After three years of not camping, we decided it was time to camp with our kiddos. This time around, we had a fun little camp trailer and an arthritic, retired work dog, so it felt just like our family is really grown up.
Officially.
Before heading out, I went to yoga and stretched and folded and reached and fell a little.
Once out in the wild (it took FOR.EV.ER to get on the road), I whipped up some sandwiches to eat before we went out evening fishing. I made a bunch of regular sandwiches and two gluten free sandwiches for me. I ate one and was pretty full. My husband wasn’t full, though, and eyeballed my sandwich.
“Are you going to eat that?”
“I’m full,” I said, “I was going to put it in a zip-loc for tomorrow.”
“Oh…”
“Unless YOU’RE still hungry…”
“Thanks!”
One bite. One chomp.
“Um, you can go ahead and put it in a zip-loc, and babe?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry you’re gluten free.”
So apparently my palate is dead?
We saw some deer on our way out to the lake and the kids flipped out -as if the deer somehow made the camping trip REAL.
Trent and Alice worked on building a rock castle because fishing was turning out to be a bust.
Bronco kept a watchful eye over us all.
And the whole thing felt very American… a Dad, a son, a dog, a fishin’ pole:
I watched the ripples on the lake and was reminded of how life sometimes feels like that -messy and dramatic when all we see is the surface… a hidden, peaceful haven hidden underneath, only accessible to those willing to take the dive:
And Bobby Frost was there -how badly I WANTED to read and analyze “The Mending Wall” but having a toddler by a lake doesn’t leave much time for analytical reading. Or reading at all, come to think of it.
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