The Earth Day Lesson: Inspiration Through Kindness

My son has enjoyed picking things up outside since the day he began to walk. He’d fill his arms full of sticks at the family cabin – clearing the grass of debris. My son’s hands, pockets, and stroller cups would be full of pine cones, stones – anything he’d find in his path when we would take our walks. I had to stop him from picking up garbage on a daily basis, as you can imagine. My son grew, and his awareness of litter and trash in the environment grew right along with him. I’d get questions like: “Mom, why is there trash on the street?” or “Mom, why can’t people throw that away in a garbage can?” Combining his love of picking things up with his concern for the environment was only natural. My son is 9-years old now, and he and his 7-year old sister have been celebrating Earth Day by picking up trash along our favorite walking road for four years now. Both of the kids have the day marked on their calendars. This year they had a count-down to Earth Day for two weeks before the day – you’d think it was Christmas. This story isn’t about my children picking up trash on Earth Day, it’s about a lesson they learned this year – I wish you could have seen their faces. Our family headed out on our yearly Earth Day walk at about 5pm. Both kids donned vinyl gloves and carried a tall kitchen garbage bag while my husband and I walked the dogs on their leashes. A race ensued for the first 1/2 mile of our walk – a race to bag the garbage first. Throughout the walk, several people stopped to thank the kids for cleaning up the roadside. “You’re welcome!” my kids would respond. It wasn’t until we were almost back home that a woman and her husband caught up to us as the kids’ garbage bags were slowing them down by then. The lady hurried over to the kids, walked alongside them and said “I just wanted to tell you both that what you are doing is so wonderful – it’s inspirational!” “Thank you!” my son replied. “Thanks!” my daughter chirped in. A big smile spread across the ladies face as she said “Keep doing what you’re doing” and she hurried off to catch up with her husband. Five minutes later, we saw the lady turn around to meet up with us again. “I just wanted to tell you that you both were so inspirational that I’ve decided to pick up trash on my way home.” she said as she stooped down to pick up a crushed cardboard box. “You’ve inspired me!” she said again. My daughter looked up at me with her mouth open in awe, which quickly turned into a smile. My son hobbled up to where I was walking with his extra-heavy, packed garbage bag and exclaimed “Mom, did you hear that? We inspired her to pick up garbage too!” I smiled, and we all yelled out “Thank you for helping!” The kind lady turned back, smiled, and waved with a garbage-filled hand. For the last block-and-a-half of our walk my family discussed how an act of kindness can inspire others to pay-it-forward. My son quickly realized that more trash was picked up that day than he could have picked up himself because he and his sister had inspired someone else. An important lesson was learned on Earth Day, a lesson that my kids will never forget thanks to the kind lady – an act of kindness can inspire others to pay-it-forward. Have you been inspired by an act of kindness? What do you do to make our world a more beautiful place? I’d love to read all about it. Unbound Roots has been nominated for the Hidden Gem award through the annual Bloggers Bash Awards. If you’ve enjoyed this story or others that I have written, would you mind taking a moment to vote? No personal information is collected – all you have to do is click and you’re done. You can vote HERE. Thank you so very much for your support!

