Alaska: June 25

My last day of working at Earth Acres Farm in Homer, Alaska. The work was hard today. Genevieve and I cleaned out the hay barn to make room for new hay. This involved raking lots of old, moldy hay onto a tarp. It also involved wearing bandanas bandit-style to avoid breathing in the dust, mold, and rotten egg smell emitting from eggs that weasels had hidden in the hay for a midnight snack. Once the barn was cleared of about 250 pounds of old hay, we drug the tarp 300 feet away to spread the seed into the horse’s winter corral.
Our other job for the day was taking down an old wire fence. This involved bushwhacking through raspberry bushes, alders, and pushki (otherwise known as cow parsnip) to wind up wire. A little known fact about pushki is that its juice, if it gets on your skin, can give you third-degree burns if the sun hits the spot it touched. It is photosensitive. Goodness, God created a wild, weird, and wacky world!
I have been so blessed by my time with the Tymraks. They are honest, real, hardworking, hospitable, fun, and socially conscious. I hope I have been a blessing, as well.

WWOOFer bandit.

It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it.

Goodbye little cabin on the bay.

My host family: Evelyn, Willie, and Genevieve. The youngest daughter, Loulou, was away for the night.

Alaska: June 24

Wingo the horse watches me work.

Today was a quiet day. I mainly just weeded the raspberry patches. I started out gung-ho, but by about 4 p.m. I was bored. There is a tedium in farm work that I did not expect. Still, overall, it is enjoyable working with my hands. And it makes food so much more delicious. I feel more satisfied when I eat after a long day of hard work. It feels like a reward, like a prize at the end of a race. I think men were made to work hard. Sometimes I fear that my chosen profession has made me join the ranks of the cubicle-bound, butt-sitting American. But I hope not. I will fight that demise.

The Midnight Sun grows some monster weeds. These dandelions were about 2 feet long!

Me and some big weeds.

Alaska: June 23

My second day of work on the farm. Today, I overslept a bit. The light is doing weird things to me. I go to bed late and sleep in. Ah well. I weeded the strawberry patches today. It was a bit tedious but still enjoyable. I only wish I could be here to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor. Willie said they could mail a can of preserves, though. I may have to take them up on that offer.
For dinner tonight, we had homemade sushi, red salmon, and bacon-wrapped scallops. And carrots. Could you get more Alaskan?! Also, with how healthy I’m eating and all the activity, I think I’ve lost 5 pounds already.
Went for a walk to Yule’s Point above the farm. It overlooks the bay and offers quite the sights. I walked home by myself and found myself worrying about bears again. I’m not afraid, but it definitely feels weird to know it is VERY possible to meet one.

Weeding the strawberry patches.

Fresh caught red salmon.

Homemade sushi.

The view of Kachemak Bay from Yule's Point.

Flowers on Yule's Point.

Alaska: June 22

My first day of working on the farm. I dug giant weeds out of the horse pasture with a hoe. I also used a hand saw to hack down elderberry trees in another horse pasture. We did this so the horses would be able to see their perimeters clearly and not hurt themselves if they should ever bolt. One thing that could make them bolt: bears. It is crazy how much of a reality bears are here. Also, moose are a problem. This morning, a sow and her kid bolted down the hill and through one of the fences.

While digging weeds out of the ground, I saw about 700 spiders scurrying here and there. Not kidding. Seven hundred. But I don't think I got even one spider bite. Maybe they are not so bad after all.

I enjoyed the work very much. Again, there was such simplicity in working with my hands beneath the sun, with a view of the water and mountains all around. I also rode Wingo, the old white horse. Beau, a bay horse, ate my fruit snacks right out of my jacket pocket. And we are all waiting for Red Moon to deliver her foal. It would be so neat to be here for that!!

The view of Earth Acres Farm from my porch.

Genevieve and Loulou with Beau and Wingo.

Horses.

I'm on a horse. (Old Spice tribute)

A horse and his girl.

