Blog

Seed Starting 101: The Dirt On Getting Stuff To Grow Indoors

April 10, 2017 by Leah Leave a Comment

Every year, January rolls around and as I’m recovering from the holidays I get a bright, shiny gift in the mail….my Baker Creek Heirloom Seed catalog. This book is so gorgeously printed that it causes a person to wonder how on earth they can afford to print such a quality piece of marketing material by just selling seeds. I mean….

A friend recommended this company to me several years ago and I’ve never looked back. Forget the tepid, boring, lifeless varieties sold in ugly cardboard displays at big box stores. When I get seeds from Baker Creek, I feel like I’m taking part in a tradition that dates back to ancient methods of farming. I am getting an untainted heirloom product that has been lovingly preserved for generations because of its flavor, hardiness, profundity, and sheer beauty as a plant. Most years, I’ve spent less than $30 on seeds. Considering the amount of produce that comes out of our plot, this is an absolute steal! If I sound a little nuts in the head, it’s because I’ve spent years of my life in the dirt from when I was an awkward wee lass selling tomatoes on the side of the road up to this point where I sweat my arse off in the southern heat of summer, trying to coax food from a clay-hardened ground.

Here in Nashville we have a saying, “It all begins with a song.” Here in my yard I say, “It all begins with a seed.” The first year I tried growing from seed was a dismal failure. I got all my little cell packs, planted tomato seeds in them and put them in our laundry room which has big windows and lots of natural light. The seeds sprouted, then they kept getting longer and longer, but the leaves weren’t growing, then they sort of rotted off right at the soil line and just died on me. I felt like a total failure as a gardener and bought starter plants that year. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with buying starter plants, however, they do carry risks. Many starter plants come from other parts of the country than where you live, and especially with tomatoes, they are susceptible to carrying blight which will totally ruin your crop and spread like wildfire if not immediately addressed. Some starter plants come pre treated with pesticides which kill bees and other beneficial insects that would otherwise help your plants flourish. And sometimes they are mislabeled, so that lovely mild pepper you thought you were planting is actually a hellfire, rip your throat out, bastion of flame that will burn your molten eyes right out of your head. I speak from experience.

What I love about growing from seed is that the world becomes your oyster in terms of varieties available to you (except oysters are gross, snot on a shell basically, so just use that as a metaphor and know that I don’t actually eat them). Every year I grow squash and beans I’ve never seen anywhere else, except in this garden. I grow tomatoes that cannot be purchased from local farmers or supermarkets. And even flower varieties I would never think to plant because they are annuals have found a home in my flower beds because they are so different and pretty. You just never know! So after that first failed attempt at growing from seed I realized that the single most important factor to starting anything indoors is light. A sunny window might seem like enough light, but odds are your plants will end up leggy with long thin strands of stems they can’t stand on.

LIGHT

I purchased a grow light from Amazon and have never looked back. The Purple Reign light can fit two full flats underneath it, so what I do is I start some and then move them outdoors once leaves are established so I have room for plants like tomatoes and peppers that need constant light and warmth. I have it set up on a timer and leave the light on for 14 hours per day. At this rate, it takes about 4-6 weeks for my tomatoes to reach a stage of health and readiness for the outdoors. I don’t plant anything outside or leave anything out overnight until the temperatures stay above 50 degrees. Typically, I keep the grow light about 2 inches above the plants. As they get taller, you raise the light up so the leaves don’t burn on the bulbs. If the light is kept too high above the plants, the seedlings will grow taller in an effort to reach it which could result in leggy, weak stems.

SOIL

As far as what to plant the seeds in, I use an organic seed starting soil that you can purchase anywhere. The reason I use this and not regular potting soil is that seed starter tends to be more sterile. Potting soil has a tendency to develop fungus gnats which are a total pain. If you notice small gnats flying around your seedlings, create a diluted mixture with a drop of Dawn and some water to make a mild soapy wash. Water the plants with that and it should take care of the problem. This will not harm your seedlings. Seed starting soil is very light, so when you first try to water it, it’ll float on top of the water and really piss you off and make you want to throw things. What I like to do is use a spray bottle to wet the tops of the soil and then I water everything from below by adding water to the trays as needed. The spray bottle is gentler when the seeds are just sprouting and will keep you from drowning the seedlings with a watering can. Once they’ve popped out of the soil I think it’s better to water from below so the stems don’t rot off at the soil line (this is mostly a tomato issue called damping off, which I think is a disgusting name. Imagine using that in conversation. “Oh, how are you today?” “Man, not so great, I’ve got a bad case of damping off.”).

