New School

Last night we went to Bickleton School District's Open House of their new school building. It was pretty neat. A lot more technology than I had in school. And though I've only seen the gym of the old school, everyone around us was commenting on how nice the new place was. The building seemed small to me for a K-12, but the rooms and hallways were spacious.

And I counted desks in a few places. The 3rd/4th grade classroom had 16 students. And the Kindergarten class had three tables that could comfortably fit three students each--but there were only four names for students in that class. My mother-in-law would have been so jealous to see a Kindergarten class of four students--her Kindergarten classes are always overcrowded. And can you imagine the one-on-one teaching you could do with only four students? My favorite thing about the Kindergarten classroom was the papers outside the classroom: "My name is Clayton and I like to ride my tractor at home with my cowboy hat."

A few people we knew there told our two year old daughter that they hoped we'd be around long enough to go to that school. Our landlord frequently tells me about how great the school is here and how so many students excel there. Looking at the elementary school classrooms, it's tempting. But not tempting enough to overcome the things I don't like about living here.

And to be honest, the high school doesn't really tempt me. Sure there are still small classes, a lot of one-on-one attention to help the students, and I especially liked how one classroom was set up in a way I only experienced in small college classes where I gained the most. But there is one foreign language option. They have a great music room, but I've only heard about band, not choir here. (My husband and I were both in choir in high school, and I'd like my children to at least have the option.) And I think they offer three sports: track, volleyball, and basketball. I'd like my children to have more extracurricular options open to them. And if they join a track or basketball team, I want it to be because they genuinely enjoy the sport, not just because there's nothing else to do.

Two Sightings

Today as I drove back to Bickleton from the valley, I could have sworn that I saw a porcupine. But I didn't know if that was possible out here. Turns out our neighbors told my husband that they had seen a couple of them, so I was not seeing things.

And bad news for me: the early morning brought the return of the fog. I didn't like the cold or the snow or the ice last year, but it was the fog that got to me. Two weeks ago was had some really hot weather. But the cold has come in with a vengeance--and I believe it's here to stay.

The Boonies

On Saturday we took a family walk to the post office. As we left, we passed an old lady sitting in her car. She smiled at my daughter riding in her all-terrain wagon with a cover, as all older people do.

***

Old Lady: I like your covered wagon.

Hubby: Thanks. We figured that since we live in the boonies, we might as well act like it.

Old Lady: This isn't the boonies.

***

Ummm, what? Turns out she lives in nearby Cleveland which has a population of 17. I guess our town of almost 100 feels a little crowded to her.

Bickleton Birds

Bickleton has a surprising amount of birds for the lack of trees here. It not only has bluebirds, but robins and lots of other birds that I can’t name. They even come in some bright colors like yellow, orange, and purple, which really surprised me for this area. We enjoy watching the birds, and a pair just built a nest right outside our door so we get an even closer view of them than before.

My two year old daughter loves having so many birds around. She gets excited when she sees them and tells me that the birds sing and fly and eat. And more recently, when we’re playing outside, she looks for birds and then leans forward and yells “BIRDS! BIRDS! BIRDS!” at them for no reason that I can see, but she is always very pleased with herself afterward.

The birds in Bickleton are abundant and beautiful. But to be honest, they are not that smart. These birds do not move out of the way of a moving vehicle. In fact, they fly off the side of the road, into the path of the car, and then panic. My husband and I have both killed more birds with the car than I care to think about.

One day a few weeks ago I was sitting in the living room when two birds slammed into our large front window in quick succession. Yes, it’s a big window, but there are no windows beyond it and though I’ve had every intention of cleaning these windows inside and out, it hasn’t gone beyond thinking about it. A few days later the birds started flying into all of our windows—even when the blinds and curtains are closed!

Seriously, what is wrong with these birds? Are they suicidal or just stupid? It gives a fresh understanding of the term “bird brain” for me.