Port Aransas, Texas: From Minnesota to Texas and Back Again

I’m happy to report that since my last post, almost all of the snow (18″) that was dumped on us here in Minnesota on April 15th has melted away. Mother Nature gave us what seemed to be an epic ending to our winter weather as spring has finally arrived. The scilla in the garden have bloomed and the daffodils are close behind. Relief! The same feeling we had after we decided to drive south during the cold and snowy winter of 2014. The winter we drove from Minnesota to Texas and back again. We left our house on the morning of February 27th, 2014 when the air was frigid enough to freeze exposed skin in 10 minutes or less… …and arrived at our destination – I.B. Magee Beach Park in Port Aransas, Texas within 36 hours. I.B. Magee Beach Park is located on the northern tip of Mustang Island in Port Aransas. The park consists of 167 acres, and offers 75 modern camping sites that include electric and water, plenty of primitive camping space just feet from the warm Gulf of Mexico waters, extremely clean bathhouses (if you know me, you know I can’t do dirty public bathrooms – I’d rather find a wooded area), fishing, birding, shelling, swimming, and is pet-friendly. We pulled into the park at 10:30 pm – the park was dark and quiet, but we could hear the lapping of the waves on the sand. We couldn’t see a thing on that moonless night; however, I opened the windows and asked the kids “What do you smell?” My 5-year old son replied “Fish!” and my three-year old daughter asked “What is that smell?” as she wrinkled up her nose. “That, my dears, is the smell of the ocean.” I replied as my husband and I started to laugh. I guess maybe it’s an acquired smell. As we pulled up to the park office, friendly staff members were awaiting us in the lobby. We were quickly checked in, given a park map, and guided to our campsite. We tried to be quick and quiet with our set-up as campers surrounded us. Luckily, my parents were our neighbors to the East as they were spending the winter in Texas volunteering at the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. So, they took the kids while my husband and I set-up the pop-up camper. Within an hour we were all settled and ready for bed – excited to explore the island in the morning. When we awoke the next morning, we found that my parents had gone into town and bought a variety of bakery treats to greet us with. Eating outside in the sunshine with green grass beneath our feet was a gift. Bakery goods were a regular treat that our family shared up at the family cabin on summer weekends for decades, so my parents thought they’d bring that special tradition to us on the first morning of our trip. Immediately after the kids finished their doughnuts, they made a bee-line for the ocean – through the campsites, over the bunkers, and out to the sand they ran. They couldn’t wait to see this large body of water we had discussed before our trip – the thing that incensed the air with the smell of fish. Ha! The Beach I.B. Magee beach was expansive, offering a lot of play room for our family. Picnic tables lined the backside of the beach, and a fishing pier could be seen on the north side of the park. The sand was soft and clean with very little seaweed littering the ground, and the ocean waters were warmer than expected in the middle of winter. Our first morning on the beach was quite cool and windy, but it didn’t stop my daughter from making sand angels (which turned out to be much different than the snow angels she was used to making at home) in the soft sand that was warmed by the sun, and turning our dog, Brook, into a sand pup. My son was most excited to try out his new metal detector on the wide beaches. He found fish hooks, tent stakes, old cans, and a few treasures – coins that had been eroded by years of salty water and sand washing over them The next few days were warmer, so the kids braved the ocean waters, and even gave it a little taste. As you can imagine, we got a laugh out of seeing more wrinkled noses as they figured out just how salty ocean water is. The beaches at I.B. Magee were relatively empty at the end of February. There were a few walkers here and there, a couple of surf fishermen and women in the evenings, but for the most part, we had miles of open beaches to ourselves. This was perfect for treasure hunting, dog walking, shelling, sand castle building, and exploring the wildlife on the beach. Oh, and for my three-year old daughter to pretend that she was hunting the seagulls. At least, I think she was pretending. Port Aransas offers much more than stunning beaches, and we didn’t wait long to continue our explorations. Aransas Pass Ship Channel Two days into our stay we took a walk to the north end of Mustang Island where the Aransas Pass Ship Channel runs. The walk to the channel was full of wildflowers… …fishermen sitting in lounge chairs with their poles in hand, and kids flying kites. Our favorite observations were the brown pelicans flying by… …the massive shrimp boats of different shapes and colors moving at a snail’s pace through the channel… …and the playful dolphins swimming alongside the boats hoping for a shrimpy treat. I bet you’re wondering if we were lucky enough to eat some fresh Gulf shrimp. We sure were! Into Town Downtown Port Aransas is what you would expect to see in a small island town. Businesses and small homes of bright island colors paint the town happy. Funny signs greet

From Minnesota to Texas and Back Again: I Blame the Snow

I’m sitting at my desk staring out of the window as the soft white snowflakes continue to blanket the landscape. My little plot in Minnesota has amassed over 18-inches of snow in the last 24 hours, and there is no sign of it stopping. I usually love snowstorms as there’s a quiet peace about them, but not today (or yesterday, for that matter). It’s April now. Minnesotan’s have already endured a long winter, and we are ready to get outside without requiring snowshoes or having to bundle our kids in 752 layers – think Ralphie’s brother in the movie A Christmas Story. April has been most unusual with multiple snowstorms and cold temperatures (today the temperature is 25F when the average is 60F) this year. The daffodils and tulips should be emerging from the ground, and my husband and I should have our greenhouse up by now (last year it went up in mid-March). Instead, we have two feet of snow on top of the still-frozen ground. My son should be starting his spring soccer practices, but the outdoor fields are obviously not playable, and the indoor dome that my son has been practicing in collapsed last night due to the weight of the snow. This has been an April that we won’t soon forget. In fact, this weather is reminding me of the cold and snowy winter of 2014. The winter of 2014 was paralyzing. Getting outside when the snow piles up and the temperatures are cold enough to freeze the comb off of our rooster (yep, that happened) is hard to do with two small children. I remember feeling trapped as a stay-at-home mother, and the kids had cabin fever too. We needed to get out, so we decided to borrow my parent’s camper and head south – all the way to the southern tip of Texas. We loaded up the camper, made our camping reservations, chose our stopping points on the way down and back, mapped our driving routes, and prepared to head south – except another big snow and ice storm hit. The storm that ravaged our area in mid-February was so bad that the state shut down many of the highways and freeways in Minnesota – something that is virtually unheard of in this hardy state. Ice glazed the roadways, the temperatures were too cold for chemicals to melt the ice, snow piled up, and the wind continued to blow the light snow over roadways making the streets extra dangerous. Consequently, we had to delay our trip by a few days, because who wants to pull a camper on treacherous roads? After snow removal, canceling of a reservation, and waiting out the storm, we departed three days late. We left our home at 5 a.m. with temperatures dipping well-below zero degrees Fahrenheit. In 24 hours we would smell the salty ocean air and feel the relief of southern temperatures. In the next couple of weeks I will share the adventures of our 3,300-mile road trip, and how we managed a fun and fuss-free trip with two young children and a dog. Get ready for first ocean experiences, wildlife adventures, and grapefruit the size of your head! Please join my family and me for a road trip from Minnesota to Texas and back again. In the meantime, I hope the spring returns to Minnesota; otherwise, I’m going to dig out that camper and head south again.