Alaska: June 21

Summer solstice! Longest day of the year! Let’s talk about the light here. It is even weirder than I imagined. It’s almost indescribable. For instance, it is nearly midnight right now, and I can still see everything outside my window. Everything. It looks like it is 6 p.m. still. It really never gets dark. When I wake up at 3 in the morning, I can still see the mountains and trees. It is just dusky.
Josh dropped me off at the Homer Stageline bus station at 7:30 a.m. It was in an industrial, ghetto looking area, but the receptionist was nice. After a couple hours some more people showed up. One girl named Annie was also WWOOFing in Homer. She was from San Francisco. I must say it was nice to talk with a fellow novice about our uncertainties about just showing up on a random farm and working. There was also a guy named Tim. He grew up in Anchorage but now works at REI in Denver. Small world.
The bus ride was…long. We had to swing down to Seward on the way, which adds about 2 hours, but overall it was good. The fellow passengers made it interesting. Chuck brought his blue heeler dog; Geraldine had the most hair I’ve ever seen on a head and was a bit crazy; Meryl was from Hawaii and on vacation; Zach was a commercial fisherman on his way to Halibut Cove to work for the summer as a sandman. The drive, though long, was peaceful. Nick, our driver, played classical music that made quiet introspection easy. THE MOUNTAINS! Everywhere you look is so beautiful. I feel my heart expanding into all the raw wilderness.
Willie picked me up from the bus station. He looks like a farmer: jeans, boots, suspenders, scruffy beard. We went to SaveUMore, one of the local grocery stores, and met Evelyn there. The girls, Lou Lou, who is 12, and Genevieve, who is 15, were also there. I went with the ladies to Evelyn’s sister’s house. Sue has a dry cabin northwest of town. There, I also met Ev’s parents, Hank and Marietta, and her other sister Louise. Marietta is French-Canadian and has a thick accent. We had a great dinner and then went back to Earth Acre’s farm where I saw my little cabin.
My cabin is also a dry cabin, so I have no running water. I use an outhouse about 40 feet up the mountain and use a jug of water to brush my teeth, make my coffee and wash my face. It is cozy, though. And simple. With no internet and a view of the Kenai Mountains and the Katchemak Bay out my window, I am forced to slow down. This is good. I had not realized how incredibly addicted to the internet I had become. I really don’t need to be “connected” at all times. I hope I take that lesson home with me.

A sign at the Seward, Alaska, visitor's center. That's a long way.

Dinner with my Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) host family, plus a few extras.

My little cabin in Homer, Alaska.

The view of Katchemak Bay from my little cabin in Homer, Alaska.

Alaska: June 20

Fishing for Red Salmon in the Russian River! We got up early and drove down to where the Russian River meets the Kenai River on the Peninsula. We took a ferry across ($11.25 EACH!) and walked downriver 2-3 miles. Josh fished while I took photos. The sun came out mid-day, and it was really nice. I got a big kick out of carrying bear spray. We didn’t see any bears, but there is something…thrilling…about knowing you could see one at any time because they are really common.
The fishing was pretty crazy. People could only fish below where the ferry crossed the river. If the fish made it upstream past the cable, they were home free. People fished almost shoulder to shoulder. Lines got tangled often, but people were landing 20-pound salmon left and right.
We went further down so it was less crowded. We actually met a guy on the trail who said he was surprised we’d walked as far down as we did. He said most people are too scared of bears to walk so far into the wilderness. HA. Guess we’re fearless. And we had bear spray.
Josh only had a few bites most the day. But once we started walking back, he got into the thick of a line of fisherman and snagged four salmon in about an hour. What a fisherman! I'm looking forward to my turn next weekend! Watch out fish; here I come...

The view on our way down to fish the Kenai River.

The Russian River Ferry.

Fishermen in their fishing waders.

Combat fishing.

Bear combat. Made in Kalispell.

Harried mother duck and ducklings.

Bluebells on the Kenai River.

Josh landing his first Alaskan salmon.

Me. In Alaska.

Alaska: June 19

Am I tough enough for Alaska?


* That’s all I wrote that day. I think it was prompted mostly by being tired. The day was good. My friend and I slept in and had an easy going morning. I made pancakes. Then we went downtown Anchorage and enjoyed some summer solstice festivities. We watched people fish in the Slammin’ Salmon fishing derby. We ate reindeer hot dogs and watched a boring show about bears at the visitor’s center. That night, we ate at a burger joint Josh likes. After dinner, we went for a walk. It was a lovely walk, but my shoes got soaked, which frustrated me because my old Tevas would have been fine. (I sent my Teva shoes to the factory to be repaired, and someone at the factory lost them. I had to buy new shoes days before coming to Alaska. They weren't really broken in and they only kind of fit because I couldn't find anything small enough in Kalispell.) I think that is what prompted my journal entry. I was so upset about my wet shoes I wondered if I could really handle Alaska. It was all silly, really, but that’s what I was feeling.

