laugh, and immediately, with absolutely no hesitation, respond.  "Nope". 

Goddess, I love bicycles. I love bike touring. I love the way it makes me feel so hungry. I love the way I feel empowered. I get a kick out of people calling me crazy. I love how strong my body feels as I pitch my tent in another beautiful spot at the end of a long day in the saddle. I love how people talk to me; maybe because I am by myself, maybe because I am exposed, in the elements, in my environment, not enclosed in a metal box of a car, maybe because I look  bit cookey will a huge bike booty, peddling my way up mountains. But it is definitely a venue for conversation, words seem to flow easier between myself and friendly locals when I'm on a bike.

I met a young glass artist on the cabot trail, he was in a studio demonstrating his craft. I asked him how he got into this unique, niche craft that he now does full time. Without telling me the story, he just shrugged and said "I just sorta fell into it". I thought to myself, how the heck do you just fall into such a unique and beautiful craft that requires much practice, training and fluidity of movement? I questioned to myself, why the heck haven't I just 'fallen into something' like that? But as he cheered me on as I cycled away from his studio, I realized quite clearly, that perhaps cycle touring is what I have easily, strangely 'fallen into'. 

Ah, the bicycle. 

Okay so highlights. Again, since I am such an infrequent blogger, I will tell you, that since the solstice, I have had some epic, beautiful, tasty, warm, times. 

Let's start with the warm and she-she south shore - after leaving Windhorse Farm (which was composed of beautiful people, beautiful lands, and potentially my best tent sleep of the whole 2 month journey, and they have a beautiful subtext of: sustainability through diversity, and prove to really be trying for that with success), I rode through Bridgewater, and all along the ocean weaving in and out of bays and beaches, smelling the wafts of deep fried fish and chips, kelp and salt spray along my ride, all the way up to Black Point, about 60km outside of Halifax. 

I walked along beautiful beaches, stopped in cute, quaint seaside sailing villages, ate delicious veggie burgers at my hosts' place, and was loving the warm sunshine and coastal scenery. The following ride, into Halifax via Peggy's Cove, was easily as beautiful, though, a bit windy and wild as the mixed conifer forests, frosted with purple pink and white lupins, turned into the 'coastal barrens' ecotone that surrounds the famous Peggy's Cove.

And then, like that I was in Halifax! Couldn't believe it really. I spent a few nights in Halifax, spending more time with my buzzing bee friend Laurel, and her good friend (and now mine too!) Sydney. We did a pretty great job of eating our way through Halifax, and exploring a few of the parks and bumping into the freshest of fresh Otesha Olumni at the Farmers Market (who I had just trained at the beginning of May, was such a pleasure to meet them all again, post tour! Read their final blog post here.)

From there, the adventure continued, onward to the island area of Nova Scotia - all the way up to Cape Breton Island.

For a bit of historical understanding of Cape Breton's seeming interest from my end:  on possibly my favourite family trip ever embarked on was when I was maybe 12 years old, and my family, zoomed along from Ontario to the east coast of Canada, and camped and cruised for a few weeks in NB, PEI and NS. That was many years ago, yes, but I distinctly remember my father and I being in awe with the cycle tourists on Cape Breton island, loaded up with their camping gear in panniers, and tackling the mountains that are a part of Cape Breton Highlands National Park. I remember returning to Kitchener Ontario, and inviting one of my best friends to "someday ride our bikes around Cape Breton". I've always remembered that Cape Breton  childhood pipe dream - and can't believe that I now am so passionate about the bicycle as a mode of adventure at this point in my 'adult' life, that I was able to make that little dream come true!

So, of course, I couldn't be in Nova Scotia on bicycle without visiting Cape Breton, and circumnavigating the famous Cabot Trail. 