“Jessie Diggins Coming Through!”: The Best Cross-Country Ski Trip Ever

“Jessie Diggins coming through!” my daughter exclaimed. “Go Jessie go!” I played along as I heard the rhythmic swish, swish, swish of my 7-year old daughter’s cross-country skis passing me on my left. “Do you think I could be in the Olympics one day, Mom?” she yelled over her shoulder as she continued to pull away from me. “OF COURSE YOU COULD!” I replied – hoping she could hear me up ahead. “Here she goes again!” my 9-year old son said as he took off to race his sister. My daughter has been practicing her cross-country ski sprints ever since that historic cross-country ski finish by USA’s Jessie Diggins – I’m sure my daughter is not the only one. Who wouldn’t be pumped up, motivated, excited, or ready to try cross-country skiing after watching Jessie Diggins and teammate Kikkan Randall take the gold in the Ladies’ Team Sprint Free Final in Pyeongchang (the first gold medal for USA women in cross-country skiing). The jostling for first place between the USA, Sweden, and Norway, the final push for the last 100 meters, the NBC announcer’s extraordinarily excited commentary, the win by a half a ski length, the yell by Jessie as she crossed the line, and the tackle by teammate Kikkan Randall as Jessie collapsed in exhaustion led to the most exciting finish of all Olympic activities – well, it was for my family and me. This finish had everyone in our house up off the couch yelling, cheering, and celebrating the epic win. Check out the excitement in the video below. As my son and daughter skied back to me, I asked them “So, how far do you want to ski today?” “Let’s ski all the way across the lake!” my son suggested. “Yes, can we, Mom?” my daughter asked. “Hey, I’m game if you two are up for it.” I answered. “YES!” yelled my son. “I’m so excited!” said my daughter. This winter my kids have had fun making distance goals each time we ski the lake. The furthest we had skied was to the spot my kids named “The Peninsula” – a total of less than two miles round-trip. Skiing across the lake means doubling our previous distance. On this day, the sun was out, the temperature was perfect (about 35F) and we had the lake to ourselves – not a car, fish house, or person in sight. We had just a few inches of powdery snow on top of the foot of crusty snow that lay heavy atop the thick bed of ice (we’ve had a cold winter), so the skiing was fast. As we set out on our trek across the frozen lake, my kids had energy – they were excited to attempt their longest ski yet. I can’t tell you how many times they both talked about how excited they were, how happy they were to be skiing, and how they couldn’t wait to tell Dad how far they skied. But, with kids, the journey is much more than how far they ski. On our way across the lake, the kids noticed a wild rabbit mostly buried and dead in the snow, so we had to stop and discuss why this may have happened. “Do you think it was run over by a snowmobile?” my daughter asked. “I doubt it, but you never know.” I answered. My son then noticed dog tracks next to the rabbit. “Look!” He yelled. “Look at those tracks. Do you think those are dog tracks. Maybe they’re coyote tracks. Do you think some type of dog killed the rabbit?” “Again, it could be. But, I think that if a dog or coyote killed the rabbit they’d probably run off with it and eat it.” I replied. “Perhaps the rabbit got lost in one of our recent snowstorms and passed away in the middle of the lake.” I offered. “Poor rabbit.” my kids said. About 20 minutes later, we spotted a tiny spider darting around on the snow. “Now, how do you suppose this little spider made it out onto the middle of the lake?” I asked. “Mom, there is land all around the lake – it could have come from anywhere!” my son said almost exasperated. I laughed and said, “Well, yes, but that is a long way for a little critter to walk.” We came up with the possibilities that the spider may have: blown to the middle of the lake from a tree bordering the lake hitched a ride on a bird and dropped to the lake dropped off of someone’s vehicle or ice house We were left wondering what the little spider would eat while he was out there. After about an hour and a half of skiing, exploring, and lots of conversing, we hit our destination. The kids rejoiced and fell onto the snow to cool down as soon as they reached the far side of the lake. Both of them took a small piece of bark that had fallen off of a nearby tree and put it in their pockets to commemorate their achievement, and asked for a picture so that we could prove that we had made it across the lake. The journey back was a little bit slower, as we took a couple of breaks, and skied through an obstacle course (the car wheel tracks and skid marks from pulling ice houses across the lake had made for some fun hills and valleys in the snow). But our conversation was just as entertaining as it was on the first part of our journey. “This is just the perfect day” “I’m so hungry and thirsty” “I hope Dad is going to go grocery shopping soon because we’re going to eat everything in the entire house” “The sun feels so warm” “What do you think sugar ants think when they see us” “If you think that would be bad, what do you think sugar ants think when they see an actual giant” “What if

