NHVSP 2010 Update 3

To our far away readers,

I write to you as the sheets of rain play melodies on the slate roof of my dwelling. I listen closely and hear the ballad unfold, its tempo ever changing with the wind. Soon the wind joins in with its sorrow-filled howl, and it’s not long before the trees are swaying to the music of the rainstorm. So I sit here, in my wool sweater, with my feet tucked under the stove, and I unfold to you the beginning of our journey.

This week we filled the days with sewing our anoraks. We spent four days following careful steps and now we all look sharp in our forest-green uniforms. Thick fur wraps around the hoods of some, rich acorn-brown trim around others. Each of us took the time to make our coat unique. Jane was an amazing help, and never lost hope in us. She was there for every stitch, and we now have beautiful anoraks thanks to her.


While half the group sewed, the other half grabbed their axes and piled into the van for a full day of logging. We needed to cut spruce saplings to build a new lodge next spring. We drove to a grove of young spruces and were soon busy chopping. We took the time to carefully select the right kind of tree, making sure that we were only cutting down the ones that weren’t getting enough sunlight, or trees that were blocking the sunlight of younger ones growing around it. As the day ended and we prepared to leave, we clasped each other’s hands, bowed our heads, and raised our voices in a song of thanks to the forest.

One night as we finished our meal, Lisl announced that we would be taking a trip to the bakery to watch Noah show us the art of crafting loaves of delicious bread. Half of the group went, and the other half stayed behind to finish projects. It was a late night and everyone crowded in to watch Noah. The bakery was warm and cozy and you could smell the dough as it rose and simmered in the oven. Noah stayed up late telling stories as we circled around him. Back at Kroka everyone had piled into the Big Yurt and made a huge nest of sleeping bags. Soon we were all laughing and rolling around on the floor.

When we finally finished our anoraks and logging, we met Misha for a long cross-country ski across marshlands. We spent the day trekking through the marsh and trying not to break through the ice. We spent the day examining tracks, skiing off huge rocks, and laughing at the simplicities of life. Many of us filled our back packs with as much as we could muster to experience what it would soon feel like on the trail. The ski filled up the whole day. We returned to base camp to relax and wash up.




On Saturday, the tenth grade from The Lake Champlain School came to visit. We helped them set up camp and then played games and shared stories with them. They spent the night in Palugo, and we girls piled into the lodge with our semester boys. Once the tenth grade left, we settled back into our regular routines. Now that our group is more acquainted, we have started a nightly long share. One member of the group gets as much time as she or he needs to talk about her/his life up until now. We have learned so much more about each other from these and I eagerly await the rest of the group’s sharing.



On Sunday we skied with Noah to his bakery. We skied on snowmobile trails and got a better idea of how our trip may feel. When we reached Noah’s we had a filling meal of his bread and then helped him make picnic tables. Once we had completed the tables, the boys and girls took turns in the sauna. We relaxed until we couldn’t take the heat anymore, then chopped a hole in the ice and jumped in the pond.





Life has continued on busy as ever and just as wonderful. We have learned an abundance of skills already and we still have much more to learn. Pack out day is approaching and there is still so much to be done. Our relaxed moments seem to be shortening as does the time to our departure. All of us are looking forward to getting on the trail and it seems like the days aren’t rushing by nearly fast enough. The open road awaits us, destination Northwoods, departure one week. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” -Robert Frost

Yours Truly,


Iyla MacArthur, Semester Scribe


Below is a poem written by Kendra about her knife.


My own two hands

(With the assistance of

Blacksmiths and micro planes)

Made you rough and smooth

I found your curves in a dream…

(Buried in fungus,

Drowning in doubt)

And in that small, forgettable space

You were conceived

Made of wood and undeniable

LOVE

With my own two hands…

Wrapped in leather and filled with beautiful sorts of things…

…Resting (as if a child) on my hip

Here is life made with my own

Two hands.