The Wind Turbine Goes Up! And Then, Comes Down...

This is the tower arriving way back in February 2010. It was very cold that day.

Here's Kurt unloading the tower. He has a good time no matter what he's doing. I like that in a guy.

On July 13, 2011, after a two years of planning (we tend to multi-task so stuff takes a while - see photos, above), we finally raised our wind turbine. It was an amazing, exciting, eagerly awaited event – those in the community who weren’t helping were watching, which was easy to do, as it went on for several days.

We purchased a 100’ tower, which in its previous life was a radio tower at the local hospital. While the tower came with a gin pole (essentially a lever designed to help raise the tower) we still had to figure out how to get the whole thing to work.

Everything at DR is essentially an experiment – when it came time to raise the tower the crew found that there wasn’t quite enough cable to raise it. So with the gin pole alllllllllmmmmmost there, a series of cable extensions were added. It was quite a show.

Below are a few picture with details. I realize that is it not a very comprehensive explanation of how to raise a tower, but it's the best I've got.

The 100' tower rests on the ground. The gin pole is that thing sticking straight up in the air. Welded to the tower at a 45-degree angle, it is used as a lever to raise the tower. At the far end, in the DR driveway, the turbine is being installed.

Robby and Tom work on attaching the blades of the 3,000 watt turbine. Tamer and Armand, visiting while making a documentary on communities, film it all.

This sucker is BIG. At least for us. And no matter what they say, size DOES matter.

Lots of folks took turns ratcheting the tower up. No wimpy fuel-powered winches for us, no sir-eee! Here Robby demonstrates his manliness.

Slowly the tower went up and up and up. It was very cool to watch. And then, it stopped.

We had run out of cable.

By now the gin pole was really high, and pretty much out of reach. The Mercantile Tower Brain Trust went to work. How to get someone up high enough to attach more cable? Hmmmm. What if we brought out the tractor and put Tom on the bucket? FANTASTIC idea!

Thomas and Kurt providing ballast while Tom climbs.

Tom, defying death at every turn, perches (happily) on the tractor bucket to add yet another length of cable. The gin pole is to his upper right, and soooooooo close to the ground.

I secretly think that they (Tom, Thomas, Kurt, et. al) LIKE the drama of projects like this - finding ways to make seemingly impossible situations work out just dandy. They were psyched, and having a good time.

The crowd looks on anxiously. L-R Kristen, Claire, Haley, Meghan, Armand.

They scrounged up more cable and attached it. We continued to ratchet up the tower. And we ran out of cable. Again.

So they attached more.

Dave and Thomas connecting the cable extension.

After fiddling around a bit, the tower was up, the blades were turning in the breeze and power was being collected. It felt like a freaking miracle.

It was an incredible high to look up and see those blades turning, generating power (remember, we don't have TV and so tend to be quite easily amused). We designed the Mercantile's power system to run on both solar and wind - in tandem they are a great duo. Where we are located in Northeastern Missouri it is almost always windy when it isn't sunny. Because the system is fairly large (we have 28 batteries to fill) the power grew incrementally - at first we weren't even sure that the system was working. But it was, and slowly the batteries filled up.

And then came a big storm. On July 28th, the wind blew over the top portion of the wind turbine. Normally we would have been devastated, or at least tremendously bummed. But that morning when we woke up we realized that Baloo was dying, and the wind turbine seemed a lot less important. It was a good lesson in priorities. And also a lesson in the need to make sure the tower one uses is strong enough to hold the turbine placed on top.

Don't let this happen to you.

So now, a few weeks later we're making the time to work on the turbine yet again. We ordered more blades (to the tune of $2,090 - eek!) and they're waiting to be installed. I'm not quite sure how the crew plans on taking down and putting up the whole thing again. But they'll think of something, and it will definitely be entertaining. I'll keep you updated!

Bridges to Sustainability

Saturday Lunch at the Mercantile

Hi all. The following is a column written by our work exchanger Robby Boyer for the local weekly, The Memphis Democrat. That's Memphis, Missouri.