Patriotic Pig Roast

One of the annual community events in Bickleton is a 4th of July Patriotic Pig Roast.

They roast a large pig and everyone in the community brings something for the potluck meal.

We arrived to the sound of a Christian family band--mom played the keyboard, dad was on a bass cello, the only son played guitar, and three girls in matching hand-sewn jumpers all played the violin.

After the local pastor welcomed us and prayed over the food, we dug in to the delicious pork and potluck dishes of varying deliciousness (or not).

They recognized all the veterans in the community and four of them spoke about what serving their country meant to them. We all sang along to The Star Spangled Banner and My Country 'Tis of Thee.

This is one of the times when it's a benefit to be part of a very small community.

In a Town This Small

"In a town this small, you just have to get used to the fact that everyone knows what color of underwear you put on in the morning, and then get on with your day." - owner of the local market/cafe

Outside Our Window

We have a large window in our living room that faces the street. The view leaves something to be desired, in my opinion, but more goes on outside our window than you might expect. And all of it serves to entertain my toddler.

She now thinks that all pick up trucks have dogs in the back of them, and around here, she's usually right.

We get to see horses and their riders taking walks down the road. This helped her learn the word "horse"--she used to moo when she saw horses.

Now that the (sort of) warmer months are here, we get a lot of biker gangs taking road trips that pass through Bickleton. My daughter loves these. She gets really excited and says, "bike! bike!" Thankfully they usually come in groups, so she gets to see a few at a time.

The local school doesn't have a track field, though track is one of the few sports here, so they run down our street. She gets really excited and says "run, run, run!" while she runs in place.

The Possibility of Ice Cream

It's a struggle to buy dairy and meats when it is at least an hour from the store to your freezer. And that doesn't count the time between putting it in your cart and buying it. Even with a cooler or cold bags, frozen foods rarely stay frozen. I've tried buying ice cream a couple of times, but even in the winter, the top layer was melty by the time we got home. I thought buying ice cream in summer months, when we want it most, was going to be impossible.

The local cafe has ice cream by the scoop. When I bought some to share with my daughter today, I commented on how hard it is to get ice cream out here to the cafe owner and she revealed the secret of how Bickletonites get their ice cream fix: The Schwann's man.

Much like the bookmobile, every two weeks we have the possibility of access to town luxuries like library books and ice cream. I never thought I'd order Schwann's because I know it's more expensive. But I'd rather pay $5 for a half gallon of ice cream that I actually get to eat than $3 for one that melts all over my car.

Mmmmmm. Ice cream.

More Postal Shenanigans

So last week we got a bill for our "free" post office box. We were told that we got it free because we weren't on the mail route. I was hoping the bill was a mistake. Today I made an extra effort to walk to the post office to talk to the lady who works there despite the fact that the morning sunshine was quickly turning into threatening clouds.

Funny story, we are on the mail route. All we have to do is put up a mail box. Most frustrating is that we could have done that when we moved in and then had mail delivered to our house. Seriously? All the drama and issues that have surrounded the simple act of getting the mail was all unnecessary? Grrr.

Colors

One of my complaints about Bickleton in spring, besides the fact that spring apparently never comes to Bickleton, is the lack of colors. There are few flowers--because of the deer, most people don't even try to plant around here. And there are no blossoming trees, which I sorely miss about Portland springs.

My wonderful husband brought home some color--a bouquet of flowers. Which is quite a feat in a town where no flowers are sold.

But yesterday the drizzling spring day found a way to bring a little color to the beige landscape.





Scenes from the Road

One morning we drove by the corner ranch at just the right time. One man was driving a pick up slowly along the fence while another stood on the trailer behind and threw bales of hay to feed the cows. Dozens of lumbering cows and stumbling calves rand down the hillside for their breakfast. A small calf was nestled on a bale of hay at the feet of the rancher on the trailer and another one stood outside the fence on the roadside and stared at us as we drove by.

