Having coffee this morning with nothing much on the agenda today. It feels nice.
So the transition to fall routines commenced this week. Camp closed out a spectacular summer last Friday and I spent Saturday with the staffies rollerskating and celebrating. It was good.
I don’t use the word spectacular lightly either, camper numbers up 11% and a great summer and our annual donations looking good and three new cabins in place and some amazing growth from the kids here and I mean both the campers and the staff. Feeling like a winner right now and I’m going to try to hold on to that feeling for a while but I’ll have more on that later.
Sunday saw us packing up for what is quickly (and rather deliberately on my part) becoming a family tradition: The OlfertWiens Late August Family Backpacking trip!
So the chaos of “Where is your jacket?” and “Did you pack your toothbrush?” and “Ok, who touched my headlamp and where did they leave it?” and then four very excited boys (I count myself in that group) into the truck with Grandma and Grandpa Wiens who have graciously agreed to join us once again and off down the road.
After stops at Dairy Queen (did I mention that Grandma Wiens as along?) and then some groceries and then some more road we arrive at the trailhead and shoulder our loads. Mine as big as ever when the boys are along what with four of everything including sleeping bags (thank heavens for compression sacks) and pads and all the cooking and eating gear and the tent and the etc. etc. and I stagger a little under my implausibly loaded pack but the trail is short and my legs are strong enough.
There’s a twist this year with my boys jogging on ahead and needing to call them back rather than needing to encourage them and hold hands and what a difference a year can make when you are 8 and 4 and 4. My boys charge up the trail with (almost) no whining and arrive, fresh and excited at our backcountry home for the next few days. I’m not so fresh, but still excited and next year those tykers will be carrying more stuff and bigger packs because I need to slow them down somehow.
And then? And then nothing. No schedule. No bells to ring. No meals to make it on time for. No other people’s kids to fret about. No staff to role model for. Nothing.
Well almost nothing because there is fishing and hiking and exploring and frisbee and ninja (Never played? You’re missing out) and rock skipping and sitting by the campfire (yup, it’s THAT kind of backcountry campground) and eating good food when we are hungry and drinking good coffee with cream (yup, it’s THAT kind of trip) and joy. Lots and lots of joy.
It is a joy to soak in the time with my kids after months of seeing them in glances. It is a joy to visit with the family and friends who have joined us on our annual invasion of Elbow Lake. And it is a great joy for me to see that my kids love this and want to do more and a joy to think I might be succeeding at teaching them to love the things that I feel so much passion about.
On the second night I step away from a lonely campfire with most of the crew headed out and Grandma and Grandpa taking a late night stroll around the lake and watch the glow of the moonrise grow over the ridge behind our little tent. As with many things in life, the anticipation goes on for what seems to be forever and then in what seems like moments, the moon shooting bright and blinding into the night sky.
I don’t know if I’ve ever watched a moonrise before. I generally lack the patience to sit still long enough to soak in the full power of these events but it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. There are lessons in there about patience, anticipation and reward though it may take me a while to fully grasp them.
The next day took us home (with a quick stop at the DQ of course, earned this time) and back to the reality of the next ten months of life. Nik started work last week and couldn’t come on our little adventure and that wasn’t a problem last year due to her aversion to bear country and sleeping in tents but this year she laments that the timing was bad and next year maybe we can put it together so she can join us and this is good news to me.
School started yesterday and that brought with it the usual first-day-of-school pictures and the usual discovery of who the new teacher is and where you sit in the new room. I talked to the piano teacher, the babysitter and pencilled in the first day of preschool and we are well on our way down the path to normalcy it seems.
Tonight the blue moon rises and that seems about right to me. The moon that I watched crest the mountain ridge, the moon that blinded my night eyes, the moon that looked over us as we slept in our little tent truly is as rare as it felt to me that night by the lake.