Starting in Baddeck, a cute lakeside community, I cycled clockwise, first through the beautiful Margaree Valley. I stayed with a local in Cheticamp, a talkative, adventurous, anto-corporation, down to earth man who warmly welcomed me into his cozy home for a night, and gave me lots of local knowledge about which springs I should fill my water bottles up at, which hikes were worth pursuing, and where I could find some great gaelic music to consume. The mountains came fast and hard, but calmly; I slowly plugged away for sometimes hours at climbing over the mountains of Cape Breton. Walls of green craggy mountains gave way to shorter trees, and bog ecology when I reached the tops of French and North Mountains, where the temperature was cooler, no towns were located, but the silence and solitude were so fulfilling....

Stopping plenty along side the few other tourists to snap photos of the gorgeous look off points, I was reminded of my time climbing mountains on bicycle in Tasmania, and my recent winter road trip along the ocean route in California on the Big Sur coast. 

Cape Breton felt like a wild, sparsely populated, piece of stunning energetically charged landscape. The people seemed nostalgic for the good old days when the fish were plentiful; and they were loyal and traditional in their music and Gaelic culture. 

After having been told by multiple people of Polletts Cove, a once inhabited cove, only accessible by the 10km hiking trail, or by boat, it became a location of desire for me - a quiet one, away from the more frequented places along the Cabot Trail. Though I didn't have the proper hiking pack, I was going to make the 3 hour hike work, so that I could spend at least one night at what sounded like a piece of the Cape Breton wild-scape. 

It was an epically physical day. I climbed French mountain on bicycle, up 500 or so meters from sea level at a 13% incline. I rode many more hills and kilometres past Pleasant Bay, in the North West of Cape Breton, and multiple km's more down a dead end dirt road. I made it to the end and packed my little backpack full with my camp stove, some food, and slung a dry sack with my tent and sleeping bag under my arm, and set of on the somewhat visible, but definitely overgrown hiking trail, after tucking dear Poppy away in the forest and locking her and my panniers to a tree. 

What a hike it was. Up and over 2 mountains, down into a couple valleys, and traipsing very close to the edge of steep, narrow cliff faces that plunged to the ocean below, the 3 hour hike had me sweating up a storm in the dry Cape Breton heat, and anxious for an ocean swim, and to cook up a big meal to re-plenish the thousands of calories that I was certain I had expended over the course of the day. 

And finally, in my exhausted state, I unexpectedly emerged from the forest...to the most beautiful sweeping landscape ahead of me:

A bright green, lush, steep, grassy, plateau...with a bunch of wild (!!) horses nearby to greet me. Ahead of me the landscape dipped down to a small river valley, which was braided with rocky shoals, some grassy, as the river made its way to it's spilling spot, the Gulf of St. Lawrence. I could see far off spots of colour, a few tents camped in the river valley. Grassy plateaus, with red soiled cliffs surrounded the cove, and as I glanced north, along the Gulf waters, the craggy mountain landscape characteristic of Cape Breton continued onwards, rugged, seemingly untouched...

I descended towards the river ever so slowly - partly because I was exhausted, but mostly because I wanted to drink in every moment of this highly energetic landscape that changed with each step I took.

I decided I would pitch my tent up on the opposite grassy plateau, cook my dinner on the beach, go for a swim, and watch the sun descend and disappear over the gulf waters....as I worked my way across the frigid waters of the river, and crossed over the grassy shoals, I noticed little splashes of colour - purple irises, yellow buttercups, and red red (delicious delicious) wild strawberries (I had the best ever breakfast the next day; hot brown rice cereal infused with the most flavourful, sweet strawberries of life...). 

It felt like a bit of paradise, like moment after moment of soul-bliss. I couldn't help but hear the song "Paradise" by Coldplay repeat on loop in my head, as I felt like I was in a place of paradise. 

That night, I laid in my tent, in the warm summer night, as the dusk sky slowly darkened and the breeze blew away any chance of mosquitos, the wild horses and cows retreated toward the forest for the night, I journaled these words...

"At this moment, my soul is so safe, I am in peace itself".