CONTAINERS

Many seed starting kits come with these tiny plastic black cells and I think these things are crap because they are way to small to house the roots of most plants. Your seedlings will need to be transplanted before they’re even ready to go outside. Tomatoes have very deep roots and squash must not be root bound before being planted outside, so I got these 3 1/2 in square pots at a garden supply store for $0.30 apiece (you could order them online too) and I can fit 18 of them in a tray. I put one tomato per pot, one squash plant per pot, and then for herbs and flowers I just drop a bunch of seeds in there and have a cluster in each pot. For peppers, I find they work great in 4-6 cell containers because they grow slower and the plants stay small. I also put my cucumbers in 6 cell containers. Most of my containers are ones I have saved over the years from plants I bought at garden centers, so they are all reused. If you buy berries at the store, the plastic containers they come in are excellent because they have drainage holes built in the bottom. I also don’t prefer peat pots because first of all, the harvesting of peat moss is bad for the environment and screws up a lot of marshy habitats. Secondly, I’ve seen the peat pots develop mold and need to be peeled off anyway before the seedling is planted in the ground, which totally defeats the purpose of planing in a peat pot…I digress. This is just personal preference.

AIR/SUN

Once you notice that your seedlings are beginning to look hardy and have strong stems, you can begin what is called hardening off. This is when you take them outside for a portion of the day to let them get natural sunlight and air movement that will strengthen the stems. You have to be careful about this though because sometimes direct, hot sunlight can burn the leaves on a tender seedling. For things like squash or cucumbers, you should be totally fine to put in direct sun (make sure they are watered so they won’t dry out). For plants like tomatoes or certain more delicate herbs, some shade under an umbrella will suffice until the plants are strong enough to handle full sun. Also, don’t accidentally put them outside when a torrential downpour is in the forecast or you will hate yourself.

DIRECT SOWING

There are certain plants that you can absolutely start right in the ground and do not need to start inside ahead of time. Examples are squash, cucumbers, herbs like basil, parsley, cilantro, dill, beans, and leafy greens like spinach and lettuce. Many of these will sprout in 7-10 days and absolutely take off once they’re established. I have chosen to start my squash and cukes ahead of time because I have vine borer and cucumber beetles in this region of the country. I find that giving the plants a head start strengthens them against these pests for a little longer and actually lets me harvest a fair amount before the squash plant needs to be pulled. A farmer recently told me that way to avoid vine borer is to plant AFTER their season is done, which is around the beginning of June. I am going to try this for this season and report back. Vine borer in the South have two rounds, so if I plant in between, maybe I will get less damage. We shall see.

TRANSPLANTING

OK, so you’ve grown these plants from tiny little seeds and they seem so fragile, pathetic really, like a strong gust of wind could blow them to smithereens, or a feisty mockingbird could have its way and decimate an entire row of tomatoes just by tweeting at them. Once I’ve figured out the layout of the garden and where I want the plants to go, I bring out only the ones that are ready to go into the ground, so the others don’t wilt in the sun. For tomatoes, I add crushed eggshells to the hole before planting them because it’s a natural way to add calcium to the ground, which in turn can help keep skins from splitting later on. You can save eggshells in a Ziplock in the fridge or pulse them in a food processor to get them fine enough. I also put a small ring of newspaper around the neck of each seedling which will protect it from cutworms. Cutworms are brown caterpillars that chew the stems of seedlings and kill a plant before it’s even had a chance to start. Tomatoes can also be planted rather deep if the stems are leggy because roots will grow off of the stem.