In the summer of 2010, I arrived at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage to help for six weeks on a natural building project. In the course of these weeks I grew fascinated with a community brave enough to experiment with the comforts of modernity that most Americans take for granted. This short six-week stay was just long enough to inspire to me completely change the focus of my doctoral dissertation research in Urban Planning at the University of Illinois. I have since reoriented my professional and academic life toward investigating Dancing Rabbit and other similar ecovillages, as well as promoting its mission of community-based sustainability.

Robby playing guitar on the porch of the Mercantile.

In departmental seminars, college lectures, high school assemblies, meetings with municipal urban planners, and even dinner conversations with my friends and family I’ve attempted to explain how residents of Dancing Rabbit have built a fifty-plus member community that generates its own electricity from the sun, cultivates the vast majority of its water from the sky, builds its homes using only recycled and/or locally harvested lumber, recycles all of its organic waste, and survives in rural Missouri with only three shared vehicles.

I returned this summer as both a researcher and an employee at the Milkweed Mercantile Eco Bed & Breakfast—a fascinating business that I will discuss further below. I’m finding that even as a life-long environmentalist and advocate for social change, that daily life at Dancing Rabbit is a challenge. While I am each day more and more encouraged by the successful (and sometimes unsuccessful) experiments in which the “Rabbits” have engaged, I have also encountered the challenges of routine change that come with new, more sustainable ways of living. For example, the amount of electricity I feel comfortable using is heavily dependent upon yesterday’s, today’s and tomorrow’s weather. Even as I type this article, I am reminded of the ‘low’ level of energy available in the community’s common house that has resulted from a rather old and inefficient refrigerator (soon to be replaced!). I’d very much like to wash my clothing at some point this week, but I am finding that this season’s energy shortage may force me to wash my clothing by hand—a relatively time consuming and unfamiliar task to a middle class suburban man.

Everyone's birthday gets celebrated at the Mercantile. This was Grant's day...

My excitement about Dancing Rabbit is, in part, the result of my concern for the long environmental and economic emergency of global climate change. All available information I can access paints a rather pessimist picture in the coming decades. But here’s some good news: I am convinced that the vast majority of the physical technology needed to overcome the humanity’s environmental challenges already exists. Humanity has already invented all of the “stuff”—the solar panels, wind turbines, solar ovens, composting toilets, etc.—that we need to live comfortably and at lower impacts on the earth. The real challenge now is how we use this stuff and how we live together, and this will require some routine change. Routine change is hard.

Overcoming the environmental challenges of the twenty-first century will require lots of it, but I’d personally prefer experimenting with small routine changes now than be forced to make terribly uncomfortable routine changes when, for example, gasoline prices approach $10/gallon, or a new climactic reality overwhelms even our “emergency” resources.

For ideologically motivated folks like the residents of Dancing Rabbit, routine change is the new reality. For the vast majority of humans, however, routine change is a taxing endeavor. I have trouble imagining most of my friends and family living at Dancing Rabbit for even longer than one week, let alone a lifetime. This summer, however, I have been encouraged by my experience at the Milkweed Mercantile Eco Bed & Breakfast (The “Mercantile”) and its role as a “bridge” between the radical routine change in the Dancing Rabbit community and guests exploring new ways to live more “sustainably”. It is only appropriate that such a transitional space would manifest in a B&B. The facility exposes guests to energy, water, food, transportation, heating/cooling, and feeding systems of noticeably different, yet comfortably similar dynamics. A guest at the Mercantile, for example, will find many of the same comforts they would find in any other B&B: clean white sheets, large comfortable beds, impeccably clean bathrooms, a delicious and hearty breakfast, a hot shower, running water, a pleasant selection of cold beer, wireless internet, and yes, light switches connected to functioning lights.

The solar & wind powered Milkweed Mercantile (the porch is still under construction!). That yellow thing in front (in the DR courtyard0 is not a tanning booth, but a community-sized solar oven.