This is one of the scenes that I am both afraid my daughter will forget (in the scenario in which we actually get to live in civilization again) and that she will not pay any attention to one day (in the scenario in which this becomes an ordinary scene in her life).

Gun Toting

My family is surprised at how conservative our community is. I think that like many people, they think Seattle when they hear Washington. Well, we might as well be a million miles away from Seattle.

We've been assured that if anything "went down" in this area, we'd be completely safe and protected because the population is armed to the teeth. I always wonder what they think is going to happen in rural Washington. Are they worried about a hostile take over? In a county with more cows than people, I don't think we'd garner much attention from any invading party.

On Sunday as we drove home from church, we passed a man standing on the side of the road. He fit right into the landscape--scruffy, camo jacket, beat up hat, with a dirty pick up as his backdrop. And he was holding a gun.

It is one thing to hear about all the guns that people around here own. It is another to see them out on our roads and in the middle of our lives.

Tea Time

Side Note: Someone forgot to tell Bickleton that yesterday was the first day of spring. It snowed.


On Saturday I went to the annual Bickleton Ladies' Tea. I was sorely tempted to pretend to forget it was happening--mostly because I had no idea what to expect from it. But not much happens in Bickleton, so it's a shame to miss anything.

I got there late, so I only saw the end of the spring fashion show. A shop in Sunnyside provided clothes and accessories and the girls from Bickleton High School were the models. There were door prizes handed out throughout the event.

We ate something with rice and unidentifiable veggies glued together with cream of chicken soup and topped with sliced almonds. There was also an orange jello fruit salad type of thing. The dessert was actually really good and pretty though. It was whipped cream, cream cheese, and raspberries mixed together and put in pretty little glasses with a raspberry and a mint leaf on top.

The theme was "Pretties, Pearls, and Posies." But also somehow it was clown themed. (The speaker was a clown--more about that next.) The napkin holders were clown noses, there were colorful balloons all over, and the centerpieces were surprisingly cute and clever. Balloons that weren't blown up had wire put inside them to shape them like petals and leaves and then made into flowers and put in arrangements in colorful planters.

The clown who spoke to us goes around the world and performs on the street after disasters (9/11, Katrina, etc.) and in hospitals and orphanages. Now I'm not one of those people who completely freak out at the sight of clowns, but they do creep me out just a little. Especially when they come up behind me and start dusting me off with a feather duster. In fact, it would creep me out if anyone did that.

The clown spoke about friendship, had a few jokes and tricks, and we all sang songs together. (Think soundtrack to "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou" and you'll know some of the songs we sang.)

It was completely out of my comfort zone, but it was a new experience. I hope that we're not still here in a year, but if we are, I will be going to the annual Bickleton Ladies' Tea again.

Our Street

My husband grew up in a town called Boring, and yes, it's boring. But it's nothing compared to our town and street here.

Yesterday I looked up and saw the school's track team running down the street. I opened our front blinds and called my daughter over. She had a great time watching the kids run by.

And that is the most exciting thing we've ever seen on our street.

Another Walk

The little red wagon is back in working order. It wasn't too cold out and the wind wasn't howling, so we ventured to town to get the mail.

As I walked down the silent street I pondered why someone would choose to live here. Yes, I live here, but I didn't really choose it. I think many people choose to live here precisely for one of the reasons I don't like it: nothing happens here. It's quiet and sleepy and distraction-free. This also explains why most of the population seems to be over 60 years old.

On the way home, I had to correct myself about the nothing happens. The stupid yappy neighbor dog got out of its yard and chased us. I don't like strange dogs anyway, but our other neighbor had mentioned that they didn't trust that dog, so I had already worried about the possibility of it getting out. It eventually stopped coming after us, but not after getting my adrenaline up and preparing to kick it if it came anywhere near my child (sorry animal lovers, anything threatening my child is going to get a kick).