Ohhh....
___________

Onwards I continued along the Cabot Trail, taking in some other absolutely beautiful camping spots, talking in depth in a slow and lazy way to a local fisherman in the small traditional fishing village of Bay St. Lawrence, the most northern community of Cape Breton, and meeting many more locals and travellers alike who were drawn to this part f Nova Scotia for some of the same reasons as I. I rode over another couple mountains, swam at some stunning Atlantic ocean beaches (really fresh and crisp! But I was cycling in 30+ degree heat, so the swims in COLD water was well appreciated).  I took in some super duper fun Gaelic Ceilidh music, that had my feel and hands tapping, my body inevitably succumbing to the desire to jiggle and jive to the fiddle and bagpipe dominated music. I met some amazingly kind and open people too - including one man who caught up to me on the bike, and conversed with me consistency for what may have been hours, as we climbed the hills on the east side of Cape Breton. I later met up with him and his wife, and with the approaching remanants of Hurricane Arthur, they tok me home to their space in Sydney NS, so I'd be safe from the winds and rain on my last evening on Cape Breton Island. The following morning, I began my journey home towards Ontario.

And now, my adventures continue in this here province of Ontario! More to come of this journey that is summer, a time when my soul bubbles with comfort, glee and appreciation for that magical ball of fire that hangs so high in the sky...

I've included some photos from this journey on bicycle in the Maritimes below. 

So it goes, and never ends. 

raspberry cordial - Anne style - in PEI

The forest at Windhorse Farm

a south shore beach, Nova Scotia

St. Margarets Bay and the iconic east coast lupins

Peggy's Cove

Rhododendrons in bloom; Kayla, Sydney, Laurel

oh yeah Cabot Trail

Pollett's Cove

mmm wild straberries

Cabot's Landing, near Cape North

Bay St. Lawrence, small fishing village in Cape Breton

Near Ingonish

Gaelic toe tapping music

solstice

Solstice - it actually means, sun standing still. It's the summer solstice today, and the sun loving, warmth loving, person I am is all too excited to celebrate the shift in seasons, the change in the sun's movement which will begin in the other direction overhead. As the days pass from here, it's difficult to believe that the days will actually get shorter. 

But yet there is still so much to look forward to in this, the time of year in the northern hemisphere where people come out of their cocoons and fly near and far embracing the ability to just, be, outside. 

Speaking of just, being, outside...

I have been spending a great deal of time outside these past weeks. I have had many experiences since I last wrote, when I was on the brink of cycling away from Fredericton. 

Oh how I love how fresh air makes me feel, how the expenditure of energy on my bicycle or working in a garden, makes me hunger for delicious food, hunger for more adventure.

To knit together what these past weeks have been for me, I want to recognize the common string of yarn that has brought it all together thus far as I reflect a bit on this, the summer solstice....

It's all these interesting, bizarre, beautiful, spirited, spiritual, challenging, inspiring, generous, cute, loveable, weird, awesome, people...

I've met and been inspired by some seriously fantastic people over the past weeks. I've also deepened my connection and admiration for old friends. The scene of the past weeks goes a bit like this...

Enter (stage right!) the Land Trust that my good friend Kira's friends I've on. There are a number of different homes that are on the same massive expanse of property, most of which are built using straw bale, and eco building designs. They have uniquely defined legally what the land is and how it is treated. On site, an old small church has been turned into a Waldorf school for the children in the community. The river boasts a million delicious fiddleheads to be eaten at every meal, much like I picked and ate during my days with the community. They grow food, they play in the moist cedar forest (which I am certain is home to tiny precious faeries), they cleverly design their homes and gardens to make sense with the other critters, plants that use the space, and recognizing the microclimates and ecozone that they are intrinsically connected with. And the way the adults with children co-parent in the most gentle and accepting way, is so so so beautiful. To know that children grow up this way, it's really special, really fills me with hope to observe as an outsider. 

