My backpack

As I was driving this morning at the beginning of what was my first day of full-time employment since my daughter was born nearly two years ago, I looked over at my backpack in the passenger seat. I started thinking about all of the places that backpack has been. 

I don't know exactly when I bought the backpack, but I know it was when we lived in Wyoming (at least six years ago, but probably more.) I think my backpack would be very interesting from both an anthropological and a microbiological perspective because of everywhere it has been and because of all the things it has contained over the years. It has been in the dirt on countless mountains in Wyoming and Montana. It has sat on the floors of waiting areas and bathrooms in a dozen airports. It has been deposited on the "fragrant" ground in souks and marches in Morocco. It has gone sightseeing in Europe. It has contained bags of cheap, fresh produce in Morocco; textbooks in Kentucky; and my work computer and iPad in Alaska. 

My backpack is, I think, the only possession that I have made such consistent use of over so many years and in so many places. Germophobes reading this blog post are probably cringing at the thought of what must by growing in my backpack at this point. I used to be one of you. But now I just feel sort of...well, wistful thinking about all of the microbes my backpack has come in contact with. I feel like it has lived many lives, and that I have, too. Since getting married over 13 years ago, I have lived the lives of graduate student (twice!), hurricane evacuee, professional college teacher, world traveler, mother, and (now) speech therapist. The backpack hasn't been with me through all of this, but it's been there a good chunk of the time. 

I just can't help but wonder what its next adventure will be. 

Heitman Lake

Realizing we were stuck in a bit of a hiking rut, we decided to head somewhere new--Heitman Lake. The trail is a 10 or 15 minute drive out of town and heads partway up Heitman Mountain to Heitman Lake. (You can hike all the way to the top of the mountain if you don't need to get back home for your toddler's nap time.) 

The trail felt pretty steep to our out-of-shape bodies (and especially to T, who was carrying Rainbow in a backpack carrier), and our feet were soon covered in mud. It was also rather overgrown with various plants including salmonberry bushes and cow parsnip, a.k.a. pushki. I live in deathly fear of one of us touching pushki, as it contains chemicals which interact with sunlight to cause itchy, painful burns and blisters on the skin. I walked ahead of T shouting "pushki!" ever time I saw one of these plants, which are often big enough that they tower over my head, along the trail.

Luckily, we avoided the pushki and enjoyed the salmonberries. The weather was warm enough that Rainbow got to spend some time splashing around naked in the lake, and we had a picnic at the top of a ridge from which we had a lovely view of the lake on one side and the ocean on the other. 

Rainbow didn't eat much lunch but chowed down on unripe crowberries (a.k.a. mossberries). Not particularly tasty when ripe, they are pretty terrible unripe, in my opinion, but she insisted that she liked them.

 Now that we have flipped the page on the calendar to August, we are keenly aware of the approach of fall, and it was nice to have what felt like a real summer day.