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There is something amazingly refreshing about breaking away from the day-to-day routine. About abandoning everyday life and stepping into nature. Changing the scenery and changing the pace. Leaving behind cell phones, laptops, and obligations.
Over Memorial Day weekend we traded our house and our bed for a tent and sleeping bag. Our neighbors were towering hemlocks and an expanse of blue sky and matte clouds served as a roof. We gathered with family around a picnic table instead of a kitchen table and laughed by the flickering light of the campfire instead of a TV. It was our annual Memorial family camping weekend.
The weekend is a collection of activities strung together by custom and popular vote, and the atmosphere is relaxed, where at anytime, anyone can opt out of the current adventure to swing lazily in a hammock kept company by the dogs.
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Being Milani's first camping trip, I wasn't sure how she would like it, but girlfriend rocked it!
She enjoyed time with Grandma Debbie, accumulating hugs and kisses and cuddles.
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Sunday afternoon we hiked over wooden bridges and past thorny brambles to set eyes on Little Falls, debating over the identity of each three leaved plant along the path (Poison Ivy), and the species of origin of a pile of...droppings (Bear).
I was sure that Milani would have been rocked to sleep on Jon's back as we hiked, but those big chocolate eyes didn't miss a thing.
She lounged in the carrier, comfortable as could be, and took everything in.
We finished our hike next to the lake and enjoyed our picnic lunch with our eyes glued to the treeline, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the resident bald eagles prowling for fish.
So we busted out the lighter and stoked the campfire to cook our ceremonious feast of burgers and dogs. The picnic table was loaded with a smorgasbord and we heaped our plates with pasta salad, green salad, and fruit salad, nibbling on pretzels and chips and Memorial Day cookies.
Despite the gross amount of food we consume at dinner, as soon as the sun dips below the horizon we break out the marshmallows, Hershey's bars, and graham crackers. We share our tips on roasting the perfect 'mallow, and making the best s'more, and play musical chairs to avoid the campfire smoke. We take turns throwing wood on the fire, and poking the embers, and discussing how each log burns. We share new stories and recite familiar old stories that still produce an eruption of laughter, until one by one we retreat to our tents.
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We drifted to sleep under a clear star filled sky, and Milani slept like a log until we awoke at 3:45 to distant thunder, and managed to cover the tent minutes before the rain came. The wind howled through the trees and the rain fell in sheets, and I worried my girl would get frightened. I worried this thunderstorm would make her hate tents and sleeping bags and all things camping related, but she proved me so wrong. Sister just snuggled in close to me, clinging like a koala, and listened to the storm. Her big eyes scanned the tent and watched quietly as it bowed in the wind, never a peep or whimper or cry, and just as soon as the storm started to pass she fell peacefully back to sleep until 8:30. (Why doesn't she sleep like this at home??)
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Monday morning we headed back to the lake with fishing poles and some of us actually fished, displaying the patience and persistence of reeling and casting, watching and waiting.
And the rest of us just watched and played and savored the fresh air.
I'm not sure how many years an annual event must occur before it can be titled tradition, but if our Memorial weekend family camping trips haven't hit tradition status yet, I sure hope they will. I hope maybe Milani will someday fondly look back on the memories forged on our weekends in the woods; the laughter, and hikes, and time spent with family. Sure someday she will be sharing her own funny stories around a campfire, but maybe they'll include stories born on some future Memorial weekend where she and her cousins laughed until they cried. Maybe our family camping trips will transcend the title traditional, and truly embrace Memorial.
There is something amazingly refreshing about breaking away from the day-to-day routine. About abandoning everyday life and stepping into nature. Changing the scenery and changing the pace. Leaving behind cell phones, laptops, and obligations.
Over Memorial Day weekend we traded our house and our bed for a tent and sleeping bag. Our neighbors were towering hemlocks and an expanse of blue sky and matte clouds served as a roof. We gathered with family around a picnic table instead of a kitchen table and laughed by the flickering light of the campfire instead of a TV. It was our annual Memorial family camping weekend.
********************************************************************************************************
Being Milani's first camping trip, I wasn't sure how she would like it, but girlfriend rocked it!
She jacked her crawl into four wheel drive and scoped out the campsite, scavenging under the picnic table for treasures, examining the underside of rocks, and sifting fine gray dirt through her fingers.
And tried out some new shades.
Big cousins taught little cousins how to throw, and catch, and the way to blow bubbles.
Big cousins showed little cousins how to hug and kiss and love on each other.
And cousins exchanged tumbling fits of contagious laughter.
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Sunday afternoon we hiked over wooden bridges and past thorny brambles to set eyes on Little Falls, debating over the identity of each three leaved plant along the path (Poison Ivy), and the species of origin of a pile of...droppings (Bear).
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Certainly no camping trip would be complete without the men tapping into their caveman instincts, attempting valiantly and exhaustively to start a fire by rubbing sticks together. Their best efforts produced a few promising wisps of white smoke, but no glowing embers or orange flames. 
Despite the gross amount of food we consume at dinner, as soon as the sun dips below the horizon we break out the marshmallows, Hershey's bars, and graham crackers. We share our tips on roasting the perfect 'mallow, and making the best s'more, and play musical chairs to avoid the campfire smoke. We take turns throwing wood on the fire, and poking the embers, and discussing how each log burns. We share new stories and recite familiar old stories that still produce an eruption of laughter, until one by one we retreat to our tents.
********************************************************************************************************
We drifted to sleep under a clear star filled sky, and Milani slept like a log until we awoke at 3:45 to distant thunder, and managed to cover the tent minutes before the rain came. The wind howled through the trees and the rain fell in sheets, and I worried my girl would get frightened. I worried this thunderstorm would make her hate tents and sleeping bags and all things camping related, but she proved me so wrong. Sister just snuggled in close to me, clinging like a koala, and listened to the storm. Her big eyes scanned the tent and watched quietly as it bowed in the wind, never a peep or whimper or cry, and just as soon as the storm started to pass she fell peacefully back to sleep until 8:30. (Why doesn't she sleep like this at home??)
********************************************************************************************************
Monday morning we headed back to the lake with fishing poles and some of us actually fished, displaying the patience and persistence of reeling and casting, watching and waiting.
But some of us just fished for seaweed, and tossed pebble after pebble into the rippling water.