Lake Superior: The World’s Best Playground

The birth of Minnesota’s North Shore was a dramatic fire and ice event – the end resulted in the world’s best playground. Stephanie Pearson, from Outside Online, discusses the Lake Superior area and writes: “All ­together it’s a giant, world-class playground for hiking, trail running, mountain biking, kayak­ing, sailing, backcountry camping, and open-water swimming (for anyone crazy enough to try).” I would like to add agate-hunting, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, bird-watching, nature-photography, mountain climbing, canoeing, berry picking, and fly-fishing to the list. Eight state parks line the North Shore of Lake Superior in MN, ready for explorers. Each park has unique and magnificent natural wonders that really need to be experienced in order to fully appreciate them. Because of the dramatic geological history of the Lake Superior area, much of the North Shore is wild, rugged, and left untouched. Cascading waterfalls awash viewers in a light mist, deep gorges give the faint of heart butterflies in the stomach as I cling to a tree while others go to peer over the edge (wait, did I write “I”?), layers of pine needles on the trails feel soft underfoot and give off a sweet strawberry aroma, wild blueberries, raspberries, and thimble berries await the hungry hiker in late summer, and bright colors of lichen adorn the ancient basalt bedrock that lines the lake. You may even catch a moose swimming in a backcountry wetland, bald eagles soaring over the cliffs, deer nibbling on spring growth, and trout darting under the overhangs in the many creeks and rivers that bubble and tumble into Lake Superior. If you are one of those people who is crazy enough to slip into the icy waters of Lake Superior, you are in for an adventure. Taking The Plunge When you step into the frigid waters of Lake Superior, it takes mere seconds before your feet start to ache from the arctic water, and only a minute or so before your skin goes numb, thank goodness. Although, at the numbing point you have to exercise caution, as the feet tend to stumble around as they try to navigate the slippery rocks underfoot. My family has had a yearly tradition of submersing ourselves in the icy waters. I swear, we are not crazy (okay, at least not all of us). This tradition is more of an “Okay, Lake. Give us all you’ve got. We can handle it!” kind of thing. We often have one or two people that slip due to numb feet – sending them splashing, ill-prepared into Lake Superior’s ice-bath. For some reason, those who are standing can’t help but laugh, but at the same time are thanking the Lord above that it wasn’t them – this time. We usually have curious on-lookers, who are most certainly happy they are still dry and warm where they watch, but can’t wait to see the reactions of the swimmers as they dive it. What does it feel like to dive in? Walking out to the point where we submerge ourselves usually takes us at least five minutes. I don’t know why we take so long. It’s not like we ever really get used to the water. Our minds are probably stopping us. We don’t swim on days when the waves are large. No thank you! Here in MN, most of us don’t know how to handle those ocean-size waves – especially those that are near freezing temperature. The guys usually take a little longer to get used to the water (ahem), but usually stay out longer than the women. There is usually a 10-second count down to submersion. On zero, we dunk under. Our breath gets caught as the cold envelopes the our entire body. In seconds we explode out of the cold water. A few of the crazy ones stay to swim (I told you not all of us were crazy) for a few minutes – relishing in the cold, weightless, free-feeling of swimming. Everyone who emerges from the lake (we haven’t lost anyone yet) steps out with a smile on their face. If for only a minute or two, we bested the giant, frigid, vast lake. After stepping back onto the shore, we like to warm ourselves on the rocks. This always (yes, always) leads to agate hunting as we relish in the warmth of the rock. Hunting The Not-So-Elusive Lake Superior Agate Agates can be found in almost every country around the world, but the regions around Lake Superior are the only areas in the world containing the Lake Superior agate. According the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR): The Lake Superior agate differs from other agates found around the world in its rich red, orange, and yellow coloring. This color scheme is caused by the oxidation of iron. Iron leached from rocks provided the pigment that gives the gemstone its beautiful array of color. The concentration of iron and the amount of oxidation determine the color within or between an agate’s bands. These agates can be found in much of Minnesota and into Northwest Wisconsin, as glacial movement spread agates with constant friction and movement throughout the ice age. What I believe is so special is that anyone can find agates in Minnesota. Agates are everywhere. Every time we go to the North Shore, my family brings home dozens of Lake Superior agates. Most of them are the size of dimes or quarters, and if we’re lucky, we may go home with silver-dollar sized rocks, but these are much more rare. All you need is to know what to look for when searching for the not-so-elusive agate. The DNR goes on to provide a list of what to look for when searching for one of Minnesota’s state gemstones: Iron-oxide staining in shades of rust-red and yellow is found on most Lake Superior agates. Translucence allows light to penetrate the stone. Sunny days, especially early morning and late evening, are best for observing translucence as the sun rays shine through the stone. A glossy or waxy