Enter (stage left!) the Fallsbrook Centre (and the super youthful and fun staff behind the organization). Though they've had their challenges this past year, as they've lost their ED and moved locations, they continue to offer innovative environmental education, internships, ecological restoration, free school, the list goes on. 

Enter (centre stage!) my family. While I was in Carelton county helping out at the Landtrust I mentioned above, my Granny passed away. Grief came flowing fast, hot and heavy like huge the tears that flowed...I took a bus back to Ontario, leaving my bike in New Brunswick, to be with family, and bid farewell to dear Ollie's mortal body, and acknowledge that her spirit is free...

Enter (stage back (is that possible?)) Peggy. My mainstay in Fredericton. Quiet and meek, she is the mildest, sweetest woman, always willing to store my things, have me stay, let me use her computer...

Enter (stage right) random new friends in Moncton, who are all involved in rad social change work in some way/shape/form, and enter the comfiest bed ever with the most beautiful purple sheets that were softer then this bunny that is currently galloping around the house I write this from in Kingston, Nova Scotia. 

Enter (somewhere on the stage) the largest lobster in Canada - don't let it's claws snap off your head!

Enter empty beaches on the New Brunswick shores of the Northumberland straight. Such a warm, and solitude-full place to spend a blissful evening on my own in contemplation. And oh the sunset...over the water, viewed from my tent. How is life so beautifully simple? and how do I always end up making it so complex? Times like these, spent all alone on Murray Beach in NB puts such things at the forefront. 

Enter (centre aisle) Prince Edward Island and the Confederation Trail - flat as a pancake, packed gravel, a good ride across island! I stayed for one night with my childhood friends Aunt and Uncle, where we enjoyed easy conversation and then cycled onwards to Belle River to stay with...

Enter (back fields!) Laurel and Emma and the honey bees, cottages on beaches, green food paint, sunshine, rain shine, pollinator exclusion tents extraordinaire, and a deepening of a connection with a sister in spirit, Laurel. Gotta love her... 

Enter (outta the sound room!) Ferry rides off  Canada's wee island province, and a beautiful, long, but easy ride over to practice sitting. Just sitting...

Enter Dorje Denma Ling and the Shambala Buddist teachings. More fantastic people enter again...from near and far, monks, Buddists, non-Buddists, spiritual shoppers, but genuinely fun and friendly people, one of which I realized really had many of the same patterns as I...
I spent the week at the centre, where I sat for 1.5 hours of mindfullness meditation and chanting in the morning, worked for 5-6 hours doing grounds maintenance with a collection of fun guys (I got to paint the yellowest picnic tables ever!!) another hour of meditation in the evening...in a very short period of time, I learned a great deal about the overwhelming business of my mind, the benefits of meditation, and and and..shit, I could write 5 blog posts on just this one week. Next scene...

Enter Organic Farms and collective housing situations and an abundance of salads. Love the folks at Four Seasons Farm. They were so generous, lived in community, and were seriously into the world cup. 

Enter (everywhere on the stage) HILLS! My that Bay of Fundy Coast is spectacular, but geez, there are some serious ups and downs! 

Enter (stage side) 7 year ago friend-leagues who find you on the side of the road, feed and house you in a comfy bed!

Enter POURING RAIN. Yep, that was all over the place on my way to Wolfville. 

Enter (centre stage please) Wolfville, brimming with good people and good energy. Really liked it! and the surrounds, they were even better. I pedalled up the 14% incline gradient to reach the Lorax Farm and community. I can't say how much I loved the beauty of the people the place the community that I found here. It caused a pain in my chest, it was too beautiful....

Enter Nova Scotian music festivals!

Enter many consecutively long bike rides. 

Next: Windhorse Farm! South Shore! Halifax! Cape Breton. 

Good Night longest day of the year. Goodnight sunshine...giver of so so so much life life life. 

Life. So much life.

Landing

I've landed, but have I fully arrived?