For squash and cucumbers, I am very careful not to break their stems because they snap a bit easier. I don’t believe in making mounds for squash or cukes, it just seems unnecessary. Plant the soil line of the seedling even with the soil line of the ground. For others, like herbs, just plant as you would any flower that you bought at a nursery. I love grouping herbs like basil as opposed to separating and planting single plants here and there. Keep in mind when you first plant the seedlings, they will look wilty for a bit and you might think they’re going to keel over and die. Keep an eye on them, water them, but don’t over water them (no helicopter parenting), and they will perk up once new roots start growing. Here are a couple of pics from last year. The first one is right after the seedlings were planted and they look sad. Then they perked up…

So that is what I do. A lot of this is personal preference and there are so many other ways to successfully grow seeds indoors, although I do think a light is a necessity regardless. Some things have worked better for me than others, and this year I’m really happy with what’s coming up so far. It’s ALWAYS an experiment. Every year is different. The weather can make or break the season. Too much rain, stuff rots. Too little rain, stuff dries out. Sometimes one variety is a total fail in your area, but another variety of the same thing could become your new favorite that you’ll plant year after year. It just depends!!! Please feel free to comment with tips and tricks that have worked for you. I’m always learning and love to hear what other gardeners have discovered in their own plots. Happy planting!!!

Falling Apart & Climbing Mountains: The Strength & Frailty of the Human Condition

April 5, 2017 by Leah Leave a Comment

Back around Thanksgiving when I was visiting family and half the people there were sick, I managed to catch a cold. A cold that turned into a sinus infection, that turned into an ear infection, that turned into sudden hearing loss, that turned into one of the most painful illnesses I’ve had to deal with as an adult to date. I was in and out of doctors’ offices, taking multiple rounds of antibiotics, painkillers, and steroids…yet the hearing in my left ear stubbornly refused to return. After finally being referred to an ENT at Vanderbilt, I got a steroid shot through my eardrum, took some more antibiotics, and at last had an MRI which revealed I have mastoiditis. The short version of that is I have a chronic infection in the bone behind my ear which is responsible for conductive hearing. Due to shoddy medical care at the walk in clinics I went to and poor decision making on the part of the first ENT I saw, I now am dealing with a condition where I have nerve damage and still have not regained, and may never regain full hearing in my left ear. The latest round of antibiotics hasn’t seemed to help, so the next step is another temporary hole in my eardrum that will enable me to deliver antibiotic drops to the inner ear. The saga continues in a couple of weeks at my next visit.

During this time, I have also been dealing with some issues that resulted from the antibiotics I had to take. Lady issues that I won’t go into here. I’ve been to an excellent women’s clinic here in Nashville that specializes in delicate issues and found out I have two other conditions which have made my private life as a woman rather difficult over the past several years. Except these are issues women don’t talk about because we’re too embarrassed or ashamed to admit that we deal with them. These issues have resulted in feelings of shame, brokenness, self loathing, and utter despondency that I struggle with in my marriage and as a woman in general. They are directly related to my scoliosis, which was discovered when I was 12. After the embarrassment of wearing a back brace for 2 years, that effort failed, resulting in a doctor callously telling me I needed a surgery to fuse the vertebrae in my spine. I could not be more grateful that I never went through with that surgery. I have struggled with chronic pain for years, my hips and shoulders are a bit crooked, and my muscles spasm in all the right places after I’ve done a good day’s work in the yard, but I still have mobility and am filled with gratitude for the things I can still handle.

In short, there are days when I feel like my body is falling apart. I am in my 30s and there are moments when I feel frail and vulnerable as a feather in the breeze. At the same time all of this is happening, I have never felt physically stronger in my life. To say that nature is a healing force would be a gross understatement. Over the past couple of years, I’ve transitioned from writing a lot about the remodeling of our home and gardens to the trails I’ve hiked and the trips we’ve taken. Much of this sharing is an effort to expose people to beautiful places in the hope that they too might want to travel and see them, that other women might be brave enough to get out there, even if it means going alone. As glorious as these places are on the outside: alpine forests layered in moss, frozen lakes that turn azure in the summer, golden aspens flung across mountainsides, and trails that go for miles through wilderness where the only sounds are those of chirping birds and winds caressing branches. I wish I could adequately describe what these places have done for my heart and my body.