I sincerely hope the stupid dog doesn't get out again. Because if it does we're going to have to talk to the owner. I've only met his daughter and she was old, so this guy must be ancient and I think practically house-bound. But I also can't be made to feel like I can't safely leave my own house. Especially when walking to the post office is the only thing there is to do here.

On a lighter note, before the dog incident we stopped and admired a patch of snowdrops growing on the side of the road. My daughter even thought they were pretty enough to eat.



Our Little Red Wagon

Today I deemed it warm enough to walk to the Post Office. It was the third time we’ve been able to take out our new Radio Flyer All Terrain Wagon. And there’s only been a handful of other times we’ve been able to walk to town since we moved here months ago. Stupid winter.

Well, just over 40 degrees out, only a light wind. I convinced my daughter to put on pants so we could bundle up the rest of the way and head outside. She loves playing outside—and every time we go outside she tries to walk down the road. So a trip walking to town? Tons of fun. She gets to ride and look at the birds while I pull the wagon.

I don’t know if it will be any different in the spring and summer, but when we walk down to the heart of Bickleton, it feels a bit like a ghost town. There are houses and buildings but absolutely no people out. There’s nothing to listen to but the occasional dog barking at you and the jingle jangle of the wagon riding over gravel and poorly patched pavement.

And then, I heard a new sound. The light tinkle of a bunch of little metal pieces falling off the wagon onto the road. I stopped and turned around to watch the front of the wagon slide off the axle and rest on the ground. And my daughter looking at me wondering why we had stopped.

What do you do with a young toddler and a broken wagon a quarter of a mile from home? After a moment of hoping that maybe this wasn’t actually happening, I took my daughter out of the wagon in case it fell more. Then I grabbed the pieces of the wagon and pulled it all to the side of the road. We were right next to the tavern so I hung the blankets that had lined the wagon over a horizontal wooden rail that probably was used to tie up horses a century or so ago.

Long story short, I did not have the tools to properly reattached the front axel and wheels, but I got it just enough so it could limp along without me having to toss the handle and front wheels in and pull it along on its back wheels, making it so my daughter would have to walk the rest of the way home—which was my back up plan. I did this while intermittently yelling out to my daughter to stay close to Mommy. Not because there was any real fear of cars coming by, but it’s a good habit to learn not to run into the road. And if I’d let her run free, I’m pretty sure she would have been to the other end of town before I finished putting the wagon more or less back together.

We walked to the Post Office, said hello to the lady who works there, and headed for home. My daughter was content to walk home instead of ride, but what she really wanted to do was stay outside indefinitely and run wild down the side streets of Bickleton. So then I carried her. And eventually put her kicking and fighting back into the wagon. Our walk home was much longer because I had to stop every few yards to retighten the nut/bolt thing that was keeping the whole thing precariously together. (Eli will have to use his Daddy skills when he comes home to rebuild the front of the wagon.)

And thus begins a spring and summer full of frequent walks to and from town.

Disclaimer: I love our all terrain wagon, despite it falling to pieces. Can you imagine what the roads would have done to a cheaper wagon? Plus it pulls quite easily through gravel, mud, slush, and snow.

Driving

We do lots of driving out here.

In good weather it's 45 minutes to church.
45 minutes to a gas station.
45 minutes to a grocery store.
45 minutes to a library.
1.5 hours to a bookstore.
1.5 hours to the doctor's office.

That's a long drive with a sick child (and a sleep deprived parent who's been taking care of a sick child).

There are a few good things about the long drives. We encounter very little, if any traffic. The road up to Bickleton used to be gravel and was paved only a few months before we moved here. And the long drives let me see something besides the view outside my window. I don't really like the views in Bickleton itself, but there are many areas close by with lovely views of trees, mountains, the Columbia River, fruit orchards, green fields, and wind turbines.

The Return of Winter?

A couple days after we returned from our trip, it looked like winter had returned to Bickleton. But then the snow melted. And then it snowed. And then it melted. All day long.

