What's better than taking a dip in a pristine and placid glacial lake?
Coloring and snacking in the woods with your best buds?
Starting your day dressed like this...
... and ending like this?
Literally sinking into warm, soft sand?
Flirting?
And kisses'?
Goofy smiles?
Potty training in the woods?
(Yes, Phoebe has decided that she is totally determined to use the potty like her big sister. And this little whipper snapper is about 95% trained at 171/2 months. Yee ha!!!)
Sandy mountain lake beaches?
Her first foray with graham crackers?
A veteran with the s'mores?
Or this nightly scene?
We had a fabulous time camping at Baker Lake during Brian's week off. The girls were total troopers as we survived one of the most torrential downpours of my life. They constantly reminded us to be in the now. Any temptation to fret over keeping dry or adhering to nap schedules was thwarted as they would swiftly and comically remind us to drop everything in search of salmon berries (aka "yummies" as Phoebe says) or to throw rocks in the water. I used to think hiking and camping without kids was the only way I could really connect with nature and feel that silent solace only known in the woods. But I'm slowly learning that kids help me connect with that almost more deeply. You've got to just accept the good (bullfrogs singing in chorus as the sheets of rain kept us adults up all night) and the bad (well.... there really wasn't any) and smile at how absurdly beautiful this part of the world is.
We had a fabulous time camping at Baker Lake during Brian's week off. The girls were total troopers as we survived one of the most torrential downpours of my life. They constantly reminded us to be in the now. Any temptation to fret over keeping dry or adhering to nap schedules was thwarted as they would swiftly and comically remind us to drop everything in search of salmon berries (aka "yummies" as Phoebe says) or to throw rocks in the water. I used to think hiking and camping without kids was the only way I could really connect with nature and feel that silent solace only known in the woods. But I'm slowly learning that kids help me connect with that almost more deeply. You've got to just accept the good (bullfrogs singing in chorus as the sheets of rain kept us adults up all night) and the bad (well.... there really wasn't any) and smile at how absurdly beautiful this part of the world is.
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