This past weekend, I strapped on my new backpacking pack, loaded up with 17 pounds of gear, and headed to a local trail. I had just done this trail a couple of days before with a friend. We saw 3 barred owls and watched two of them call back and forth to each other before silently taking flight through the trees to meet on adjoining branches. It was a moment frozen in time that left me in wonder. On the way home from the trail, a brown coyote loped sneakily across an expansive front yard in a wealthy neighborhood. Not even the rich are safe from those that prowl at dusk. As I hoisted the pack onto my back two days later, my muscles were tired, my legs, hips, and shoulders were still sorely recovering from the prior exertion. I put my headphones in and struggled over those 4.8 miles, feeling like that trail would never end. The hills seemed so much bigger. The 1700 feet of ups and downs that I can normally handle without a problem felt like it was going to break me. 17 extra pounds felt like 50. I have no idea how thru-hikers do it!

The reason I’m training with my pack is because Rob and I are planning to hike Rocky Top in Great Smoky Mountains National Park with some friends in May. It’s one of the hardest climbs in the park and we are backpacking a few miles up to a back country campsite, then hiking the rest of the way to the summit. In June we’re going to Yosemite and I want to hike as much as I possibly can and see a few places I didn’t have time to see last year. At elevation, those hikes are a challenge even for people who are in good shape. In September, we’re going to Vermont for a friend’s wedding and would like to attempt to hike Mount Mansfield, the highest peak in the state. The last time we hiked in VT, the trail seemed to just go straight up into the sky over boulders and tree roots, so this time I want to be more prepared. As a person who is clumsy at best, and not the least bit athletic, these endeavors may seem silly, even downright stupid, but they have been paths to healing for me. The pain in my back has lessened dramatically as my legs and hips have strengthened from repeated ascents and descents in the hills and mountains of Tennessee. Emotionally and mentally, being outside has brought focus, purpose, and meaning to my life where the church left a giant painful void years ago. If you want to find me in church, I’ll be out in the woods, where the hiking community is welcoming, caring and judgment free, and God’s creation is so painstakingly evident in every tiny flower, leaf, mushroom, birdsong, feather, millipede, mountain view, rainbow trout, and black bear paw print. Surround me with forest and I am in the arms of God.

In the moments of weakness when I feel like I can barely make it up the next incline, those are also the moments where I discover a strength I didn’t realize I had inside of me. All of us have something. Maybe it’s the betrayal of our own bodies falling to pieces on us no matter how healthy we try to eat or how cautious we try to be. Several people we know are dealing with the devastation of their marriages falling apart, having to piece themselves together to function for their children, or figure out how the hell to keep their lives from disintegrating miserably to pieces as they lose everything they once held dear. There’s addiction, loneliness, grief, loss, depression, the ugly little lies we tell ourselves….there is so much to overcome. But there is beauty at the top of these internal mountains after the shitty parts are over. The tears and sweat bring you to a place where you can look back from where you came and finally release the weight you’ve been carrying. A climb can bring a person to a clearer perspective…and all before you is beauty. We can choose to see beauty or we can choose to see pain. A dear friend who lost her son said she makes that choice every single day.

I think it’s important to remember that we can be weak and strong at the same time. That it’s ok to admit our frailty and still be emboldened by our strength. It’s one of those weird puzzles in life that I will forever be trying to make sense of. In the meantime, I may ask you to repeat what you said a little louder. I may ask you to help me carry something that feels a bit too heavy. And I will definitely ask you if you want to come hiking with me…

Processing All The Feelings: Living In The South & The Women’s March On Washington

January 27, 2017 by Leah Leave a Comment

I needed some time to process, to fully think about what the Women’s March on Washington meant to me. The experience opened up something inside of me that I had shut down and closed off. Living in the South has always been a challenge for me even though I made the choices that brought me here. I wanted to work in the music industry. I have a wonderful job that has led me to stay here and make a life in an area with reasonable living expenses, a husband who I love, and the ability to travel, but none of these things has made it easier for me to be here in a culture where I always feel on the outside or as a friend put it so aptly, “other.” I had never fully experienced what it felt like to be an outsider until I moved to the South and people called me a Yankee and constantly asked me where I was from. When I would reply that I was from New York, they would ask me what country I was from due to my ethnic ambiguity. This still happens to me today and I can only attribute this to the fact that the people asking are not well traveled, maybe not well educated, or just plain rude. Because what else would prompt a stranger to ask someone who looks different from them where you are from and then call you a name? In effect it says, “You’re not from around here, you don’t look like us, and you don’t belong here.”