The last couple of days have been dry but cold. Give me one or the other. Either really snow and stick and give us something beautiful to look at and play in. Or warm up already so I can go outside, walk to the post office, and use our new wagon.

As it is, we're stuck inside all day every day with nothing but a dry, blah landscape to look at.

Where Nobody Knows Your Name

We took a trip to our old stomping grounds this week--Portland, Oregon. I've definitely missed the landscape and the family and friends we have here. It's nice to be surrounded by the familiar.

But it's also nice to go out to the store or go out to eat and be completely anonymous. Nobody knows you, nobody looks twice at you, nobody comments about watching you walk down the street earlier in the day (note to self: do not scratch your butt when walking down a street in Bickleton, you are most likely being watched).

I'm not a hugely social person, so it's nice to go out and not have to make conversation with every person I pass. My husband on the other hand is one of the friendliest people I know and he loves the fact that you talk to everyone you see and wave to every car driving by in the tiny town of Bickleton.

Coyotes

We have only seen one coyote since we moved here, but we’ve heard of and heard many more.

A few weeks ago our neighbor invited us to bring our daughter up to see their kittens. She adores cats so we took him up on the offer and got to see the cute little kittens (well, cute until they started attacking my leg). They were living in a sort of mud room between the garage and the house. Our neighbor said that they are going on a trip in February and when they get back the two sweet little kitties will be neutered and put out in the barn. (Cats earn their keep around here by keeping down the mice.) And then he said that he just hoped the coyotes wouldn’t get them.

*****

Last week my daughter started turning on the baby monitor that was hanging over her crib, which made it hard to hear her crying on the other side of the hall, especially when we’re sleeping. So we moved the monitor out of her reach so we would always be sure to hear her crying in the night.

Last night as we were trying to go to sleep, I thought I heard crying in the distance, but I couldn’t hear it on the monitor. I finally jumped up to check on my daughter when my husband figured out what we were hearing: coyotes.

A Taste from Home

Every winter when I get a little blah, I start to get homesick. And just as that was hitting me, I got a package from my sister in Utah filled with Stephen's hot cocoa.

I've heard people question aloud why Utahns are obsessed with Stephen's hot cocoa. I'll tell you: because it's delicious. If I search I can usually find Milk Chocolate and Chocolate Mint Truffle in my stores, and if I'm vigilant I might find Belgian Dark Chocolate. But that Cherry Chocolate I've been drooling over? Definitely not. Toss in some White Chocolate and some Caramel Apple Cider and I'm set. I will survive the winter one warm and tasty cup at a time.

Where We Are

There is always the anticipation
of the change, the chance that what is wrong
is the result of where you are.

from "Where We Are" by Gerald Locklin

The Wind Economy

This video is about the town of 3,000+ that is about an hour away from us, but the story is similar throughout the region and for Bickleton itself. Small town, lost jobs, farms barely scraping by, and then the wind industry appears and revitalizes the job market and the community. The thing they once cursed, high winds, has become a blessing to their economy.

Names

Bickleton was named after Charles Bickle and his wife Fanny Bacon Bickle (that woman just had no luck with names). Bickleton is in Klickitat County.

Road names are not very inventive out here: Cemetery Road has a cemetery on it. Dot Road leads down to Highway 14 and east of Dot Road there is East Road—in between the two, you could choose to take Middle Road. But Middle Road isn’t paved, so I don’t recommend it. The town leading through the middle of the town is called Market Road—the local market is on it.

Place names are a little more original than the road names. There’s the Bluebird Inn, the Hen’s Nest, Lazy A Ranch, the Honey Do Ache’rs, and the Whoop-n-Holler Museum.

Even many of the people have countrified names, names that I’ve only read in books. The men are mostly named Bob and Earl and Bob. I’ve met women with names that I’ve only seen in books: Nelda and Wilma and Irma. And some I’ve never even heard of like Delma and Lovina.

