Weeks 25 & 26 2025-2026
The morel mushrooms popped over these past couple weeks, typical for mid-April. They tend to emerge in clusters in the various spots they grow around here, mostly within a few days of each other. There is only a brief window after they pop out of the ground before they dry out, or other critters get to them, during which we can forage them, and after foraging they'll only keep for a few days longer in the fridge. This means from the first sighting, we have just about a week to forage, store, and cook with morels. They are considered a delicacy, and cooking with them is a privilege we look forward to year after year, so we welcome the challenge of this quick turnaround. This last Thursday, another of our kitchen frenzy days, we baked a delicious morel quiche, with smoked gouda and cheddar, and spring garlic from our garden.
Like with morels, the fast-moving energy of inspiration that won't wait, captures just about the entirety of the last two weeks.
In our smaller-than-usual group these past two weeks, we spent much of our time at TNP, continuing to settle into those spaces both indoors and outdoors. We've had more opportunity to practice our norms for sharing responsibility for the space, including daily resets when we leave at the end of the day (have I put away any materials I used? Have I washed the dishes? Do I have all my stuff? Do I see anything out of place? Are the lights off? etc.). We've figured out as a group that music helps many of us focus and move quickly when it comes to tasks like cleaning, so we acquired a new speaker to make it easy to play music, which the group immediately broke in with what they call a song circle. H in particular is often our resident DJ/song selector. A number of young people have been taking great pride and intention in organizing the sewing room, grouping fabrics and threads by color, and getting into more complex projects as the space becomes increasingly functional and hospitable. Some young people made scrunchies and bandanas; some practiced the embroidery stitches that they're learning in our ongoing Embroidery with Sarah offering; another figured out how to use yarn to give a cloth doll a full head of hot pink hair.
We are continuing to break in the Digital Studio as well, as young people spend time in this space just about every day now, writing music, and playing drums and the keyboard. We are continuing to edit the first episode of the TCC Radio Show (and are hopeful to launch it on our website this coming week!). We also went ahead and recorded what will be our second episode as well! The topic: What is the difference between consent and permission (part 1)? This was another lovely and insightful conversation, the topic containing so much range and depth we agreed this episode would be just the first segment of at least two. We are excited to share it with the world soon!
The topic felt especially pertinent to two major group discussions from the same week. The first was a culture conversation about pranking, motivated by April Fools Day, in which the group negotiated around the nature of informed consent, how to establish consent while maintaining the possibility for surprise, talking about individual limits and boundaries, and how we might respond and move forward together in the case that a line is crossed. The second was actually the discussion that immediately preceded recording: a limited number of people can speak in each episode of the TCC Radio Show, given space and microphone considerations, so who will be part of this one and how will we decide? This was a difficult discussion, as many people felt strongly about being part of this conversation on the podcast. We took our time, and figured out together how to move forward in a way that everyone could live with, that took care of each individual, the community as a whole, and the podcast itself. The group ultimately decided that it made sense for people who weren't in the first episode to have the chance to record, and that we'll plan to record a Consent vs. Permission Part 2 down the road, for those who feel strongly about the topic but couldn't be in the episode. While we reached a place everyone could live with, it was also true that many folks held feelings of sadness and disappointment at the same time they were able to recognize that this solution took best care of the group.
So many things can be true at once, and we learn we can live with discomfort, especially when we have the sense of safety knowing that our needs will be met (perhaps just not right now).
Navigating these complex moments is crucial practice in stretching into new and unfamiliar ways of being, and, once we arrive, a sense of joy and pride tends to settle through the community: we did something.
We figured something hard out. We did it with care and consideration. And, we can do it again!
DnD prep was a constant in the background of these past two weeks, with many young people playing in the new campaign working diligently to complete their character sheets, eager to start playing in earnest. Many young people did deep dives researching the many character races and classes available to create a character that they would find fun and compelling to play, a couple even going so far as to homebrew their own player races, like a kobold with wings (tiny dragon guy) and a horse (half centaur, half horseheaded minotaur, all horse). With great enthusiasm, the campaign launched this past Tuesday, and was among many young people's highlights from the day.
Another major event of these past weeks was finishing the book Root Magic,and wrapping up book club with the culminating experience of baking an Orange Cream Cake, a celebratory recipe from Gullah-Geechee culture, whose histories and folk magic make up the background of Root Magic and the author Eden Royce. Orange Cream Cake consists of two layers of from-scratch orange cake, an orange custard layer sandwiched between them, and then topped with orange glaze. It turned out to be a two-day venture: on Wednesday we baked the cakes and cooked the custard, and then on Thursday we assembled it and made the glaze (and cooked the custard again! Did you know that while cooling usually thickens custard, if custard cools too rapidly it can cause the proteins from the egg to push out the liquids, thinning the custard? We did not!). We served the cake toward the end of the day, at a book club meeting open to everyone who wanted to enjoy some cake, where we discussed and brainstormed about what our next book might be.
Over these past two weeks we also: worked in the garden, weeding and re-edging our beds to be ready for planting, and mulching our paths; played a great deal of baseball; drew; explored and restored model trains; learned foundational staff-swinging techniques ("figure eights" and "reverse figure eights"); had many conversations about various "Who Would Win" match-ups (a gorilla or a tiger?); made "lava lamps" with water, oil, and food coloring; played Twister; conducted auditions for a new Acting offering in which the young people will perform a table-read of The Wizard of Oz; had many thoughtful, deep, and connecting conversations with each other; and still so much more.
With so much already going on, and so many plans already in motion, when the morels pop we know we need to cook with them. When it comes to nature's timelines, we don't get to negotiate them; we can only choose our priorities. In another example of responding to emergence, this past Monday, we went to start barnyard care tasks, with a new plan to go straight from those to garden work so that we could jump in to everything that's on the board. On our way, we met a teeny-tiny baby turtle, turtling along down the hillside. They were so small, about the size of a poker chip, with a deep green shell and a bright orange underside. We named them Tortellini, because they looked a little like one, and eventually ID'ed them as a midland painted turtle. A group of young people stood with Tortellini for many minutes, offering protection, while we confirmed with a local herpetological group that the most caretaking course of action would be to bring them down to the pond and release them amidst some plants, to offer cover from any potential predators. On our way to release this fresh baby Tortellini, we made another discovery: an opossum carcass, easily identifiable by the long scaly tail and tufts of fur. One young person remarked on the significance of coming into the forest on this quest to help out new life, and discovering this bit of death on the way.
Be it in a baby turtle or a dead opossum, be it in emerging morels or volunteers in the garden, be it in our children or ourselves, wherever we look we see the evidence of life and living, all the time, happening quickly and slowly, with or without our attentions and intentions.
We shift here, always, to what emerges before us, that we might hold the beauty of all the life that we are living, together, as presently and wholly as we can.
Life is precious, and so we choose to hold it dearly.
With care, gratitude, and hope for the future,
Emily, Sarah, and Zoey