And you know what? This is a feeling that black people in America feel all the time. So while I am Italian and considered “white” in this country, I can empathize with what it feels like to be judged by appearance. That’s where it ends. I cannot relate to having people in my family tree who were once enslaved, beaten, bought and sold. I cannot relate to watching people from my race shot by police officers, or pulled over and arrested because of their skin color. I cannot relate to the psychological weight that comes from being part of an oppressed people. And yet, I hear many conservative folks talk about how black people are working the system, using their welfare to buy fancy cars, cheating the government, not willing to work hard…waves of judgment stemming from generations of privilege that goes unacknowledged because of the lack of ability to put oneself in another’s place.

I live in the South surrounded by neighbors who own guns and openly discuss the automatic rifles that sit in their closets. This does not make me feel safe. It does not make me feel safe when family members talk about handguns newly purchased or bring out the latest addition to a collection of weapons that serve no other purpose than to kill or maim. I live in the South where a proposition was voted on last year that says abortion in a case where the life of the mother is at stake is prohibited. I still see the stickers on cars all over town of people who think the life of a woman takes second place to the fetus she carries. I see stickers that say “Trump that Bitch,” “Hillary for Prison,” “I have guns and I’m not afraid to use them,” and on and on the list of one-sided offenses goes, spewing hate from the backs of vehicles all over the town where I live. Sometimes these stickers sit next to an ichthus, the symbol of a fish which is used to represent Christianity and declare to everyone on the road that you are a Christian…but that you also think “Bitch” is an appropriate thing to call the most qualified woman ever to run for President. The puzzling thing about the evangelical culture that exists here is I don’t see it representing Christ in a way that those outside of the culture would desire to be drawn to him. As someone who grew up in the church, went to a Christian university, and is familiar with the teachings of the Bible, I am repulsed by the culture of church that I am surrounded by. I have not lost my faith. I have not lost my love for God. And yet because I do not go to church, there have been several occasions where I have been witnessed to in an attempt to be converted…to something I already believe, but apparently not in a way that is satisfactory for an evangelical in the South.

So I live in the South, but have never felt a true sense of belonging here because, to put it bluntly, these are not my people. There are oases of friends who live here, face the same struggles, are like minded, and provide outlets of genuine conversation that is raw and honest and real in every way. I work with some of them and have dinners or go for hikes with others. Those are the people I cling to in this culture where I feel “other.” So, last week when I went to Boston, then to New York, and finally on to Washington, I was given a reprieve of this feeling and felt an instant relief at not having to defend or explain why I am who I am. As I stood in a crowd of people on a subway platform in DC getting ready to march for women’s rights, a cheer broke out and I felt chills go up and down my spine. A friend in our group who had traveled to the march looked at me and laughed, saying, “Leah, do you feel like you’re with your people now?” And yes, hell yes, I did.

In the weeks leading up to the march, the reactions to the announcement I was going were mixed. My husband was supportive and proud of my involvement. Some friends immediately wanted to know if they could come too. And others reacted with an awkward “Okaaaay…” or just tried to change the subject, wholly disapproving of my reasons for going, but not wanting to offend. My main reason for attending the Women’s March on Washington was to stand in solidarity with other women who wanted to make the statement that sexism, sexual assault, and discrimination against women is not acceptable in any way. I also wanted to be one of thousands sending a message to the incoming president that I find his actions toward women to be deplorable, disgusting, and completely inappropriate for someone who is meant to be a leader of integrity and an example for young people in our country to aspire to. In addition to this, I wanted to march for all the women who could not be there in person, who feel marginalized in some way, who have been abused, who are poor, who have been discriminated against because they are women, who have been denied access to routine preventative healthcare, who have been forced to make the decision to terminate a pregnancy because their life or the life of their unborn baby was in danger. I ache and I weep for these women. Aside from donating to organizations that support them, I wanted to physically do something to show support, I wanted to be counted among those who stood up.