I've been in Fredericton now two full weeks, and it's only now that I feel like I am arriving; that is to say, it's been a whirlwind since myself, Kira and Andres arrived on train from Ontario, that only now, since I've left the Otesha team of volunteers, is my emotional self reflecting on and realizing the life shift that has just happened for me! 

Since a quick train trip, I have been fully scooped up and held in an Otesha storm of silliness, challenge, community, passion, facilitation, theatre, bike skills. It's been a journey - and I've had the pleasure of intimately getting to know another group of 14 passionate Otesha changemakers. Folks who come from across the country and beyond, who are interested in social change, who are interested in contributing to the wellness of communities, to humanity, who 'level-3' everything they do. The team did such an amazing job of their first few performances to a healthy variety of audience types, and I parted ways from them after a group of at least 20 puppets, pulled from a tickle trunk, sang me a song about Kayla in the "Otesha Jungle" (a weeeeoooooahahahweeoooummbawayyyyy!). 

Onward they cycle, to experience moments of joy, moments of beautiful human generosity, moments of utter frustration and challenge. Having been on four (!) Otesha tours myself at this point - it will likely be a transformation experience for this team... One that will shape this group in small or in very large ways. And as I felt in the fall at the West coat Tour's training week as well, I somewhat strangely don't have an impeding desire to ride along with them this time. I'm fulfilled transferring knowledge and skills to them, and facilitating their group storming, forming and norming.

Instead, what I crave, are certain qualities from the Otesha experience. Journey. Meaning. Purpose. Transformation. Development. Moments of consciousness. 
____

For as long as I can remember, I've been a person who likes to see the end of something. Who appreciates seeing a project from start to finish, who likes to work and live in places with the knowledge that it will eventually shift me, propel me, into something different. I have also had moments in my life where I have had a glimpse of timlessness - a state of total presence, where love and joy is all that I feel. Times where I've been "speechless" - moments where I've experienced great natural beauty, while ecstatically dancing, during moments of group cohesion, in my sleeping dreams, during intimate moments with lovers, during yoga practice  - these momentary gaps where the acknowledgement easily flows: Now, is all that I truly have. I know the peace, the joy, the love that this can bring, and so, I want to have more experiences just like that.

So I will follow a path that I hope will take me there. 
___

Onwards I go from here. To Carleton County in New Brunswick to WOOF on a friends farm for a while, with the dynamic duo Kira and Andres, on bicycle. Then, on my own, over to PEI and Nova Scotia. Here goes!
___

Below is a photo at the end of Otesha's East Coast Tour's Training week, you can follow their adventures on Twitter, Facebook, or their blog, Notes from the Road.

Step forward, Again: California and Spring Transition.

I just finished reading the most recent entry of the blog of a friend and fellow wanderer, traveler, poet, whom is adventuring with a one way ticket to the Southern Hemisphere, just a few days after I will be boarding a train for the east coast of Canada. He was reflecting on what 'home' is. Or where it is. Mostly, how it feels, and where within it dwells. A lot of what he wrote resonated...recognizing that home is no where physical, and that instead it is a sense of groundedness, that no matter where one wanders, home can be found with just a conscious deep breath in, and a release of energy into the universe in the form of simple breath out. That sense of groundedness '"found in the fabric of memories and relationships...[denoting a sense of] responsibility of caring for those memories, holding and beholding the love that happens around me, that sits like pools of water, or flows like the grace of a moving body". Just as he reflects, I too find myself dangerously close to a big leap of life into the 'keyless' lifestyle of travel, no physical doors to feel responsible to lock and unlock. I'm only now, one week away from departing, considering the gravity of the life shift. 