Lake Superior: A Watery Graveyard

Lake Superior attracts thousands of visitors from around the world each year. What many don’t see is how quickly the lake can transform from a sleeping kitten with glassy waters to a raging tiger with 30-foot waves when a storm blows in. A nightmare for those working the Superior waters. Hundreds of shipwrecks lay on the cold, dark, rocky bottom of Lake Superior. A haven for scuba divers, these shipwrecks lay preserved in the icy depths of the lake. The Lake Superior Visitor states: All over the Great Lakes, wooden schooners were colliding, breaking away and sinking. Others were destroyed by fire. Actually, it wasn’t usually the dark, stormy nights, but the inexperienced crews that caused most of the shipping accidents in the late 1800s. However, Lake Superior shipwrecks continued well into the late 1900s. The Edmund Fitzgerald Perhaps the most well-known wreck on Lake Superior is that of the Edmund Fitzgerald – thanks to the popular 1976 folk song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot. Sean Ley, Development Officer, at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum writes: The final voyage of the Edmund Fitzgerald began November 9, 1975 at the Burlington Northern Railroad Dock No.1, Superior, Wisconsin. Captain Ernest M. McSorley had loaded her with 26,116 long tons of taconite pellets, made of processed iron ore, heated and rolled into marble-size balls. Departing Superior about 2:30 pm, she was soon joined by the Arthur M. Anderson, which had departed Two Harbors, Minnesota under Captain Bernie Cooper. The two ships were in radio contact. The Fitzgerald being the faster took the lead, with the distance between the vessels ranging from 10 to 15 miles. Aware of a building November storm entering the Great Lakes from the great plains, Captain McSorley and Captain Cooper agreed to take the northerly course across Lake Superior, where they would be protected by highlands on the Canadian shore… According to Captain Cooper, about 6:55 pm, he and the men in the Anderson’s pilothouse felt a “bump”, felt the ship lurch, and then turned to see a monstrous wave engulfing their entire vessel from astern. The wave worked its way along the deck, crashing on the back of the pilothouse, driving the bow of the Anderson down into the sea. No one knows exactly what happened to the Edmund Fitzgerald, but 29 men lost their lives on that fateful day. The great ship did not survive the 80mph winds nor the 25-foot waves that Lake Superior threw at the Fitz that day. Ley writes, “what caused the ship to take on water, enough to lose buoyancy and dive to the bottom so quickly, without a single cry for help, cannot be determined.” Shipwrecks are still being discovered today. In fact, the J.S. Seaverns, a 130-ft. ship that went under in 1884, was just discovered in the summer of 2016. The J.S. Seaverns was used to haul supplies to lumber camps and to transport supplies to build railroads from 1880 until it sank in 1884. Amazingly, 132 years later, much of the ship was largely intact when it was discovered writes Andrew Krueger from the Duluth News Tribune. Ships aren’t the only vessels to sink to their watery graves only to be preserved in the arctic water – people are preserved, too. Lake Superior Doesn’t Give Up Her Dead An old saying, “Lake Superior doesn’t give up her dead.” is both folklore and fact. The cold water of Lake Superior does not allow bacteria to grow like it would in warmer water. The bacteria that usually causes the body to bloat and float is kept at bay in the frigid waters of Lake Superior. Because the temperature of the water is so cold, bodies can be preserved for many years in the deep depths of Lake Superior where water lingers around 34F or 1.1C. One can imagine the secrets and stories that Lake Superior has yet to reveal, or may never reveal. Even though the deep depths of the lake contain sad and tragic stories, the surface of the water and surrounding land offer incredible scenery and opportunities for the young and old. See the last installment to my Lake Superior series here: Lake Superior: The World’s Best Playground