Alaska: June 18

* Editor's note: Because it takes an awful lot of brainpower to both journal daily and write a consistent blog, I will usually share excerpts from my journal here. If the title is simply a date, it is a journal entry. If it is something more creative, it is an "official" blog post. Happy reading. *

I am not really sure what it is that has called me to Alaska from the long gone days of my childhood, but I do know I am glad to finally be answering the call today. I land in Anchorage in about two hours!


I go for adventure. I go to see. I go to live a good story.

Muses, thou art hilarious

I am writing from Alaska! The Last Frontier. My 47th state in my quest to hit all 50. I have been here a week, but this is the first time I've had internet access for a long enough stretch of time to post to the ol' blog.

I honestly don't even know where to start. And that's kind of funny because I'm writing from Homer, which I've dreamed of visiting for years due to its reputation as a writer's and artist's haven. It is supposed to be a place where muses dance on the dusty floors of your brain until they are smooth and polished again and the dance flitters from brain to fingers, producing eloquent prose and masterful paintbrush strokes. Instead, I have writer's block. HA. Muses, thou art hilarious...

What you did not know, oh Muses, is that I have kept a daily journal since my arrival. Now step aside and let the writing begin!

Countdowns are confusing

I am a word person. Not a number person. Thus, I've never quite known how the countdown works. Do you say the day of a big event is the last day, or is it day zero? And, if the event is at the end of the day, do you then count that day cause you have to wait through it? Or is it still day zero, even though you do have to wait?

Anyway, I have either one or two days until I leave for Alaska! I don't leave the 17th. I do leave the 18th...but it's at the end of the day, so...

Gah! Let's just say I'm excited! And I'll do my best to keep blogging from the Last Frontier.

A key

You all may need to sit down for this news. Okay...good...are you comfortable? Here goes...

I, believe it or not, have in my possession a small metal key. And that key, believe it or not, opens the door to my very own apartment. Whew. Yeah, I know, I never thought it would happen, either. It was looking like the hobo life would be mine for ages to come.

But it has happened!! As long as I pay my rent each month, I can now call a tiny little piece of Montana my own. And I do mean tiny. The studio is about 350 square feet, but I absolutely love it. It is downtown K-town...just blocks from the post office, the grocery store, the library, and, get this, FOUR coffee shops. FOUR!! It's like coffee shop lover's heaven.

I honestly had no idea this normal little piece of life (which I've experienced before) would make me so happy. I mean, it's just an apartment. But it represents so much more. It represents commitment and a feeling of being settled and a sense of normalcy. I have LOVED my crazy wandering life these last two years, but I am very much looking forward to staying still...even if it's just for a while.

Actually this reminds me of a debate my friends and I have had. We always wondered if it's best to find a place you love and get any job you can to live there. Or is it better to get that dream job and live in...well, Huston. Or Atlanta. Or Miami. Or any big city in the south really, any city you could never, ever see yourself enjoying. Obviously, it's best if you fall somewhere in the middle, but, I must say, I'm ready to work about anywhere to live here. I feel like I'm home.

Sweet home.

Quiet exuberance

I often feel exuberance on the inside but have a hard time expressing it on the outside. This is something I wish I could change about myself. Either that, or I wish people would learn how to read my quiet smiles so I wouldn't seem so aloof.

The Wylds premiere

The moment I wrote the title of this post, I realized I've been pretty vague about what in the world I've been up to the last five months of my life. So, for any of you readers who don't know what my job actually is, I'll give a brief synopsis.

I am a bonified writer: penniless, homeless, addicted to coffee, and completely happy.

This is how it happened: Back in November, when I was working for Operation Christmas Child in Denver, my brother called with an interesting proposition. He wanted to know if I'd be interested in moving to Montana to write a couple books based on his most recent movie. I thought about it for a few days and called back to say, resoundingly, YES! Things came together, and, come January, I was ranch-sitting for my sister-in-law's parents and writing full time. When the ranch-sitting gig came to a close in March, another opened up. My days consisted of hauling hay, feeding five horses, caring for three dogs, and continued writing and editing.