The march was uncomfortable. We stood for hours, crammed in with thousands of people, personal space nonexistent. Some cheered, some clapped, others chanted, and the energy was palpable. We stood waiting for the march to begin, not being able to hear the rally which ran 45 minutes over time. Finally when it was time for us to march and for the barrier at the end of our street to be removed, the word started to get back to us that the march had been cancelled due to the number of people who had shown up. The initial feeling was one of disappointment, but then we turned around and walked up the mall toward the Washington Monument. There was an explosion of people into every street, down every avenue as women and men standing for a cause literally swamped DC with their presence. Seeing people on the steps of the monument made me think of images I’ve seen from protests in the 60s and 70s. We walked down Constitution Avenue, saw the White House, and took pictures of what we were witnessing around us. Exhausted and worn out, we continued walking to find some food and try to mull over what had happened during the day. Consensus was that even though the march wasn’t what we expected it to be, we were glad that we had taken part and made the effort to be there. Later that night as we sat looking at pictures from marches around the country and around the world, the enormity of this peaceful protest sunk in. We had made history. Women had spoken. We are here. We are listening. We matter.

As this week has passed and I’ve read the news, I have felt like I’m going to get an ulcer. My body is responding physically to the stress of watching people lose their freedoms, watching refugees in desperate situations be turned away, watching Muslims fear for their safety, watching the people of neighboring Mexico be degraded and despised by our President, watching the National Park Service be silenced and then rise up and fight to distribute facts about the state of our environment to the public, watching a freeze on federal hiring, worrying about the security of my dad’s job and the important scientific work he does, worrying about the many millions of people who could lose health coverage, worrying about the concept of putting our country first without regard to how it could harm or hurt other nations, worrying so much about so many things, feeling powerless to change any of them. I cannot quell the need to stay informed because I think that in a time like this, having eyes that are open to the truth of what is happening around us is an absolute necessity. As rampant lies spew from the mouth of our leader, reminding oneself of what is true and rooted in fact is imperative.

Going to the march, seeing thousands of women, each with their own unique story, stand up for the continuation and expansion of their rights was a spiritual experience I will never forget. It also made me feel free. I had the realization that because of where I live, I have a subconscious defense mechanism that is always on, humming in the background, leaving me emotionally exhausted from feeling like I am constantly having to defend who I am and why I believe what I do in small ways all the time. Being surrounded by women who felt the same urgent struggle toward a cause gave me the freedom to be myself in ways I cannot on a daily basis.

There are a couple of friendships in my life that have palpably changed because of this election. For me, there has been an exposure of those for whom sexual assault, racism, and bigotry were not deal breakers in the vote for President. There are some in my life who support this man unashamedly, and I am in an honest struggle to not villainize these friends and family members and to still see them as good people. It is a struggle I am unashamed to admit because I know that many of us feel this. That people on both sides are looking across the divide and trying to figure out how to build a bridge.

I am so thankful for this experience. I am thankful for every single person who was willing to travel to DC or march in their own city in solidarity. I am thankful for the group of people I was able to experience this with on that day. I am thankful for the strong women in my life who have been a constant source of inspiration and encouragement. I am thankful for those of you who took the time to read this, knowing that some will agree and some will not. We are all in this together, trying as best we can to make a better world for those who come after us….

Yosemite National Park: Wonders Of The Panorama Trail, Tuolumne Meadows, and El Capitan

September 28, 2016 by Leah Leave a Comment

There are too many incredible places in this world to see, too many incredible places in our country to see. And I don’t just want to see them, I want to experience them. This year marks the centennial of the National Park Service and what a happy birthday it’s been. This September, one of my best friends and I embarked on a ladies adventure to Yosemite National Park and I came home saying that it’s maybe my favorite place I’ve been to. The stars seemed to align, literally, for this trip to happen the way it did, and even though it was Labor Day, the busiest weekend of the year at Yosemite, we didn’t feel dampened by the crowds because we timed everything right in terms of being in and out of the valley. We camped at the North Pines campground after the stress-inducing ordeal of reserving a campsite five months prior, and we had a lovely spot near a stream and a view of Half Dome from our site.

The day we arrived at the park, we did some exploring at the Village Store and the Visitor Center before setting up camp. One thing I didn’t realize about the park is that they have every single thing you could possibly need for your trip: a grocery store, grills, markets, outdoor shops that carry stove fuel, clothing, and gear, a post office (!!!), and some really lovely gift shops, along with a very informative nature center. The next time I go to the park I’m planning to purchase all food and fuel when I get there to save room/weight in the luggage. The shuttle system in the valley is also excellent and the best bet is to park your car at your campsite and take the shuttle everywhere. That’s what we did (except for the day we drove Tioga Pass Road) and we had little trouble getting around.

