Line moves to Edinburgh, as her historian husband is
doing a lectureship and research at the university for two years. The
interest in gardens, herbs and healing is even greater in Scotland than what
she found at home in Santa Cruz, California. Her daughter Fern is caught up in
archaeology and the subtle drama of the dig. Line’s other kids are all
developing their own passions, Christy for politics, Heather for viticulture
and winemaking and Ivy for textiles. Pleased by these young adult involvements,
Line and Stephen follow as best they can. Poppa, Stephen’s father, lives in
Santa Cruz and runs a film club, which a local theater supports.
Marty has immersed herself in the practice of tai chi.
Master Liu, who comes out of a powerful Chinese lineage, is developing teachers
who continue to study with him and also have their own students all over the
world. She is learning many sets, including weapons sets and two person applications
in a setting which supports a complex social network as well. She is introduced to the five arts of
the Chinese gentleman, poetry/calligraphy, music, medicine, martial and
painting. Marty continues to work at
a large architectural firm in San Francisco, and falls in love with a
winemaker, learning the all-consuming poetry of wine.
The charms of the North Woods do not disappoint Paul. He and
his wife live and work in Ely, Minnesota, at the edge of the Boundary Waters
Canoe Area. His many family ties bind Paul, to Mother in particular, who is
getting on in years. And to Marie’s daughter, who marries and has five kids in
quick succession! Living near the Mikkelson home base also ties Paul to his
sisters: Hanna, whose partner Faith, runs a cheese-making operation in New
York; Ellie, the eldest, who teaches English in St. Paul; and Kristen, a nurse
married to a farmer. He finds he must also pay attention to his legs, since he
had polio as a child and has been active all his life.
I’ve been re-reading the entries Virginia Woolf’s husband
Leonard selected from her voluminous notebooks and published in 1954 as A
Writer’s Diary. In late November of 1932, she conceived what she first
thought of as an essay-novel and finally became The Years. She was
terribly excited by it, wanting to write into it some of the things she felt
about women. “It’s to take in everything, sex, education, life etc: and come,
with the most powerful and agile leaps, like a chamois, across precipices from
1880 to here and now. That’s the notion anyhow, and I have been in such a haze
and dream and intoxication, declaiming phrases, seeing scenes, as I walk up
Southampton Row,” she writes. It is a wonderful book and has been of much
inspiration to me.