All the place names fascinate me, but some of the local pronunciations makes the grammarian in me shudder. Creek is crick, turbine is turbin, and I’ve heard tortillas with the “L” sound pronounced.

The View from My Window

Reminders

The last few days have been a loud reminder of why we live here: the wind. We've spent the last two nights listening to the wind howl instead of sleeping. Every morning I get up expecting to see trees downed and branches covering the lawns--that's what would happen in Portland with all its tall old trees. But all the wind brings here is tumbleweeds.

I am also even more grateful that we are living in a solid brick house instead of a mobile home, or even RV, like many people out here do. The wind might keep me awake, but I don't have to worry about my house blowing over. That third little pig knew what he was doing.

Emilee's Choice

We’re going shopping today. A big shopping trip. If we drive about an hour, we can find a Super Walmart and a Safeway. Unfortunately, the Super Walmart isn’t that super. Much of their shelf space caters to their regular clientele, which is not me because I don’t eat a lot of Hispanic foods. Their produce section is appalling. What kind of store caters to the Hispanic population but doesn’t carry fresh cilantro? On one fateful trip, the Safeway was out of cilantro and I was out of luck.

But today we’re driving an hour and a half to the Tri-Cities, specifically Kennewick, where we can find all the familiar and comforting stores that I’m used to shopping in. They have our bank, so we can do some banking. And they have a mall, a Costco (a necessity when you live this far away from civilization), a Target (oh, how I’ve missed you Target), and a Winco. They even have a Walmart and a Safeway and hardware stores and probably anything else we might want. The Tri-Cities area is home to more than 200,000 people, which didn’t used to sound big, but is approximately 2,000x as big as where I live, so it’s pretty amazing.

The drive is hard on my little girl. She usually naps on the way home, but that is hours past her naptime, so she’s tired and cranky and often inconsolable by that time. I hold onto my secret weapon snack, mini marshmallows, until she’s wailing in the last store. The drive there also isn’t too fun. She does pretty good for a while, but an hour and a half is just a long time for a toddler to be strapped into a car seat. I feel bad, but there’s no helping it. My child needs diapers so my child has to sit through long drives to get those diapers.

Speaking of tired and cranky, that’s a long drive and a lot of stores for an adult to get through too. We have at least four stops today, not including lunch and gas. It would be impossible with one parent, but by the end of the trip, two parents have to watch themselves so they don’t start snapping at each other. And I know we both wish that we could be the ones napping on the drive home.

Did I mention that I love Target? When I lived in Utah I only went to Target when I couldn’t find something at Walmart because the Target was so much farther away (ten minutes seems insignificant now). But then I moved to southwest Portland and the closest Walmart was a good half an hour longer drive than it was to a Target.

Why hadn’t anyone told me how much better Target is than Walmart? Often cheaper, sometimes a few cents more expensive, but the atmosphere is well worth a few cents here and there. And once I had a baby, I fell even more in love with Target, especially their clearance racks. I’ve gotten baby clothes for under a dollar on many occasions. Sometimes I paid two or three, and the only things I haven’t had to wait for clearance on are shoes and winter coats—which are still reasonably priced and cute too. So yes, I miss Target. It’s familiar and comforting and it doesn’t matter where you are, if you find a Target, you know what to expect. (It’s really quite funny seeing this ode to shopping come out of me, I normally hate shopping, but I don’t hate shopping at Target.)

My husband’s work commute is twenty minutes or under. Most of his co-workers have a commute of more than an hour. It’s not only nice for him, but a blessing for us because if he had an hour commute, we really wouldn’t see him on his ten-hour work days. I would have to keep our daughter up past her bedtime just to see Daddy during the week.

But living up here is not without its sacrifices. One of the biggest being that it is a huge production to go shopping and I can rarely do it alone. When he got the job up here, we knew there would be sacrifices wherever we chose to live. When we decided to live in Bickleton, it was a decision between my husband and shopping. I chose my husband. I’ve teased him that if there had been a closer Target, it might have been another matter. But I know that I still would have chosen him over amazing clearance racks.

