Eastward Ho!

My little granddaughter is a complicated person: affectionate, headstrong, bright, spirited, cheerful, opinionated, creative, competent, resourceful, and fun. She’s holding it together in the face of major challenges, though she knows (because I’ve told her) that she doesn’t have to be a model child all the time.

Imagine adjusting not only to a new school, new people and unfamiliar educational concepts, but also to different home rituals. She’s doing so well, and I’m proud of her—as she knows. She’s been getting up for school cooperatively (so far) and completing tasks on the pre-bedtime list I made for her (tooth-brushing, setting out clothes and the like) without nagging from me. 

But a person has to take a stand sometimes. Sit down at the dinner table? Sure, most of the time. But once in a while it makes more sense to get up and try to see if her great-great-grandmother’s dining room chair can be balanced on its two hind legs. Complete a task I ask her to do? Absolutely, usually, but sometimes a person just has to say “no” first. Get to sleep relatively early so we can wake up early? She tries really hard, but when you have as much energy as she does, winding down takes time. She recently suggested I sing to her to get her to relax, and that actually helped. She rates each song with a thumbs-up or a “meh.” Her favorite: Dona Dona. Not so hot: Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore.

She’s been great about doing homework too, but sometimes it’s overwhelming and her only recourse is to shut the world out and withdraw for a while. And I understand. “Algebraic notation method”? What the hell is that? After 15 minutes of searching online, we gave up.

All this is to say that the adjustment is a lot for both of us, but things are going amazingly well. I don’t want to deluge her all at once with a whole new set of expectations, so we’re easing into things bit by bit. I figure it’ll be another few weeks before we’re settled into some kind of normalcy. Even then our days will remain exceptionally busy.

A while back I booked an AirBnB for us in Grass Valley over the Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend with the plan of heading from there up to the snow for part of a day. But because of Covid in the classroom, I didn’t know if we’d be able to make the trip. Luckily, the eve of our Saturday departure we got our Covid-free clearance.

As we were about to drive away I got the strangest alert on my phone. I’ve never seen such a thing here.

Our first stop was to see my beloved TJ in the boonies south of Grass Valley. We hung out, masked and distant, in her yard, and explored the many trees uprooted in the storm two weeks ago, which left them without power for a week.

Then on to Bridgeport to meet my likewise beloved Syd. The old covered bridge has just reopened after extensive renovation.

Before taking a Syd-selected walk along the South Yuba River (the Buttermilk Bend hike), the more agile among us did gymnastics. Because of my twisty geriatric spine, I had the wisdom to opt out.

The river glowed in jewel colors.

Em learned from Scientist Syd about geology, botany and watersheds, and managed not to fall into the shallows at the water’s edge.

The next day we made our way higher into the mountains. We invited Syd to join us and, to our delight, she was willing and able. Not only that, she was the one who led us up Highway 20 to find the perfect spot: Bear Valley, where there were several feet of snow. Since it’d been a while since the last big storm, it had transformed from powder into icy “Sierra Cement,” but was still lovely.

Ember had several things on her agenda:

• Snow angel.

• Snow person. (This is Alfred.)

• Sledding.

Remember I just told you about my good judgment in deciding against attempting a cartwheel? Well, this time the call of the crunchy hill was too powerful. Ember, who had already taken a wild and bumpy ride down, advised me to the contrary, but I mounted the blue plastic steed partway down the run and rocketed off. Man, was it fast, which was lots of shrieky fun until I went just the littlest bit airborne and thwomped down hard on the rocklike snow on my coccyx and aforementioned twisty spine. Here’s the moment just before impact, as captured by Syd.

Until that moment, things like walking and sitting had been mostly painless. As I scraped myself off the ground rubbing sore body parts, Ember chided, “I told you not to do it!” Syd asked, “Was it worth it?” After two sleep-challenged nights and continued difficulty moving, the jury is still out.

But otherwise, what a perfect three hours in the great outdoors.

Sadly, now we have returned to life as usual, but I’ve already made plans for our next adventure at the end of February (Lulu found us a totally goofy place two hours north in Mendocino County), right after Ember gets to see her devoted parents in Chico.