Uncategorized

One of the first hikes My Captain and I took Critter and Varmint on while at Glacier Nationa Park was called “Hidden Lake.”

This popular 3 mile trek sits alongside the Continental Divide in Glacier Park, and is under snow for most of the year.

Here the kids got first hand glimpses of Alpine and Sub-Alpine Wilderness…and an inkling of how much walking they would be doing for the next two weeks.

It scared them.

But the views during the hike were spectacular.

Bright green alpine grass and wildflowers of every hue, snow so white it was blue, and….wait…

Snow?

Aw, Crap.

I was so excited to embark on our family camping vacation to Montana a couple of weeks ago.  Eagerly anticipating quality family time, free from the distractions of day-to-day modern life, I plunked myself down on a seat at the airline gate to await our flight.  I chose a chair across from my beloveds, and prepared to engage them in meaningful conversation that I just knew would spark growth and curiosity, and deepen our affections for one another.

***SIGH***

I console myself that silence can be golden.

We went to Montana.

Man, that sentence just doesn’t impart the strength, the emotion, the sheer passion of that trip.

WE WENT TO MONTANA!

Pixels are so lame.

We bought a spiffy, ginormous tent for the trip, tested it out beforehand at Grandma Jane’s Orchard, and shipped it ahead of us for a paultry bazillion dollars, so when we arrived in Kalispell, our lodging was there, ready to be set up…. which we accomplished with the efficiency of a well-run bureaucracy.  (Ahem.)

I’m not sure why Critter is giving the Victory sign while holding a tent pole, but I’m certain it is a vital part of the process.

As is, I’m sure, the balancing-the-pole-like-a-Cirque-Du-Soleil-act that he is doing in this shot.

I love the way Varmint’s body language is screaming “How did I get stuck with these morons for two weeks in the wilderness??!!!”  Ah, good times, good times….

This was our view, our back yard, so to speak, for nearly 2 weeks.

And this, our kitchen/dining room.

You’ll note the flowers, thank you very much.  You can take the girl from the city, but you can’t take the Martha Stewart from the girl….or something like that…

You wanna know what one of the best parts about this place is?

You wanna know what it is about the place that makes us come back again and again?

It’s not the hammock, though that doesn’t exactly detract from the allure.

It’s that being together out in the wild reminds us that we have each other to hold onto in this world.  There are fewer distractions from each other.  There are fewer reasons to be away from each other.  There are more reasons to appreciate the teamwork of the family.

There is the thrill of adventure that cannot be found at home in all its domesticity.  Would you just look at the anticipation on this kid’s face?

Memories were made during the last two weeks, I tell you.  The kinds of memories that forge dreams in young boys’ heads…

…..and middle-aged Mamas.

Why, on top of the World with my favorite people!

We went to Glacier National Park in Montana for a couple of weeks of camping and it was glorious!  It was invigorating!  It was educational!

“Educational?” You say?

Yes!  Where else could your stoke your children’s curiosity to ponder questions like, “If I pee on the Continental Divide, what direction will it trickle?”

WE know the answer.

And we ain’t a-tellin.

We sat watching the Chickens, my munchkins and I, as they gobbled up the scraps we fed them this morning.  Tomorrow is our last day as Chicken-sitters, and we are actually pretty sad about it.

It was a beautiful morning; The sun was shining, but we were cool under the shade of the mature trees.  The chickens were clucking quietly, except for RFH (Rooster from Hell) who felt the need to CockleDoodleDo whenever the hens weren’t preening for him.

And my munchkins were getting philosophical.

“Mom? How big are chicken’s brains?”

“I don’t know, love, but judging from their heads, probably the size of a walnut or a large pea.”

“Can we call them ‘pea-brains’?”

“If your feeling especially mean, sure.”

“I wonder what they call us? In chicken language, I mean.”

At which point the RFH Cockledoodledoooed, with an expression on his face that told us whatever he is calling us is especially mean, too.

Varmint then shared with us that she doesn’t like us calling him the RFH.  It doesn’t sit well with her.  So we changed his name to something less insulting.  Not a lot, but a little less insulting:

Samuel MacPoop.

Samuel MacPoop, the Especially Mean Rooster.

And we named one of the Hens “Einstein”, because she was the only one in the coop who figured out how to break into a cocoa-puff.  We were pretty darn impressed with her and praised her and encouraged the others to emulate her.

Yessir, we sure will miss the entertainment of Chicken-sitting.  We’ve gotten used to hanging out with those silly creatures every morning. We’ve come to love the philosophical questions their existence raise.

But between you and me, I don’t think the chickens give a damn.