Fly Fishing For Trout in Minnesota: A Summer Paradise

Time To Head Out My husband and I roll down the car windows and turn up the radio as the heat of the day creeps up. We turn onto the back country roads that run parallel to the river, and listen to the crunch of the wheels on the gravel roads. Once we reach the easement to the river, we park on the side of the road and prepare for fly-fishing. Chest waders go on first, followed by our fly-vests. The leather harnesses of our split-willow creels are draped across our chests – though we never seem to keep the trout we hook. Two-way radios are hooked onto our vests to communicate on the stream, and waterproof cameras stuffed into pockets to capture the moment we catch a lunker. We grab our fly-rods and head out. Waiting Waters Tall grass and wildflowers greet my husband and me as we step off of the road. Five-foot tall stinging nettle threatens us as we near the trout stream. We lift our arms and rods high in the air to avoid its sting, while dodging the outstretched arms of nearby trees grasping at the tips of our rods. A light morning fog appears before us – a sure sign that the icy water of the stream is imminent. We crouch beside the bank of the trout stream as we approach the water. The water is clear, but alive. An ever-observant brown trout darts from under the bank beneath our feet – spooking several other fish in the process. My husband whispers that he is heading upstream. I will stay here as there are fish to catch. I enter the waiting waters cautiously as my husband tiptoes away. Swift currents and smooth rocks underfoot threaten my balance. I take my time – feeling out each step before fully committing. Cold water presses my waders against my legs as I move toward the center of the river – cooling me from the heat of the day. I have my eye on an undercut bank on the opposite side of the river a few yards upstream. I stop in the middle of the river – it needs to rest. The water continues to rush past me, carrying away the evidence of my arrival, and the trout calm – a sense of peace restored. The Rhythm Of The Cast Bringing the fly-rod straight up, I grip the fly-line with my rod hand as I release the fly from the hook holder with my other. I peel line off of my reel, letting the hook and line drop beside me. The floating line moves with the tumultuous water – curling and twisting around me before straightening as the water carries it downstream. I grip the line by the reel with my free hand and raise the tip of the fly-rod into the air – keeping the rod in line with my forearm. In a straight and fluid movement, I bring the rod tip down in front of me – pausing to let the fly-line follow. I repeat the pattern, but this time I allow the line to unroll on the surface of the water after the last forward movement. The fly lands in the quiet water near the undercut bank. Patience Moving water carries the line back toward me as I watch carefully for any movements indicative of a strike. I slowly pull the slack line through the guides on my rod. As the fly approaches, I begin the rhythmic casting again. The process repeats until I see the slightest pause in the movement of the fly-line as it floats toward me. Everything surrounding me disappears as I focus solely on the line. I hold the fly-line and raise my rod tip straight into the air as I feel the erratic pull on the line – fish on. Keeping the rod tip up, I strip the line steadily while keeping the line taut. The fish attempts to dart back under the bank, and I lose my footing for a moment as I try to maneuver the fish, but remain standing. Up stream, down stream, through fallen trees, and around large boulders – the fish tries to escape, but I am patient. Soon I land the 10″ brook trout. Keeping the fish underwater, I gently dislodge the hook. The scales are so small that the trout feels smooth – almost scaleless. The gold color of the fish is highlighted by red spots rimmed with an electric blue. I observe the most obvious sign that I have caught a brook trout – the contrasting white accents on the bright orange, lower fins. Gently, I lower the fish deeper into the water allowing it to swim away. It swims slowly to the river bottom – pausing to recuperate before moving on. I radio my husband to notify him of my catch. Time to move. I move upstream; looking for a new place to land my fly. Downstream of fallen logs or large boulders, deep holes – often appearing turquoise in color, or another undercut bank will do. My husband and I fish a couple more hours as the fog disappears under the heat of the mid-day sun. Submersed in Beauty We pause for a lunch break, a quick dip in the water – yes, it takes our breath away, and an hour of reading by the trout stream. My husband goes back to fishing late in the afternoon, but I choose to sit on the bank near where he fishes. I enjoy watching him fly-fish as the cast of a fly-rod is one of the most breathtaking displays – an art. The rhythm of the cast and the silent movement of the fly-line in the air is captivating. The way the line rolls out on the surface of the water is awe-inspiring. I sit for an hour before the fog begins to return as the sun lowers in the sky. Twilight arrives and sparks of light begin flickering throughout the