After we set up camp and had something to eat, we headed up to Glacier Point to take in the views and walk to Sentinel Dome for sunset. We also stopped at the Tunnel View on the way up there, the quintessential Yosemite postcard vista.

We found the trail leading to Sentinel Dome, but quickly discovered that signage in Yosemite is a dicey. They have these old metal signs that are mysteriously absent at junctions in trails, leaving one to scratch their head and wonder in which direction to proceed. Unfortunately for us, the turnoff for Sentinel Dome wasn’t an obvious one and the sign pointing the way was placed up in the trail, so we walked right past it without even noticing. As the sun got lower and lower and we walked farther and farther, it became apparent that we needed to take our pictures, eat a quick snack, and head back.

We’d actually been on our way to Taft Point without realizing it. So we still saw a lovely view, but walked a ways in the dark (thank God for headlamps!!!) until we came back to where we’d started at Glacier Point. As we rounded a bend we ran into a man who invited us to the “star party” that happens every Friday and Saturday night at the Point. Different Astronomy groups set up high powered telescopes and view the stars from one of the most spectacular vantage points in the whole place! We were able to see Saturn, a green nebula, the Andromeda Galaxy, the Hercules star cluster, and the Milky Way. One missed turn in the trail made way for a really cool experience we won’t soon be forgetting.

The next day we woke up early and caught the bus headed to Glacier Point where we would take the Panorama Trail all the way back down to the valley. There is no shuttle that goes between the valley and the Point so you have to get a one way ticket for $25 that can be booked in advance. I’m so glad we did this because it not only saved us 32oo feet of elevation climb, but we also ended up with a really knowledgeable bus driver who’d worked at the park for 30 years and told us tons of factoids about its formation, geology, and of course, John Muir. It was a fascinating way to wake up on the way to a trail!

I can’t accurately describe how incredible the Panorama Trail is, but in John Muir’s book The Yosemite it’s one of the things he suggests doing if you only have a day in the park. You can take the 4 Mile Trail up to Glacier Point, and I’ve heard this is spectacular, but the elevation gain is around 3000 feet before you even start the 9.4 miles that lead back to the valley. So we started at Glacier Point on a clear day with views as far as the eye could imagine. You basically traverse the upper edge of the valley and see Half Dome from one side to the other.

It was an incredible hike that was mostly downhill, except for a 700 foot elevation gain somewhere in the middle. Shortly after Illilouette Falls we took the unmarked trail to Panorama Point for a breathtaking view of Half Dome and the valley. It was really too much for the mind to grasp because you are trying to comprehend massive depth and height all at the same time. Apparently there used to be a guard rail here at one time, but it fell off and is hanging on the mountain, but we didn’t hang over far enough to see it. We heard hikers passing the unmarked trail and couldn’t help but feel sorry for them because they were missing the most gorgeous view on the trail.

As we continued on we headed to Nevada Falls which was quite a force to be reckoned with in spite of it being at its lowest point in the year.

If we’d been smart, we would have just taken the John Muir Trail back to the Valley at this point, but we headed to Vernal Falls, which was meh at the top, choked with foolish people swimming in the Emerald Pool. Also, we had to take the mist trail from Nevada to Vernal and I kept praying we wouldn’t get injured along the way. This is an extremely tough walk down “steps” that aren’t really steps that are covered with sand so it’s hard to gain traction. I can’t stress enough how careful we had to be, and it’s no surprise that people die on this trail each year, and we weren’t even near the part that goes next to the waterfall and is often slippery. So instead of going down the rest of the Mist Trail we opted to back track to the John Muir Trail and take that down to Happy Isles.

Again, this was tough because at one point this trail was paved, but now it’s just covered with sand, so I was incredibly thankful to have my trekking poles to at least stop me from slipping in my trail runners. My knees were aching by the time we reached the bottom, but the satisfaction of seeing the sign where the JMT begins was a moment for me. I cannot recommend the Panorama Trail highly enough. If you have the energy and are able, do it. The views are unmatched.

The next day we headed to Tioga Pass Road, which was another heart stopping experience. The sheer beauty of the Sierras reached deep into my soul, and the peace of Tuolumne Meadows made me realize why so many people prefer the PCT over the AT. It’s just a different landscape that is more open and humbling. Since Mariposa Grove is closed for renovation, our best option was the Tuolumne Grove. We did this first thing in the morning while there was still plenty of parking in the lot and we were so glad we did. The hike in is all downhill, so be prepared for a decent lung workout on the way back. The first sight of a giant sequoia just stopped me in my tracks and made me so excited, I still can’t even believe these trees!!!

