Campfire

Cracklin' fire
Neath' a canopy of trees
Big bright moon
Shining in between the leaves

Pitch black sky
'Cept a smathering of stars
Break out the bubbly

And the cuban cigars

Breathe in deep
All that smoky cedar wood
This is nature at its finest

Life has never been so good!

 

Blogger friend Debby kindly let me post her poem which I thought summed up most of our campfires so well!  Check out her blog...

http://poetryandparadise.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=7

 

Just a Boy

I was reminded of this poem today.  When I was expecting my first (a boy) my sister copied a poem found at Durgin Park in Boston.  I have it packed away...somewhere!  I managed to find it online.
 
Just a Boy
Get to understand the lad,
He's not eager to be bad.
If the right he always knew,
He would be as old as you.
Were he now exceedingly wise,
He'd be just about your size.
When he does things that annoy,
Don't forget he's just a boy.
Could he know and understand,
He would need no guiding hand.
But he's young and hasn't learned,
How life's corners must be turned.
Doesn't know from day to day,
There is more to life but play.
More to face than selfish joy,
Don't forget he's just a boy.
Being just a boy he'll do much,
You will not want him to.
He'll be careless in his ways,
Having his disobedient days.
Willful, wild and headstrong too,
He'll need guidance, kind and true.
Things of value he'll destroy,
But reflect - he's just a boy.


Just a boy and Me.

 Just a boy who needs a friend,
Patient, kindly to the end.
Needs a father who will show him,
The things he wants to know.
Take him with you when you walk,
Listen when he wants to talk.
His companionship enjoy -
Don't forget he's just a boy

~author unknown

Swedish Bread

  I'm making Swedish bread.  It was one of my grandmother's recipes.  We aren't Swedish, but Gram was known far and wide for her Swedish coffee bread.  It is spoken of in hushed tones and with reverence.  Not all family members have made it successfully, creating questions.  Was the recipe obtained from the original source?  Was there something left out?  Why did hers turn out, and mine didn't?  Government documents are handled with less care!
  As a child, I remember my grandmother being a very busy woman!  She was the mother to seven sons, the youngest being only four years older than me.  She also worked nights as a nurse in a hospital for the mentally ill.  She earned the title "General" and wore it proudly.  But when we were kids, she didn't have a lot of extra time for me.  She was still busy raising her family, and doing it on her own after my grandfather passed.  When she did have time, we had already moved away.  I always wished we lived closer, like the other cousins did.  And as an adult, I wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have her so close by.
  My grandmother would make a yearly "Great Lakes Tour".  I remember her doing this several years in a row when I was newly married.  She would visit family in the Cleveland area, come through Michigan, then off to see relatives in upstate NY.  I loved that she would always spend a night or two with me!  We would sit up late at night (usually with Kahlua and milk!) and she would tell me stories.  She would tell me of her courtship with my grandfather.  Visiting an aunts farm and sleeping in the summer kitchen.  She'd tell me about raising her family.  I can picture her sitting on our chair in the corner, and our dog (a Boxer named Newt) climbing up on Grams lap for some love!  She was a dog person!!  And I would keep asking questions until the wee hours of the morning!  I loved hearing of her life.  I made time for her, and she for me. 
   I was fortunate because I got to know her as an adult.  Something most people don't have the opportunity to do with a grandparent.  I got to know her far more intimately than I did as a child.  And when she came to visit, she taught me how to make Swedish Coffee Bread.  She would make it at holidays, and give it away, taking orders from all over the country.  It's with sweet memories of late night conversations that I make bread for Easter morning.
 


Gram and I (1990)



That's My King: Do You Know Him?

Definately a favorite.  Especially at Easter! 

 "For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; 

The flowers appear on the earth; 

the time of the singing of birds is come, 

and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; 

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, 

and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell." 

~ Song of Solomon 2:11-13 ~

Anticipation!



4th of July several years ago.  Just a little bonfire on the beach!