More observant guests, however, will realize that all the electricity is generated by solar panels on-site, all the water is harvested from rain and purified on-site, the air is “conditioned” by straw bale insulated walls, the water is heated in a wood-fire furnace, the food is mostly grown locally, and everything that falls in the toilet is recycled—after a long and careful composting process. Managing such a business and keeping it affordable (under $100/night) for guests is far from conventional. Each morning, for example, my responsibilities include closing the windows of the B&B, a seemingly counter-intuitive routine given the summer’s extreme heat and that the building has no air conditioning unit. But closing the windows effectively traps the cool evening air inside the highly insulated walls so that the air in the inn remains cool relative to the heat outside. Staff at the Mercantile must also monitor rainfall, rotate the compost container, make cooking decisions based on the weather, collect burning material for the water boiler, and make sure to do the inn’s laundry in time for it to dry in the afternoon sun.

Alline and Kurt (aka "The Milkweeds") owners & proprietors of the Milkweed Mercantile.

The owners of the Mercantile (hey! that's us!) comment that a more sustainable living situation does not require deprivation. Indeed, my experience living and working at Dancing Rabbit has exposed me to an abundant, rewarding, and fun lifestyle that simultaneously offers me the chance to be a better global citizen. While I do not expect the world to dive into radically new living practices overnight, I do think that radical change is necessary if we expect to avoid catastrophic change in the next few decades. I’m hopeful that places like Dancing Rabbit and the Milkweed Mecantile can offer solutions that allow humanity to live together peacefully, abundantly, and in good health for millennia to come. I would also encourage any individual, with even the slightest curiosity in environmental innovation, to take a tour of the community and/or spend at night at the inn.

Bye Bye Baloo

Me and Baloo.
Photo by Ramin Rahimian

My best friend died this morning. He was almost 14 years old, and hairy as all get out. He was my Golden Retriever, Baloo.

Baloo being mysterious on a frozen pond.
Photo: Liat Batshira

He didn't start out as mine. He came to Dancing Rabbit with Jess Mund, who, when pregnant and uncertain about where she and her new family would live, agreed to let me have him. It was the very best gift I have ever received, and one for which I will ALWAYS be grateful. Thank you again, Jess.

Kurt and I first met Baloo in June of 1999 when we arrived at DR. We were all living in tents at the time. Every morning Baloo would poke his nose into our tent to say hello. "Oh," we thought, "he likes us best!" Later on we would find that he was an equal opportunity greeter - he stopped by everyone's tent every morning.

Jess was incredibly unselfish about sharing Baloo. As a retriever he was obsessed with sticks and balls and mud clods and rocks and anything else that could be hauled in his mouth from point A to point B. This was an especially fun game in the pond. There were some summers when we wondered if he was mildewing from all of the time he spent in the water.

Playing with Tim Johnson, 2005 (?)

Jess and Baloo had trained to do search and rescue, and since Baloo was the smartest dog on the planet (sorry, I'm a bit biased) he retained much of his early enthusiasm for searching. He wasn't always so great at the actual finding, but that didn't deter him.

Baloo had a secret life that we knew nothing about. Here he is sledding with Ziggy and Thomas.
Photo: Liat Batshira

Baloo was luck to have many, many friends here at Dancing Rabbit. Tom Cowen and Thomas Kortkamp have both spent twokazillion hours playing fetch with him. Sparky was his "au pair" and he adored her. Meadow claimed he was her spiritual leader, and he adored her, too. Actually, Baloo adored everyone, which was part of his charm. He was great with kids, except when he knocked them down with his wagging tail, which was entirely unintentional. He was a great ambassador for Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

"Snow? What's the problem? Get out here and throw something!"

Before Baloo came into our lives, I had always wanted a dog. But not just any dog. I wanted one of those dogs who would hang out with me, be by my side always, not have to be on a leash because we were hanging out together. I didn't think it was actually possible, but Baloo made it so. He decided that I was the one, and everywhere I went, Baloo went, too. People used to joke that they always knew what building I was in because Baloo would be waiting patiently outside. At home, as I roamed from room to room, he did too. (When our cat, Fionn MacCool joined our family, he also joined the parade. Going to the bathroom became a spectator event - all the animals followed me in, sat down, and enjoyed the show. What can I say - we're all easily entertained!). Baloo came with us back and forth across the country many times, on trips to California and Oregon. He was a great traveling companion. He slept at the head of our bed (tucked under the eaves), he would lay by my desk while I worked, and generally never be more than five feet away.