And what that gravity means, I'm not quite sure; but I do feel it's heaviness in my heart at moments, the fear that lives in that gravity, and the confusion that holds me back at moments in relationship, in pursuing a spiritual path, in pursing a 'career' path. You might be surprised to read that I feel this sense of confusion; many a person in my world has often commented that I seem to flow on my path with a great deal of certitude, and that my heart is my ultimate mentor, my ultimate guide. And most of the time, I believe this too. But there are so many other moments, where the confusion overtakes, where the options on the table seem overwhelming, where curiosity takes over my sense of satisfaction. Where the mundane becomes not good enough, and I crave...
______

I'm leaving Ottawa in a week. I've been here 15 months, and what months they have been. Often full of friendship, community, weekend outings to cabins and lakes, shared dinners with friends, exploring local social and environmental movements, taking on the Otesha programs world, and letting it dwell within me...These past 15 months have been frigid and discouraging, hot and abundant, busy and full of intimacy. They have been confusing and certain, active and developing, silly and full of sunshine...mostly, I've been supported and loved by new friends and old, have contributed countless hours to an organization that I still hold so closely to my heart, have danced, sung, gardened, fermented, cooked and eaten a whole whole bunch. It's been a happy 15 months. The satisfied smiley kind of happy. 

But even that satisfied smiley kind of happy craves to show teeth, in the big kind of over the top teethy laugh that hurts your belly, and your cheeks equally as much once it eventually subsides. I want to feel that pain in my metaphorical cheeks, and even, to feel the reverse of longing - frowns.

People keep asking me if I'm ready, if it's sunk in that I'm leaving Ottawa next week, leaving a place that has been, well, pretty damn great (achem, aside from frozen fingers on my bicycle in the winter). And I do feel ready, and excited. Certainly there will be visceral moments of despair when I am riding my bicycle alone on the East Coast, craving to be along side my friends, those that I relate to, commune with, hug and cuddle with, those that feel like home. But these moments of despair I do believe are the yang to all the beauty and yin that is community based living, physical groundedness, and attachment to physical spaces. It's good and healthy to feel that yang. It's human to experience that yang. It's scary to admit, but I'm looking forward to it.  To the next untitled chapter. To it all.

_______

Though this past winter at moments was quite frigid and a somewhat discouraging, I am so glad that I got the opportunity to not only be in cuba on my bicycle, for a week, but also got the pleasure of travelling to California with my sweetie, to venture from the big city of LA outwards to the desert, northwards to the Sequoias, and then again westwards to the wild and rugged Big Sur coast. The take away from California: this part most recently visited and the Northern Californian coast, (which I cycled along in 2011) is diversity of landscape. That's what I took away most from my 10 day sojourn to southern California. There is just such a diversity! The desert I think was the most special to me on this most recent trip. It was filled with weird and wonderful plants and animals that survive the harsh conditions of a harsh landscape. A rolling flattness that sees Joshua trees (which no doubt inspired Dr. Suess) stick starkly out of the ground, and mounds of weathered boulders that you can climb and scramble over after hallucinating the distance away that this huge mound was located. The silence in the desert was stark, I appreciated it so so much. And the loneliness that the desert created was unusual in this circumstance, as I got to be 'lonely' alongside fantastic company. Such fantastic company that didn't tire of my low level mumbles, my outbursts of song and dance, and my loud squeals in the quiet desert as I saw the huge moon rise above the the distant Sierra Nevada mountains. The sand dollar moon slowly, but noticeably, slid along the sky, bathing my face in that glorious and infatuating energy that the moon so often does...

Trouble is, with this Californian trip, is that there is always too much to sum up into one single short blog post. I could write a single lengthy post for a short moment in time during the trip, for it was so full - with emotion, with feeling, with experience, with laughter, with discomfort, with frustration, with warmth, with love, with awe. I'm so glad that this journey was a shared experience. That someone else, someone very special, was with me, during most every moment. And though each of our experiences are entirely unique as autonomous people who have our own perceptions and perspectives, we still were physically present with one another, and observed many of the same things that will be known truly only to he and I. And that, that was so wonderful. 

Here are just a couple pictures of California, that try and communicate a bit of the beauty we experienced. 

I hope you have some wonder in your coming days as spring begins to change me, change you, change the trees, and the bees...

Winter in (most parts of) Canada, etc.