    I love spring.  It's not that I love this muddy season where you have to wipe the dogs paws every time you let him in the house, I love the anticipation that comes with spring.  Kinda like the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, only with the 4th of July being the highlight!
  We will head north in a few weeks, bringing with us everything that we cleaned out of the camper last deer season.  (Deer season:  Christmas with guns!)  Fresh sheets, beach towels, supplies I can leave up there without worrying that they will freeze.  And I'll clean the camper,  (I think I keep it cleaner than my house!)  to make it ready for the summer season.
  Easter is always fun in the north woods.  It's like the "Kick Off" for the "Up North" camping season.  We have a fifth wheel that we keep up there.  I can't complain at all!  It's bigger than a lot of NYC apartments.  With all the comforts of home.  Still, it does present a challenge for the "Easter Bunny".  While there are a lot of nooks and crannies to hide a basket, one doesn't want to attract unwelcome visitors.  I HATE mice!  The Easter Bunny, (always up for a challenge) one year hid the baskets IN THEIR BUNKS!  Under their covers no less!!  I thought they'd never find them.  We still talk of the best hiding place ever.  Who'd have thought?
  We'll take out the quads.  Check the trails for any downed branches winter storms may have caused.  Confirm that every one's deer blind is still standing.  Peek in the windows of hunting cabins since they are virtually abandoned this time of year.  Start collecting wood for our summer campfire stash...and then a little extra for the week Pa comes to visit.  (He makes a white man's fire!)  We'll spend time surveying the marina.  It doesn't officially open up until Memorial Day weekend, and for a time, it belongs to us!  We'll walk the beach looking for chunks of shipwreck still finding their way to the shores of the Great Lakes, a reminder of when ships were made of the timber found in the nearby forests.  We'll pop in on the neighbors.  Permanent residents and the seasonal folks who have managed to escape the city for the holiday.  Find out how everyone fared through the winter.
   In a few weeks, I will have my family all to myself.  Planning our summer adventures!  Evenings around a campfire with nothing but good conversation to amuse us!  So, while everyone heads south for spring break, we'll head for the quiet of the north woods!

Peter Pan Lives at My House

  As I've mentioned before, I have homeschooled all my children, my oldest up 'till 9th grade when we put him in High School (football!).  My children haven't been exposed to many things other children have.  And that's good!  That's why we chose to homeschool.  My youngest has a tendency to be especially naive.  It's part of his charm!  He is in 6th grade.
  Shortly after Christmas, he questioned me as to how I think Santa pulls off his big gig.  I told him I didn't know, but I was sure he had a lot of help.  I thought, perhaps now is the time for "that" conversation.  I turned down the car radio and asked, "How do you think he does it?  Have any of your friends said anything?  Like...maybe mom or dad put out the presents?"  He looked at me with shock and a little amusement.  "There's NO WAY Dad could be Santa!  Where would he make the presents?  If he were, I would be in charge of the reindeer!!!!"  I turned the radio back up.  This was not the time for "that" conversation!
  Fast forward to the Easter season.  I had just been to the store and picked up some things to fill baskets.  I left them in the trunk of my car and promptly forgot about them.  The youngest happened upon them!  (He's got to be putting 2 and 2 together...)  Again in the car, I turn down the radio.  "E, you know I put those things in the baskets, right?"  E, "Yeah...."  Still not seemingly putting 2 and 2 together I blurt out, "E, there is no Easter Bunny."  He looked at me and his bottom lip started to quiver, big crocodile tears rolled down his face.  Oh my gosh, WHAT have I done?!  "Really?"  He asked.  "Then what about the Tooth Fairy and Santa?"  Knowing that he did NOT want to hear it, and not being ready for more drama myself, I said, "Well that's different!  They are people.  And the Easter Bunny is an animal!"  (Don't judge!!!)  For the next 10 minutes, he sat silently, with tears rolling down his face.  "What about the bunny tracks we saw at Aunties house?"   He finally asked.  Realizing what a mistake I had made, loving his innocence, and my heart breaking for him, I answered "I don't know how the prints got there."  (Parents in my sisters neighborhood strategically place chalk bunny prints along the sidewalks.)  "I've learned from this" he said "not to make the same mistake with my kids.  I'm not telling them anything!"  Once home, he lay down on the couch and told me he'd like to forget this day ever happened.
  Dad saved the day.  "I told you he wasn't ready!" he said to me.  This from a man who will never admit to knowing the real identity of Santa.  He smoothed things over that evening while I was at work.  Explaining to E. that mom does put some things in the basket (not all).  But he (dad) does believe.  E. seemed willing to accept Dads explanation.  Critics may say that entertaining these fantasies isn't healthy.  Really?  The rest of us seemed to turn out okay.  It's the desire for simpler, carefree, childhood days that we yearn for.  He will know the truth soon enough.  I'm sure he has his inklings.  For now, I will let him enjoy his childhood. He'll have plenty of time to deal with grown up issues.  He's not quite ready to give it up just yet, and who can blame him?