With a toy given to him by a Mercantile guest.
Photo by Sequoia Rock

Kurt likes to say that you can learn all that you need to learn about life from a dog like Baloo. I'm inclined to agree, except for the parts that involve rolling around in dead raccoons.

"Hey, I'll drive!" says Baloo, on his way across the country yet again...

He's been slowing down a lot lately. Two weeks ago he no longer had the strength to get himself out of the pond. We compensated by using the garden hose on him in the afternoons in this horribly hot weather - it seemed to help him cool off a bit. On Thursday morning he refused his food, but did drink water. We talked to the vet who, through a lot of euphimisms, said that if he didn't eat (if we couldn't use a syringe and get some nourishment into him) he might suffer a slow death from starvation. She said that she could make a "farm visit" the next day if we wished. Which meant euthanasia.

Whoever said that balls don't grow on trees clearly had never seen a hedge apple (osage orange) tree. You can imagine Baloo's excitement at discovering such a marvel very close to our house. The only problem was: how to choose?

"OK. I like this one. Throw it please!"

Baloo lay in the Mercantile all day, and then dragged himself back to the cottage - his back legs had pretty much stopped working. He reclined in the same place, on the cool concrete floor for hours. About 3:00 a.m. we had a big thunder storm so I brought a quilt and pillow downstairs (for me) and slept by him - he hated storms. At 8:00 a.m. we called the vet. Word spread, and the loving, caring Rabbits trickled in to say good-bye. There is something tremendously comforting in having so many people love and care for your dog. There were tears, and hugs, and lots of caresses, mostly for Baloo, but for us, too.

We drove back and forth from Missouri to California and back several times. Not only was Baloo a great sport he actually LOVED riding in the car. On this trip Kurt rigged up the luggage in the back seat so that Baloo could ride at our "level," since he was always trying to skooch up into the front seat anyways.

At 11:00 a.m. our very kind vet came by and after a gentle but thorough exam agreed that our decision was the kind and compassionate one. She administered a sedative, and then another injection. In ten minutes Baloo was gone.

Thomas had dug a grave under our solar panels in the garden while we were waiting for the vet. A few of us carried Baloo out, wrapped in a sheet, and buried him with his rubber duck and some flowers. Many people came back and helped cover him with dirt. There were more tears, and hugs.

We'll have a celebration of Baloo on Monday. But I suspect it will take a lot longer to get over the reflex of calling him when I get ready to leave the house, or reaching to pet him before I go to sleep.

Good bye Baloo. I'll miss you, more than you'll ever know.



Us Two
by A. A. Milne

NOTE: Not having the opportunity to ever know Baloo, A.A. Milne wrote this poem (from the view point of Christopher Robin) about Pooh. I have taken quite appalling liberties with this poem to suit my own needs. Somehow, I don't think Mr. Milne would mind...

Wherever I am, there's always Baloo,
There's always Baloo and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Baloo:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Baloo, says he.
"Let's go together," says Baloo.

"What's twice eleven?" I said to Baloo.
("Twice what?" said Baloo to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Baloo.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Baloo, said he.
"That's what it is," said Baloo.

"Let's look for dragons," I said to Baloo.
"Yes, let's," said Baloo to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Baloo.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Baloo, said he.
"That's what they are," said Baloo.

"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Baloo.
"That's right," said Baloo to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Baloo,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Baloo, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."

So wherever I am, there's always Baloo,
There's always Baloo and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Baloo,
"If it wasn't for you," and Baloo said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Baloo, says he.
"That's how it is," says Baloo.

Ready to rumble at a Squire cousin reunion, 2005

I Heart Mary Oliver

Prairie Wildflowers and Grasses
Photo by Grant Steerzer

A friend over at Red Earth Farms just posted on Facebook with a question: If you were to memorize a poem, which would it be?

Someone mentioned A Road Less Traveled by Robert Frost, which I often hear running through my head.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

Talk about great (insert sigh here). Robert Frost is like that - who can walk in the woods and not think "...whose woods are these I think I know..." or, when you have to drag yourself away from somewhere you'd like to stay, the line about "...but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep..." (from Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening).

