Portrait in Linen

If one kid’s late, everybody’s late for the rest of the day.  I didn’t consider adding in “buffer time” between activities, allowing for the gross increase in traffic this city’s seen over the past three months (Ridiculous.  Obviously, the economy’s doing very, very well, but it’s like metropolitan hypertension–more gunk in the arteries, triple-bypass in order.  I wonder if they’ve got the tax money for that procedure.).

After spending 3:00 to 7:00 in the van, Miner loaded up everyone to dash over Rocky and I to the performing arts center to see 1984 (The Actors’ Gang, L. A.).  Awesome adaptation of the book.  It was just a bit tough to muscle past all the F’s and S’s, the implied nudity, the sexuality, and the prolonged torture scenes.  But it was definitely worth forcing Rocky to speed-read in time to see the play.

(And oh! I’m so excited!  I have it on good authority Their Eyes Were Watching God is coming in March or April!  Fantastic!)

So Halloween is breathing down my neck.  Won’t have a repeat of last year’s last-minute sewing rush.  Thankfully, the kids have opted for reruns and/or store-bought.

• Rocky - hobo (That won’t be hard.  That shaggy head of his is perfect, which is why he chose it.)
• Prissy - store-bought princess
• Bunny - rerun of Snow Queen, made by Grandmummy last year
• Mo - princess, rerun of the costume I made for her for the Cinderella play this summer
• Squeak - spy kid–black leggings over long-sleeved black leotard, knit beanie and dark glasses I found at the dollar store.  Will have to poke around the house to find a couple more “spy-like” accessories.

Book Festival in B. R. this weekend.  I so wanted to take them to that, but I just don’t know if I’m going to have the energy and heart to do it after this nutty week.  The main reason I want to take them is because children’s author Jeanette Downing will be there.  The kids met her in Barnes & Noble last year.  We bought her book, Today is Monday, and she spent a good twenty minutes or so talking to them and teaching them the song to the book, which they’ve sung virtually non-stop since that day.  It would be such a treat to get them together again.

And it also reinforces an appreciation for literature, from the author as a person, to her inspiration, to the writing, to the press, to the bookstore, to the hands of kids just like them.  You can’t buy that kind of experience.

If I don’t take them, I know I’ll regret it.  Can I live with that?  I may have to, depending on whether or not I’m utterly spent by Friday night.

—

Yes, I’m stressed, which is why I’m sitting here typing like a fever at 1:04 AM.  The house is (still) a wreck.  I haven’t had half a chance to put a dent in it since we got back from camping.  Miner’s still got the camping gear all over the living room, and the bedroom smells like a BBQ because I haven’t had a chance to wash the clothes from the weekend.

Funny.  Sitting in the theatre waiting for the lights to dim, I had strange flashbacks from camping, and I finally realized why when I leaned over to say something to Rocky and caught a whiff of the firepit on his jacket.  Canvas soaks up smoke like nothing else.  “You gotta wash that, kiddo.”

—

And I feel so guilty.  I have such admiration for Homeschooling Heroine (local group organizer).  She’s a shining role model for homeschooling moms.  Crazy credentials, energy, charisma, motivation, ingenuity that seems to come straight from Heaven.  And her kids are simply stellar in every conceivable way.  And–naturally–she appears to do it effortlessly.

Intellectually, I KNOW no two homeschooling families are alike.  Each does things its own way, suited to its own needs and God-given talents.  And I often feel very good about all we’ve accomplished and what good kids we have.  But still, standing in Heroine’s beaming radiance casts a heavy shadow on all we seem to be lacking, and of course, I take responsibility for that and begin thinking of all we’re doing wrong.

It’s nonsense, I know.  But very, very hard to reconcile.  “Potential” is such a big, terrible, ugly word, and it can turn living dreams to nightmares if uttered in a particular meeting of contexts.

Heroine, you are truly an inspiration.  God has blessed you with an amazing gift for teaching and nurturing.  I could only hope to be half the mother you are.

God, help me to the be the best mother You intend for me to be.

Day 1

We made it. Pressed through the challenge of planning, shopping, packing, scouting, and setting up camp.

It’s early evening. The stream here seems to fuss and cry beyond the clay rock clearing where we’ve set up camp. Frogs, crickets, grasshoppers twilling from the mosaic of shadows and brush. I knew it would be this peaceful.

I recognize this place. It’s much changed from the afternoon Miner brought me here over 10 years ago. I think we shared a smoke, screwed…I can’t remember. We were always smoking and screwing in the woods.

The kids each have their nature journals and a brand new pack of colored pencils. And a disposable camera. We’re all writing now, in our own little peaceful corners. Miner’s got the camcorder…doing what men do best–video-taping things.

I wish we could stay longer than three days….

And another surprise–no mosquitoes.

—–

Day 2

Good grief. We absolutely froze last night. Even with thermals, sleeping bags, hats, closed tent–seven people smooshed together like sardines, we were still cold. I didn’t mind the hard ground. I think I’m able to sleep comfortably that way because my back’s straight as a board. And I’m most comfortable on my stomach anyway. Plenty of padding there, ha ha. But the cold….

I pulled the drawstring around my face so the hole was just big enough for me to breathe. The warm air was trapped inside, head covered so no heat could escape. I slept all right, all things considered.

But waking up and having to crawl out of the sleeping bag to change–that was miserable.

Breakfast was great. Coffee from a pot. Ham and eggs fried over the fire with sausage gravy on wheat bread. Hit the spot! Not the same as Dad’s S.O.S., but still yummy. Hot food like that tastes so much better in the frigid wild.