Grounding: A Lesson From My Daughter

A few days ago I walked out on my back deck to find this: A little human footprint among the puppy prints in the snow. That would be my daughter. She is the only one in the house who would venture out into the new fallen snow in her bare feet. I couldn’t help smiling after seeing her prints in the snow, which also started a chain of thoughts on my end. First of all, my daughter is the queen of barefoot walking. I’m sure we have all gone through periods of walking barefoot, with most happening during childhood. I remember the thrill of walking, running, climbing, and jumping barefoot when I was young. Climbing trees was easiest when my little piggies were free. Jumping in cool puddles after a rain was bliss. And, racing through the soft green grass while we played neighborhood games was so much fun. But, these times are gone. My feet have lived in shoes while outside for many years. Now it’s my daughter’s turn to go barefoot while climbing trees, jumping in puddles, and playing neighborhood games. She also goes barefoot while hiking and taking the dogs for long walks. Only wearing shoes while going into public buildings, or boots when temperatures dip too low here in the great state of Minnesota. My daughter is determined to go barefoot, and she’s determined to get others to try it too.   The Birthday Party One month ago, at my daughter’s birthday party, I overheard her talking to her cousin about going barefoot outside. Her cousin hardly steps foot outside without his shoes on, but my daughter convinced him by saying  “Just try it. If you practice a little each day, your feet will get stronger and tougher, and you will feel attached to the Earth.” My nephew got a big smile on his face as he headed out the front door sans shoes with my daughter. As she bounded onto our gravel driveway without missing a beat, I had to laugh a little when my nephew looked, well, he looked how I probably look when I try to walk on that dang driveway. Limping, stepping as light as he could (not that this really helps), and heading straight for the grass. “See?” my daughter said, “It’s not that bad.” Ha! That’s what she thinks. My nephew remained shoe-less for the remainder of the afternoon. He’s stronger than I am. When my daughter said that my nephew’s feet would feel stronger and tougher after going barefoot, I understood what she was talking about. She convinced me to try going barefoot a few times this past summer on our gravel driveway just for the sake of making my feet tougher. I imagine I looked like an injured fool as I navigated the driveway. Tiptoeing as fast as I could to reach the reprieve of the soft, green grass, but limping each time I stepped on one of those evil, larger, gravel stones. My daughter laughed as she took off running down the driveway. Her feet are tough. This I observed, but her statement “…you will feel attached to the Earth” is what I had questions about.” After seeing her footprint in the snow, I asked my daughter “Do you remember when you talked your cousin into going barefoot at your birthday party?” “Yes.” she responded. “What did you mean when you told him that soon he would feel attached to the Earth?” I asked. She replied “I don’t know, I just feel connected to the Earth when I go barefoot, and it makes me feel good.” This response reminded me of a comment one of my readers had written on my Get Outside and Get Into Nature: Your Mind and Body Will Thank You post. Grounding Dr. Allison Brown wrote: “Have you heard of Grounding? Just putting our feet on the earth causes measurable, physiological changes that impact the health issues you’ve mentioned and more! Humans are wired to require a connection to the Earth!” Grounding is a concept I have never heard or read about. Could grounding be the “connection” my daughter experiences when she walks barefoot outside? What is Grounding? Grounding (also known as Earthing) happens when the Earth’s surface electrons are transferred into the human body through direct contact with the ground, such as walking barefoot. In our body, free radicals are unpaired electrons that scavenge the body to seek our other electrons so they can become a pair. This action causes damage to cells, proteins and DNA. Free radicals are associated with many human diseases including cancer, Alzheimer’s disease, Parkinson’s disease, and many others (Lobo et al., 2010). When the skin comes in contact with the earth, free electrons are taken up into the body.  These electrons are natural antioxidants and help neutralize damaging free radicals. Antioxidants are molecules which can safely interact with free radicals and terminate any harmful reaction before vital molecules are damaged. Okay, so how does this help our bodies? Benefits of Grounding Oschman et al., 2015, wrote: Electrons from the Earth may in fact be the best antioxidants, with zero negative secondary effects, because our body evolved to use them over eons of physical contact with the ground… The disconnection from the Earth may be an important, insidious, and overlooked contribution to physiological dysfunction and to the alarming global rise in non-communicable, inflammatory-related chronic diseases. According to Chevalier et al., 2012, emerging scientific research supports the concept that the Earth’s electrons induce several physiological changes in the human body such as reduced pain, better sleep, a shift from sympathetic (fight or flight) to parasympathetic (rest and digest) tone in the autonomic nervous system (ANS), and a blood-thinning effect. Further exploring the effects of grounding, Oschman et al., 2015, conducted a study where they repeatedly observed that grounding increases the speed of healing and decreases or completely eliminates inflammation. They discuss that grounding is a simple, natural, free, and accessible health strategy that can be used against chronic inflammation. Pain and