But one of my favorites has to be The Journey by Mary Oliver:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Oh. So. Delicious.

In other news, life at the ecovillage has been hot but lively. The Inn has been full for two weeks straight, which has kept us exceedingly busy. The work exchangers have been amazing - they see things that need to be done and do them, which has taken an enormous load off of my shoulders. I'm having great fun cooking with Mina, Robby is working hard on making us all (semi) famous, Danae and Jordan are taming the garden and making the place absolutely beautiful, and Katherine is taking care of the inn rooms beautifully. It makes me very happy to watch this all fall into place!

The other night we had an International potluck which began with a game of street cricket, and finished with an amazing array of food. Yum!

Baloo
Photo by Sequoia Rock

Baloo, best dog in the world, continues to get older each day. He can no longer walk all the way to the pond, which is just as well, because his hind legs are no longer strong enough to push him out of the water. It is sad but we have had 14 fantastic years, and each additional day feels like delicious gravy. He and I take slow, short walks, and hang out together a lot. He seems quite content, and still enjoys (very short) games of fetch.

It was too hot for pizza night (we couldn't bear the thought of standing in the kitchen near the oven pumping out 500 degree heat for four hours) so Kurt grilled burgers ("real" and Boca), a bunch of veggies, we steamed up a ton of sweet corn and whipped up several tons of potato salad (recipe tomorrow). It was a big hit, and a nice change from pizza. We're thinking about doing lasagne in the solar oven this Thursday.

The pond at sunset
Photo by Grant Steerzer

That's it for now. I'm kind of in a hurry to get outside - it's 8:22 p.m. and it has finally cooled down. It's fairly quiet out because half of the community has gone down to Columbia to participate in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament. But the birds are singing (a nest with 3 robins about to fledge right outside my window), the kids are laughing, and there is a guitar and singing going on in the courtyard. Time to go, perhaps for a swim and then to join the singing.

More tomorrow.

Reminding Myself Who I Am, or the Forest for the Trees

Hi friends!

Here in Rutledge it is currently 96 degrees ("but it feels like 103!"). We are, and you might be too, in the midst of a freakin' hot summer. To compensate, I am sitting here in front of a fan (with very few clothes on, one of the joys of working from home!) and a big icy Dr. Pepper at hand. Earlier today I met with work exchanger Robby Boyer (not to worry, we were both fully dressed) and brainstormed ways to get the Milkweed Mercantile a little more attention. Our goal - to fill more Inn rooms, bring in a little more green (as Kurt is fond of saying, we're "making tens of dollars!") and spread the good word of sustainability.

Robby, taken last summer on the Mercantile porch. Who knew he'd be back for more?

In thinking about past publicity the Mercantile has received I remembered one of the very first interviews I did. It was with Mike Sowden, who at the time was working for EcoSalon. (Your guess is as good as mine why it is under the "Sex" category - ha!) It was, as always, a blast to be my opinionated self. Rereading it was like getting a shot of adrenalin, or perhaps receiving an incredibly positive kick in the pants.

When one is smack dab in the middle of an all-consuming adventure, one often loses sight of how much has been achieved. One being me, of course.

"Pondage"

So thanks for the reminder. It's time for a swim in the pond, and then back to the Mercantile to prep for Heat Index Grillin' Evening, which is being held in place of pizza night. It's just too damn hot to hang out by a 500 degree oven for five hours!

Keep cool!

Four Year Anniversary

Jess (top row center) and me (middle row, third from left) at the Cousins Reunion, 1989
Also pictured: Yvonne (next to me in blue) and her brother Phil (in front of me in the shiny red jacket)

Four years ago today my only brother died.

I’ve kept busy today – hung out with friends, worked with Robby on Mercantile publicity, did a gazillion loads of laundry, gave a talk on Dancing Rabbit history for a visitor group, canned 10 pints of pickled beets…but always, in the back of my head, was an inescapable sense of loss.