(I love you, honey.)

Solitude

This week I saw a total of three people: my daughter, my husband, and the girl working at the post office. That last one was only because we had a package to pick up.

I have had a hard time adjusting to the long days alone with a toddler. I used to break up the days by going shopping, visiting the library, going to the park and the zoo. But that's just not an option anymore. It's too cold to play outside, I don't normally have a car during the day, and it takes forever to drive anywhere anyway.

So I've come up with a plan to cope with the long days alone. Some might call them New Year's resolutions.

* Write something every day--blog posting, journal entry, creative writing. Subject and content isn't important, just the time spent writing.
* Read more, watch TV less.
* Do some form of exercise every weekday.
* Try a new recipe once a week.
* Take a few minutes to watch the sunrise and sunset every time they're not covered by the clouds or fog.
* Open the blinds on sunny days.
* Call one of my sisters if I'm feeling stir crazy.
* Get on the floor and play with my toddler every day.
* Read to my toddler every day.
* Work on a project every day.
* Celebrate random holidays.
* Keep a list of events to look forward to.

I'm not usually a fan of the landscape around here. But when the weather is good, the sunrises and sunsets are beautiful.

The Dump

Turn onto the Bickleton Highway at the edge of Goldendale and you’ll soon see a sign that says “No Services for 65 Miles.” Halfway through that 65 miles, and you’ll be in Bickleton. No services simply means no gas. But the no services sign means much more to its residents.

There’s no mail delivery service. There’s also no garbage service.

I had no idea that I’ve been spoiled my entire life by having someone come and pick up my garbage from the curb. When you live in an apartment community you throw your trash in a large dumpster and have no idea how much garbage you actually create. But in Bickleton what I see as an inconvenience, local residents see as something they get for free. No garbage pick up means no garbage pick up fees.

Instead of traditional garbage pick up services, we take our garbage to the local dump. It’s the fourth largest landfill in the country and since we live in the same county as the landfill, we are allowed to dump our garbage, even large appliances if we want, for free. The catch is that we have to take it there ourselves.

We were told that it’s a “short drive” to the dump. I’m beginning to think that the locals think anything less than an hour is a short drive. When you have to drive almost an hour to find a couple of stores, and an hour and a half to find most the places you actually want to do your shopping at, I guess anything less than an hour is a short drive.

But first you have to find a place to store your garbage in between dump runs. We bought a large plastic tote that takes up all the space in the back of our car to keep our garbage in—this also solves the problem of not putting the garbage directly in our car.

Thankfully, the tote has a lid to contain the smell. I’m even more grateful for the garage and large storage space that we have so that the garbage doesn’t have to stay in our living area. Particularly those bags of soiled diapers which become so potent after a couple days of sitting that they almost knock you out. I suspect that we will have to make a trip to the dump much more frequently once those diapers are sitting in the summer heat.

It’s not as easy as when we lived in Portland, but we still try to recycle. We have to sort our plastic, glass, metal, and paper recycles now. For now, we burn our paper garbage in the fireplace. But I can’t imagine that will be as much of an advantage when it’s hot out and we’re trying to keep the house cool.

Since we have to deal more closely with our own garbage, and since we don’t have a garbage disposal, I’m grateful that my husband bought a composter. I put food scraps in a large bowl as I cook, he transfers that to a bucket and as that fills up, he takes it out to the composter in the back. I almost feel good about throwing stuff away in the compost—I feel like I’m doing something good, as well as keeping some really stinky stuff out of the garbage that we have a much closer relationship with now.

I’ll be honest. I’m still a step removed from the garbage that I create. I don’t take it out to the tote, and I’ve never been the one to exit the car at the dump and throw it down the chute. Thank goodness for my husband and the traditional role of him as the one to take out the garbage. In the back of my mind, I worry about what I would have to do if he ever goes out of town and the garbage fills up while he’s gone.