They are the oldest living beings in the world and they are of such width and breadth that even now as I think about how awesome these trees are, I can’t wrap my head around their sheer “bigness.” In the shadow of these trees, standing there like a mere speck on the ground, one gets the sense of humanity’s frailty. Some of these trees were around before Jesus was. When I stare up at a tree that has lived through fire, flood, drought, and literally stood the test of time, it makes me feel oh so small and oh so thankful for creation, for the natural world, and places like Yosemite that are doing all they can to preserve these wonders for future generations. I’ve been told the Mariposa Grove is much more impressive, but this small section of the park is well worth seeing if it’s the only chance you will have to stand amongst the giants.

Next stop was up at Olmstead Point which surprised me because I didn’t realize the role that Frederick Law Olmstead played in the planning of park. He was such an incredible man whose fingerprints are all over the American landscape, but in urban areas and in the wilderness. The view from this point is epic and I was kicking myself for not having binoculars because you can actually see the climbers on Half Dome from here. If you walk the .3 miles to the overlook, you can also see Tenaya Lake from the far side. Again, the Sierras just grabbed hold of me in this spot.

We drove past Tenaya Lake and headed straight to the visitor center where we were able to get some info on where to head. One of the saddest factoids we learned here is that 75% of people who visit Yosemite never go further than 1/4 mile from their car the entire time they are in the park. This is astounding because I can’t imagine how much you’d miss if you didn’t explore just a bit more. It made me so glad that we weren’t part of that demographic. We got some great advice here that I will pass on. Head on over to Soda Springs and Parson’s Lodge. There is a parking area where you can park and walk in, then from the lodge it’s .75 miles to the visitor center across the river and a lovely bridge that leads to a trail through the meadow. The sun was shining, the picket pins were popping their heads up out of the golden grasses, and the little dippers were wading in the stream as trout swam by. If ever there was a place that personified the word “ideal” this would be it. We took the trail to the grill where we got some great ice cream cones before heading back to the car.

Tenaya Lake was next on the list, and what a sparkling, cerulean blue oasis. We sat in the cold wind on a sandy beach with water lapping at the shore as climbers tackled the dome in the distance. Luckily the water was low enough for us to cross over to the trail that goes around the lake. Then we caught the shuttle back to our car. Peace and tranquility own this place.

Obviously there is so much to do at Yosemite that it’s hard to do everything, but we sure tried. The next day we headed down the trail from our campsite to Mirror Lake which was almost completely dried up and was henceforth known as Mirror Puddle. The view of Half Dome from this vantage point is stunning. The face stares down at the Puddle and when it is a Lake, the reflection is perfect. We then headed back to the Happy Isles Nature Center which was a wealth of information and we nerded out on factoids we’d been missing, such as types of tree bark and scat we saw on the trail.

We also headed down to the Majestic Yosemite Hotel which is really the Awahnee, but some name issue has messed everything up at the park. We had drinks on the veranda and wrote postcards in the shadow of the pines. We also used an obscene amount of hand soap in the bathroom since it had been quite a long time since we’d used a warm faucet.

My parents’ trip to Yosemite overlapped ours by a day, so we met up with them for dinner, but before that I wanted to go stare at El Capitan because it is utterly mesmerizing. It’s the largest granite monolith in the world and its height is the equivalent of three Empire State Buildings end to end. There were some climbers on the ground with a telescope so we could so the climbers on the wall. They answered lots of questions and showed off their muscles for all the ladies. El Cap…

Standing in front of Yosemite Falls at dusk. Totally dry.

The morning we left Yosemite, Alicia and I were wondering what we would see that day. Our campsite was a haven of fun activity. We saw mama deer walking their babies past. Over a dozen Merganser ducks swam by in a line through the stream one day. And on our last day, we were not disappointed…

Next year, I plan to go back here with Rob and another friend. I want to see this place again, to feel the way I felt when I was there, to experience the awe that so rarely infiltrates daily life. Yosemite is a place of wonder.

« Previous Page