I know I’m not alone – everyone has to deal with the death of loved ones somewhere along the line. As my father used to joke, no one gets out of this world alive. But the process, and the mourning, takes a long time to go away. Perhaps it never does.

Serendipitously, last week my cousin Yvonne and her husband Ronnie dropped by (from Arizona!) to visit. Her brother - my cousin - Philip passed away last year. We are all still blown away by that. I am grateful that the two of us had a (sad and tear-filled but oh-so-comforting) late night conversation and muffin-baking session, followed by lots of hugs. I was reminded, simultaneously, that I am not the only one who has suffered a loss, and that I will always have people who love me in my life, often appearing exactly when I need them to.

I realize that I am very fortunate. I have so many things and people and experiences for which to be thankful. My life is filled with love and laughter and sunshine and a richness that I could only dream of when I was young. But I still find myself wishing I could see many of those I’ve lost just one more time.

My idea of heaven? While I’m not at all religious I envision this: a place where my brother can see how gorgeous and smart and talented his daughters have grown to be. Hanging out with my friend Carter where he can be pain-free and we can garden and laugh together again. Where my friend Todd doesn’t have to wrestle with depression anymore and we can talk for hours about movies and books and words and the joy of language. Where Cindy (and the rest of us!) can find out what exciting thing she will do next. Where Marcia and I can get to the top of Half Dome, instead of her waiting in the valley, out of breath. Where Tamar can find a partner with whom to grow old – and actually be able to do it…(and that’s just the short list...)

One of my very favorite movie scenes is from “Longtime Companion.” Yes, the movie is dated; the mustaches have become 1980’s clichés and the shorts are way too short – but all of that falls away while I watch. Simply imagining the sheer joy that would fill me if I were able to, once again, hold those who I have loved blows me away every single time I watch it.

Thanks for reading. We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow!

PS This particular post doesn't really have anything to do with ecovillage life, except that I live at an ecovillage and this is what I'm thinking today. I realize that my promised columns on death and dying are much delayed - I promise I'll post them soon!

One last thing - Lyrics to the song from above

Postmortem Ball by Zane Campbell

When I cleaned out your room
I painted the walls to cover any memories
But still it seemed like you were hovering over
Still out there keeping an eye on me

Yeah I never really was able to tell you
That's why I'm telling you now that you can't hear
It's not gonna be the same around here without you
And I'm holding back a flood behind one tear

And we'll go down to the post-mortem bar
And catch up on the years that have passed between us
And we'll tell our stories
Do you remember when the world was just like a carnival opening up

I never thought that I would ever see the day
And I don't wanna believe it's true
You were supposed to always be there
And a part of me has died with you

Ceci N'est Pas Un Chapeau (or, Wear a Hat, Get Birthday Cake)

One of the things I love best about living at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is that for your birthday everyone has to do what you say. Perhaps not the most grammatically graceful sentence, but there you are.

I asked for silly hats. And boy, did I get them! Thanks to everyone who played along and wore a hat, silly or otherwise, to celebrate my birthday!

Here are a few samples of what we're wearing here at DR:

Haley, Kyle ("hey, I had a hat, I had a mouse trap - they seemed to go together!") and Dylan

Jordan and Sheila, wearing the latest in box hats.

Tom wearing Cat IN the Hat, Grant sporting a fabulous pink number, and Lise wearing Cat ON the Hat.

Nani modeling her Saltines Hat. In the background, Cos and April (love those feathers!).

Morgan made this stunner himself. Love it!

Maya looking glamorous in the latest Armadillo hat.

Zane, Cynder with a Shoe Hat, and Jennifer & Alex with fabulous foam hats - they looked like castle heads...

Tim and Bethann (whose hat is Fun "E").

Kim looked divine in this lovely colander...

Mercantile Work Exchangers Morag, Jordan & Katherine slinging pizza in silly hat style!

Even Althea got into the spirit of things and wore her (hopefully clean) diaper on her head.

"Abdul" Orsillo kept cool while playing some hoops and eating cake.

Craig cleverly disguised as a British Bobby.

After making three AMAZING Queen of Sheba cakes Julie (shown here with Dan) decided that her shorts would work wonderfully as a hat. And really, who am I to argue?