Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now

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  • Free-range kids? Congress may have an opinion

    Lenore Skenazy’s piece in Reason on free-range kids

    As a boomer who grew up on the edge of a treed ravine that went down to the Humber River in Toronto, I was absolutely a free-range kid.

    In the summer, we wandered freely in the woods. The only absolute rule was to stay away from and out of the river.

    My mom sent me alone to the grocery store at age 7. I had a morning paper route when I was 11 years old. Once a week I walked to my piano lesson, several blocks away from our home, starting at age 8.

    Most of my friends have similar stories — latchkey kids, kids on bikes going everywhere, curious night-sky trackers,  intrepid fort builders — we were do-ers, not watchers. A phone was a thing on the wall in the house, not a carry-everywhere entertainment device.

    I have a book coming out in November — The Booker Rebellion, a fictional story of free-range kids living remotely in the Oregon Coast Range, whose parents have specific rules for how their kids venture out. But these youngsters roam. They encounter dangerous people. Their skills, based on their free-roaming experiences, help them cope.

    I wasn’t thinking free-range when I wrote it. I was thinking, smart, resilient, observant.

    Because legislation has been introduced on this subject (click on the image above for a link) I’m curious about other people’s experiences with the concept. I’d like to write an essay about it for publication. If you’re willing, I’d love to hear from you — about your childhood, about your parenting, either or both. The three questions below may help you get rolling. If you’d prefer to share privately, use the contact link on my home page. It would be great to have real-life experiences to include in the essay.

    1. What’s your experience, either as a kid or as a parent with the idea of letting kids have a certain amount of freedom?
    2. What do you consider the pros and cons of free-range parenting?
    3. Should Congress weigh in with legislation?

  • Pressure treated wood won’t harm the veggies, research shows

    Pressure treated wood won’t harm the veggies, research shows

    Six years ago Craig built a couple of 4×8 raised beds for a tidy vegetable garden where we could grow tomatoes, tomatillos, squash, raspberries and, sometimes, garlic.

    He chose 1×6 redwood planks because they outlast by several years most other woods available in our Pacific Northwest region. But for the upright posts on either end of the bed, he chose less expensive and long-lasting chemically treated 4x4s (they anchor supporting wires that hold up raspberry canes). Like many gardeners, we worried that the chemically treated wood might leach into our veggies and fruit, and opted for the more expensive redwood surrounding the soil.

    Now Oregon State University has come to our rescue with the release of initial results from a five-year ongoing study on whether and how far the chemical — copper — migrates into the soil.

    These are the two questions they sought to answer:

    1. Do raised beds constructed from pressure treated wood leach copper into the soil?
    2. If leaching does happen, do the vegetables and herbs grown in the raised bed absorb the copper?

    The best news is it doesn’t move into the plants at all.

    Thank researchers at the university’s Department of Wood Science and Engineering for work that can put gardeners’ minds to rest when they choose copper-treated lumber for vegetable gardening.

    Thank the Oregon State University Extension service for writing up a great and easy-to-follow article, which also goes into detail about the longevity of the wood.

    https://extension.oregonstate.edu/catalog/em-9879-pressure-treated-wood-raised-bed-construction-oregon

    Photos by Susan Palmer

  • For heartbreak, I recommend awe

    For heartbreak, I recommend awe

    I ran away to France twice in 2016. Seen now, a decade out, it’s hard to fully recall the pain of that year. Current happiness overlays that time. But living through a marriage disintegration, that’s hard. In May that year, I understood my marriage was doomed, yet I couldn’t imagine life without my spouse. So I grabbed one of my beloved sisters, and we flew east, landing in Annecy, a ski town in the Alps near the Swiss border. Surrounded by stunning peaks, sitting on a pristine lake, it wears its charm with great pride.

    By November the divorce papers were signed, and I ran to France again, alone this time because deep pain needs privacy the way a broken limb must be kept from moving in order to heal. I chose a town to visit based on a random photo of massive headlines overlooking a pretty harbor. It was a genius bit of luck.

    Cassis sits in the heart of Calanques National Park, a little east of Marseille. Time and geologic construction have created massive limestone buttes that drop straight into the sea. You have to be there. You have to bring your small short-lived body to it, get in a boat and motor out to get a good look at this intersection of the forces that built this over millions of years. I don’t know why the realization that I am a mere blink in the universe is healing but there you are.

    Cassis France gave me back my heart, cracked of course, but functional. Things got better. Three years ago, I brought my dearest new love there. When heartbreak has disappeared, no longer even a speck in the rear view mirror, sharing must be done. You have to walk around, pointing and sighing, introducing your loved one to the place that brought you through the storm.

    It’s no surprise that I’ve set the novel that’s in final polish here. My creative self can’t let Cassis go. The book’s working title — Blue Coast in Winter, a literary thriller — keeps this place still ringing like a bell inside me.

    Photos by Susan Palmer