That time of the year when the whip of the wind is at moments awakening, and full of vibrancy, and at others harsh and assaulting. A time of year where hot cocoa and popcorn becomes my favourite snack, and tea is consumed in copious amounts. Winter feels like a time of settling in, being somewhat satisfied and cozy, but also an anticipatory time; as the light slowly grows longer and longer after the winter solstice, the length of my dreams about the warm spring also grows, at moments, filled with doubt that this snow and ice will ever melt, and that the flora and fauna, which has been so frozen and hushed during these months, will never be able to blossom and grow into the abundance of late summer...

I have this crazy love - masked - hatred relationship with the winter in Ottawa (picture a happy snowglobe, singing a little happy tune, loving the flakes falling, covered on the outside in a green slime - this is the image that just came into my mind's eye) . And I should specify that I am particularly talking about my relationship with winter in Ottawa, as I'm certain the same relationship does not exist in all other areas/cities. These are things I absolutely love about winter in Ottawa. 
1. Hot Cocoa (the real homemade kind) 
2. Gatineau park cross country skiing! Either for the day or staying overnight in cozy cabins in the woods - both are so beautiful and so fun.
3. Feeling like a (crazy?) warrior on my bike 
4. Skating on 'the worlds largest skating rink' i.e. the Rideau canal, both for pleasure, and occasionally transportation
5. The immense appreciation of summer it invokes (seriously that has to count as a thing I love about winter) 
6. The relaxed and quiet pleasure of slowing down a bit, of being cozy, in big slippers, cuddling with a sweetie, or warming oneself by a fire
7. Warm soups and stews

Mmm yes, all nice things. In avoidance of listing off the reasons why winter is hard, and setting a very boring tone of negativity, I will instead just say, that physically - my body was not made for these temperatures. As a folk who appreciates a heck of a lot of outside time, and doesn't back down on that outside time (very much) in the winter, I just wish that blood would flow a bit better to my poor wee fingers and toes. I've tried the cayanne and ginger tricks - no benefitissimo (yup, just made that word up, and I'm diggin' it). 

So you might wonder about what I've been up to, what I've learned this winter thus far. Or maybe you don't wonder, and so, I say dear reader, you have the autonomy to click that little x and the top of your screen and stop reading this post. But if you're curious....

I'm excited. I love when life is exciting. Makes me feel more spark and zest. I'm working at Otesha currently, just passing the one year mark in the role of Programs Coordinator. And it's been a hoot, lots of fun rollercoastering for the organization, and I am now quite clear about my future work life with the organization, that fundamentally changed my worldview of this delicate planet we behold each day...

I'm in tour coordination mode, planning a tour of the Maritimes, looking after the programming for orientation week, and interviewing all applicants for tour. My contract with Otesha will end come May, when, I will adventure on bicycle once again! Not sure for how long, not sure exactly where but I will certainly start out on bike post - Otesha - training week to cycle around the Maritimes. 

I've got this pattern going on. It makes me feel a bit vulnerable to share it here - to you the unknown readership, but vulnerability helps me grow, so here I go. 
I can't maintain consistency for too long. This pattern holds true I think in a few different spheres of my life - work, living location, perhaps breaching into relationships too (that is the one that is scariest to admit and work on). Really, this pattern isn't inherently negative or positive I'd argue, it's just a bit of me that I need to acknowledge and potential work on it if I desire to change. Here's another way to put it: I feel uneasy when I am locked into anything for too long. Not sure what the root of the unease is, but I will find out some day perhaps. I feel like this world is so big, I am so big, and I want to continue to expand into this glorious universe and grow grow grow! 

Different people grow in different ways. Somehow I think that the growing that has felt most rapid and important has happened at moments when I was adventuring, or somewhere new, with someone new...

and I guess that's why I'm excited to finish work and sedentary life here in Ottawa, and spread my wings to fly once more.

