Butter, sugar, flour, a teaspoon of flexibility, a drop of open mindedness, and a heaping tablespoon of self reflection.
The recipe for success changes as fluidly and rapidly as water boils, steams, and condenses on the lid of a pot. With different cooks at play, the recipe changes: the ingredients, the temperature, the cook time. Each recipe card is different: the length, the handwriting, the finished product. Throughout my term here at the SLA, the changes never stopped, but perhaps the one thing that has remained constant is our kitchen. Here is where my fellow LRCC members will probably groan, shrink down in their chairs, or give a nervous giggle. Instead of focusing on the state of the stove, I’ll choose to reminisce about the end products that resulted from it. Everyone had their own recipes, cooked at different times, and went through different phases of perfecting a specific dish. Despite the look of it, our kitchen always smelled amazing. We were always adding, subtracting, making mistakes, and improving our recipes; that is how I’ve chosen to look back on my term here, as a time where I gathered what I would need for my own recipe that will allow me to be the best version of myself, and the best steward I can be for this Earth.
The Ossipees, the Whites, and of course, the Squam range, appeared through my windshield in the warm weeks of early October. Hardly the first time and hardly the last, but certainly in a different light. My first month was spent hunkered in a small apartment in Campton, where I woke every morning to document the three week long shimmer of foliage in the Whites. I have yet to find a word that does a New England autumn justice.
You could say my recipe began here. While not my first time being independent, it was certainly the longest time I had been away from home, being a commuter in college. And I loved it (sorry, Mom and Dad). The things you learn about yourself when you live alone versus with your family, or even a roommate, can be unexpected. Some of those things are for the better and some things...well, you make a note at the bottom of the card to improve upon the next time you make the dish.
Winter was nothing short of a mixed bag. Officially joining the SLA's AmeriCorps crew, moving in with my new LRCC family, the second worst batch of car troubles I had ever experienced, my new found love for snow plowing, and some difficult realizations were all packed into that 5 month snow globe. I added the bulk of my current recipe during this period, and most of these additions came through experiences I had with the SLA. Our preliminary trainings combined with picking the brains of my housemates made me crave the environmental knowledge I still have yet to acquire.
One teaspoon of self education: you're the professor now, make your own lesson plans, compare notes with others and put in the effort, or the dish will be lacking.
Learning to use a router (for carving wooden signs) tested my patience. Did I say test? It also taught me patience. The scrutinization of detail was sometimes unbearable combined with the mental lull that most people suffer through the winter. Grateful hardly covers the immense gratitude I felt for living in the LRCC cottage during these times. Living alone in my own place had been wonderful, but the simple presence of my housemates across the table was a godsend for me in ways I will likely never be able to explain to them.
2 cups of community: You already knew this would always be in your recipe, but this one is the backbone of your dish. The more people you interact with, the more experiences you hear, the more input you get, the better it will turn out.
I grew an appreciation for taking things slow. I also found that letting off steam in small ways throughout the process was the way to go. It was easier to come home in a better mood if I took out my frustrations verbally at inanimate objects. I know how that sounded, but trust me, it’s a tried and true stress reliever!
A dash of talking to yourself at work: it helps you organize your thoughts, gets the stress out in the moment, and makes a tedious job more fun. Burnout is less likely. If you baste the bird only after its out of the oven, it'll end up overdone and dry.
Magical landscapes straight out of a fairy tale was another big part of the winter. The trail work was brutal at (most) times, but brushing up against Mother Nature's real life paint by numbers made our packs easier to carry. Springtime brought hope as we watched the paintings come alive and greet you each day with something new on the branch. A bud, a leaf, a tree frog.
4 tablespoons of seasons: Another given, but now you know for sure, four seasons are better than one. This helps with perspective, your ability to simply...notice, and help you devise creative adaptations to a changing environment.
And now here we are: summertime. Boat driving, dock installation, and sweating more than I have in my entire life are what come to mind when I look back on the last couple of months. My favorite season is flying by the fastest, and I have a mere six weeks left here in Holderness, though I know I’ll be back soon enough. Spending my first year in “the real world” on Squam is something I think I will be forever grateful for. I learned a host of new skills in a short period of time, surrounded by people with all different experiences, talents, and knowledge that they were always willing to share. All of these things influenced my recipe. If I had it written down on a card it would probably be unreadable: cross outs, footnotes, a bibliography, and stains galore. There is still much to add, take away, and mess up in my recipe before I perfect it, but I’m glad I kickstarted it here on Squam with the opportunities the SLA had to offer me. I’m sure that I will look back at my experience here and find additional morals between the lines, but for now I will work with what I have and use the lessons I’ve learned to help things turn out a bit better than our stovetop did.
1 pinch of acceptance: Whatever happens will happen, and everything that happens is an opportunity to learn and grow. Voila!
Maggy is a full time member of the LRCC at the SLA. During her term with us, she’s been the star of education programs, sign routing, and tackling Doublehead trail’s icy slopes with a pack twice her size. You can learn more about Maggy here!