As of yesterday, I finished the fourth -- and final -- draft of the junior novel. The children's book is currently being illustrated by my very talented sister-in-law and will need just a few revisions over the next couple weeks.

So what, exactly, are these books, these 40,000 words, about? When can you read them? And did I say there's a movie, too?

Good questions! Let me start with the movie because that's really the most important thing. My brother wrote, directed, and edited a feature-length family film based on John Bunyan's "The Pilgrim's Progress." It is called, "The Wylds," and it is awesome!

Set in a post-apocalyptic future, the film follows Chris, a runaway boy, and his friend, Faith, as they journey from a life of thievery in the City of Destruction to Celestial City to find Chris' father and a better life. Along the way, they meet a slough of crazy characters and must overcome all kinds of obstacles, including a bog monster, mutant bugs, lava rivers, giant robots, and a video game city that appears to satisfy a kid's every desire. Ultimately, this Oliver-Twist-meets-the-prodigal-son tale is about discovering just how hard it is to stay on the right path in life.

The movie has an official release date of August 31, 2010, through Word Entertainment. I encourage each and every one of you to buy a DVD (or ten!) and check out this fantastic film.

As for the books: They, too, will be released through Word Entertainment in mid- or late-September. We are still working on specifics but expect to be able to buy them at Barnes and Noble and your local Christian bookseller. The junior novel is aimed at 8 to 12 year olds, and the kid's book is for those aged 3 to 7. I am really pleased with how they turned out, and I look forward to sharing them with the world. 

For more information and updates on the progress of the movie and books, please visit http://www.thewylds.com/ and "The Wylds" blog at http://www.pilgrimproductions.blogspot.com/. I'll do my best to keep you posted here, too.

And now, on to some photos from the premiere of "The Wylds," held June 4, 2010, at the Liberty Theater in Kalispell, Montana.

Me, Andy, Marianne, Jim, and Ryan heading into the theater. Marianne, Jim, and Ryan all worked on special effects for the movie.

Andy introducing the movie.

Me and my folks waiting for the show to begin.

Cast and crew who were able to make it for the big night. We had folks come from L.A., Portland, Salt Lake City and Wyoming.

Home part deux

Home is landing.

Home is getting flowers at the airport.

Home is where the home fires keep burning.

Home is barbecues with the greatest friends a girl could ask for.

Home is good food.

Home is weddings. (Congrats Liz, my good friend and mom-of-the-bride!)

Home is babies. (Welcome to the world baby Lane!)

Home is where you send others off on grand adventures. (Praying you find your home on the road, Josh. Thanks for visiting us!)

Home is...

Home

I must admit the idea of home has morphed for me over the last year. I mean, home in the traditional sense is where my parents are, but even that location is soon to change as my folks move this summer. It is likely that the next time I go "home," it will be to a room I've never seen and a town where my friends are not. Even so, I don't think I will painstakingly say I'm going to my "parent's house." I'll still say I'm going home.

So, what is home? And is it really such a solid concept as I've always believed?

In one year, I've called six places home. And in the past two years, I've slept in nearly 30 beds, not counting hotel rooms and a couple random floors. Were all those beds home?

If home is defined as where the heart is, the answer to that question is no...and yes. It depends on how you define heart.

If you define heart as solely a deep love for the people in the house you're calling home, then all those beds were not home.

But if you define heart as hopes, dreams, prayers, memories, peace, and feeling alive, then those beds were home.

I've often said I feel most at home on the road. I think part of the reason I say that is because my heart loves the freedom and adventure of travel. When I'm out and about -- be it thousands of miles from America or one mile from my house as I drink coffee and read in a coffee shop -- I can feel my heart expanding with each beat. I love the sights and sounds and smells that are different from those in whatever house I'm currently living. In that way, all those beds were home because they were new and different, and my heart loved it.

At the same time, I'm human. I long for stability almost as much as I long for the open road. I am giddy excited for the day I get to unpack all the stuff I've had packed away for two years. It'll be like Christmas to unwrap mugs I've forgotten and books that comfort me with their very presence on my shelves.

Still, I do not believe home is where your stuff is. Unpacking will simply be a perk to finding a house in which to stay a while. That house will not be home until I put some heart in it. And just how do I do that?

I dream about grand adventures.
I relive good memories with good people.
I find rest and peace.
I pray. 

And I call my mom.