Oh hey another thing 'bout this winter - I'm back in Carbon Debt! achem. That is, I went on a super fun cycling trip in Cuba with my dear friend Lindsay, and I've got another jaunt planned for some camping and hiking in California in March. I'm a lucky gal to have gotten/soon to get these mid-winter jolts of summer (though it's crazy how jolt like these journeys really are - planes are like a bit of a warp...) In interest of your time, and mine in fact, I'm not going to use this post to chat 'bout Cuba. But I will post some photos to get you imagining a wee bit about what it was like...

Stationary Stories

Dear blog readers, 

I've done the pokaroo kind of thing I always do when I live in the same place for a little while. I drop off the writing bandwagon. Why oh why does that written reflection time diminish in a sessile lifestyle? Sure, it hasn't disappeared, I still reflect in my journal from time to time, but my journal isn't filling up nearly as quickly as it does when I'm cycling around, when I'm visiting or seeing new landscapes, new people, myself in new light. And it's the written kind of reflection that I know my heart appreciates so much. The idea that I can open my mind and let it flow, free writing styles, out through my fingertips; it's just, well, theraputic. 

And so now it seems, rather then picking up a pen, for a reason that likely has to do with the fact that I'm so busy getting ready for my next work commitment (going to Vancouver to facilitate an Otesha team's orientation and training week) and I feel a (large) degree of some stress building up within me, it's like a desire for that therapy has turned into a downright need. Some days, my soul just needs to write. Maybe this is one of them. 

Oh, the dog days of summer. Why they are coined the 'dog' days, I'm not sure, but jeez, I love the heat, love feeling comfortable late at night, laying diagonally in a low hanging hammock  letting the charged up glare of the full moon spill down over my face, my bare arms and legs. Where I can spend time after dark, slowly walking back and forth between rain barrel and vegetable patch, slowly watering the plants I've babied since March. And summer for me is just so delicious - delicious to the point where I can sense the nutrition in it - like the vegetable that's grown in my yard has just more nutrients, and those nutrients somehow lend more flavour to your plate. Tonight I had one such meal. Slow fried garlic, onions and potatoes from the garden, dappled with sage from the front yard. A couple eggs from the farmers market, a rare treat they are, filled with more garlic, chard, kale and parsley from the front garden as well. And I just can't get enough of the delicate flavour of my perfectly ripe orange tomatoes - the big fruits which have finally turned from green to sunshine orange, and have managed to create the most gnarly and unique shape on top of themselves, that it's a project just to decide how you might choose to chop it. Mix those choppings with some garden basil, some balsamic, salt and olive oil, and the fresh juiciness of it all just insults your mouth and nose in the best way possible. 

Okay, enough trying to turn you on via food porn. Summer is also delicious in the energetic sense. People are out about, nearly nude in their dress, the air is thick, sexy even I'd say. It's just a sexy time of year I guess. 

I did kinda want to share a bit about what the heck I've been up to over and up here (down for some) in Ottawa. Since I wrote my last blog post (in January!) I've made a bit of a life here in Ottawa. I've done lots of cooking, gardening, preserving, fermenting, dancing, yoga, and work. Don't forget the work. Especially in recent weeks, Otesha has managed to occupy each spare moment of my brain power, and take up just slightly less of that in terms of my time. However, among this work, I could never manage to pass up the opportunity to host Couch Surfers, cycle tourists, dance dance dance, do a french course, go on a few camping trips, cycle in the Gatineaus, have plenty of board game parties, swim in the pond lots, ride to Kingston, ride to Montreal, do more yoga, go to two wonderful music festivals, share lot's with others about this crazy thing Otesha, and build some really beautiful connections with folks in Ottawa and maintain connections with folks beyond. Yep, busy, but pleasant.

It wasn't until this past month that I started to question the balance of things here for me. Balance. What a great word. is it actually practical? Probably? even possible? Balance to me really includes the things I mentioned above, but at a more spread out pace - so that the moments we need to pause, to breath it all in, aren't lost. 

On that note, my physical body needs to take pause. Take rest. Goodnight.