The Lure of Fishing

“Mom, will you write a story about fishing this week?” asked my son as we were sitting at the dinner table earlier in the week. “What made you ask that? I asked him. “Well, you like to write about nature, and fishing is a ‘naturey’ thing.” he replied. I smiled and said “You’ve got that right. I really like your idea! Fishing it is.” After all, we were planning on heading to the cabin in a few days – the place where I learned to fish when I was a little girl. The perfect spot to get me in the fishing frame-of-mind. Cabin As soon as we arrived at the cabin this evening, my family piled onto the old pontoon. My husband pushed the pontoon away from the dock, my daughter scooted onto my lap, settling in to drive the pontoon to our favorite fishing spot, and my son was busy setting up his line already. While my daughter steered the boat out of Cabin Bay (an endearing name given by my children), she commented on the shoreline just four doors down from our cabin “Look at their perfect shoreline! They have a tree hanging over the water which is perfect for bass.” That’s my little fishergirl. Tonight I’ve decided that I’m not going to fish. Instead, I’m going to start this fishing story that my son has requested – a story that I’m excited to write as fishing has been an important part of my family for many generations. In fact, my great-great-grandparents depended on fish to help sustain them, as they were farmers that were the second generation removed from Sweden, and had very little money. In the words of my great-grandfather: In the early spring before the ice was off the lake, we put our long gill nets in. We had two, I think. They were 30 feet long which gave us 60 feet of gill nets. My father and I would walk down to the lake about four in the afternoon, row out to the edge of the ice, and row slowly along the edge as the net was laid out. Sometimes we had fish to bring home with us at once. The next morning we picked off all the fish in the nets, sometimes as much as half a gunnysack full. It was always a cold job, but rewarding. These fish, mostly northern and sunfish, were all delicious coming from the ice cold water. I loved to walk along the shore wearing knee boots and shoot fish. If I shot above the water the concussion would stun the fish and they would turn up and be picked up. We shot two one day, one weighed 19 ½ pounds – another 14 pounds. This was illegal, but the game warden never bothered anyone till after World War I, when they tightened up on us. After that, we never put out the nets, but I continued to shoot fish. This was only possible when the fish were spawning and swimming in the meadows at high water. They would lay their eggs in the low meadows then go back to the deep lake, but I shot lots of big fish in season. Fishing wasn’t isolated to early spring. My great-grandfather continued: Victor Erickson and I would also spear fish in the night late in the fall. Using a gasoline torch, we could see the bottom of the lake and easily spear any fish that showed; one man rowing the boat backwards, the other standing at the stern where the light was with the spear ready to stab. Back In The Day Gone are the days of using nets and spears for fishing in my family. Our typical outing requires a rod with hook and bobber, and a tin of wax worms, a container of leeches, or a bucket of night crawlers that the kids collect after the sun goes down. Growing up, my parents or grandparents would take the children out in the old Lund or Alumacraft boats, and we would drop a line somewhere along the shore of the cabin lake. Sunfish, crappies, perch, northern, walleye, and largemouth bass were the typical species that were pulled out of the water, but dogfish, sheephead, bullhead, and carp would surprise us on occasion. I remember the excitement of seeing the bobber go down, the competitions my family used to have to see who could get the biggest or most fish, and watching wildlife as the sun went down in the evening (although, back then I didn’t realize the importance of this). As we sit on the pontoon, I ask the kids what makes fishing fun for them. My daughter simply says “I like to catch the fish.” My son replies “I like to watch the bobber start to go under, and I love not knowing if the fish is big or small, or what type of fish it is.” Neither of them commented on the wildlife around them, but my daughter admired the beautiful sunset, and my son was watching birds fly about. Immersed in their surroundings. The Fishing Experience As I look around me I see the sugar maples starting to turn hues of yellow, orange, and red on this late-September day. Majestic white pines are sparse among the maple trees, but they tower over all others – dark green with soft, long needles. Wild rice along the shoreline has started to turn autumn brown, but the arrowhead plants are still a bright green. The day has been unusually warm, gracing us with temperatures in the mid-80’s. A light breeze blows from the south – warm for the most part, but cool when the gusts lift off the cold water.  The dog is lying in her favorite spot on the front deck of the pontoon. My husband and children are quiet – entranced by casting, waiting, reeling, and casting again. Wood ducks startle and fly out of nearby cattails, a sharp-shinned hawk flies overhead, and the rough squawking