After breakfast, Miner took the kids down to the creek while I cleaned up. They fished, and Bunny caught a brim–her first fish. Squeak caught her first not long after that.

Miner took us downstream to look for petrified wood. Squeak fell in and was shivering to pieces, so I brought her back. We hung out by the fire pit and talked about how to use a compass, the cardinal directions (she did pretty well for a five-year-old), while Rocky enjoyed his solitude, fishing and catching and throwing back because they were too small (again).

Almost time for lunch. It seems the day stretched by. It feels like 5:00, but it’s only about 1:00. Guess this must be how the Native Americans and Native Hawaiians lived out their days, by the sun. I can see how naturally I might adjust to a dawn-to-dusk routine, if outdoors were so easily accessible and meshing with life as I know it. I think I’d like a nap.

Sunset: No nap. Prissy and I went foraging for firewood instead. Doesn’t sound very eventful, but on the contrary, it was so interesting, trying to pick out fallen dead oak that’s just the right thickness, instead of the twiggy pine that crackles and saps and smokes in the fire. Then Miner came trudging through the forest with his axe–”The Looming Lumberjack”–no fallen tree shall go undiscovered….

—–

Things to Do Better/Bring Next Time:

. air mattresses
. brown clothes!
. beef jerky
. more water
. better shovel
. upright chairs (instead of fold-out-forever lawn chairs)
. tarp for tent porch
. dish tub and scrubber
. live well
. no overalls!
. feetie pajamas
. chain saw

We’re home. I’m cold, sick, sore, sunburned, and exhausted, but very, very grateful and happy. It was a wonderful camping trip, but I can’t entirely enjoy the immediate aftermath of the excursion for how rotten I feel. I hoped I’d be able to sit down and record my recollections in true journalistic fashion, but all I can think about is my sore throat and the night time medicine I just took, and when it’s going to kick in.

We contemplated staying another night, and I think we really would have, except Prissy and Mo started to get sick, Bunny coughed all night last night, and Mo got a mystery injury on her toe that swelled to the size of a plum. She said she kicked a rock in the creek, but I think something stung her.

So, all the kids caught their first fish this weekend. Rocky reeled in 3 or 4, but he’s convinced they were all the same scrawny little brim. Of all of the kids, I think Bunny has most taken to fishing. First thing in this morning, while it was still hovering around 40 degrees, she left the fire to go freeze at the creekside and try to catch something. That girl is determined.

The girls filled their buckets half full of petrified wood. Of all the things Miner wanted to do, that was what he most looked forward to–a throwback from his pup days puttering around in the woods behind his house while all the other boys in the neighborhood rode their bikes and antagonized the other neighborhood kids.

We ate SpaghettiOs for brunch. We had all the fixin’s for a repeat of the hearty sausage-gravy-mush-mountain-thing we ate the first morning, but it was just too derned cold, and it was all we could do to open the cans and wait for the pasty-pasta mixture to heat up. Last night, dinner was pork roast, red potatoes, and carrots slow-cooked over the fire all evening. Delicious!

For lunch today, Miner cooked up boudin in foil. Never had it with the skin crispy like that. It was great.

Last night around the campfire, we played 20 Questions and Movie Sharades. Squeak fell asleep in her chair.

Wildlife: We saw a praying mantis; a fat, hairy, horned green caterpillar (which we have yet to identify, but Prissy thinks it’s a moth, because it’s furry); a king snake, a bee hive, a large turtle, and armies of Daddy Longlegs. Last night, we heard coyotes and owls.

We slept to the sound of the gurgling creek rapids. Full moon rising up through the forest lattice. Open sky and dotted stars. A hawk screeching and circling above. Morning mist on the water and God-rays spearing through the treetops.

Such silence…

Except in the cold night–violent rifle cracks–some lone and echoing, others in quick succession. Maybe that’s why a road is named “Doe Ridge.” Sad.

Our site had several, several magnolia trees growing wild among the pines, oaks, and cypress. Wish I could see them when the pods are on them, or when the blooms are full. Bet the smell is intoxicating.

Other impressions…

A fallen tree bridge. Brilliant red leaves turning at the season. “Warmth fire” and “cooking fire.” Toilet stand in plain, vulnerable view, and trips to use it, with an escort.

Beef jerky. Pringles. Cereal bars. S’mores. Apples that were supposed to be sprinkled with cinnamon, wrapped, and baked over the fire, but were eaten fresh and sour.

Photos haven’t come back from the developers just yet. We gave each kid a disposable camera with 27 shots they had to ration over three days. Naturally, the digital ran out of batteries early on the second day because someone (me) accidentally left it on, so we only got video from the first part of the trip. Thankfully, we were able to shoot each of the kid’s first fish and record their ecstatic reactions. That was worth it.

I got each member of the family a memory photo album today with just enough pockets to fit the prints of the trip. Miner and I will choose our favorites, print them out: Family’s First Camping Trip.

We’ve already decided we’re going camping again as soon as winter begins to wear off. I expect we might even go as often as once every other month. I don’t dare take the kids camping when he’s gone, but I’ve made up my mind to take advantage of the nature station here. From what I understand, they have great hiking trails, and lots of on-site resources on flora and fauna. We can leave in the morning, hike till lunch, eat in the forest park, then make our way back. A nice nature day we could easily do once a month.

This family first has really opened up doors for us. Rocky truly enjoyed himself. He worked hard, enjoyed the peace as well as the hardship, which is profoundly meaningful in a teenager’s life. I think this is going to be one of those memories that stays with us for the rest of our lives, a touchstone of family joy.

Truth be told: We didn’t own one scrap of camping gear. No tents. No sleeping bags. No fishing poles.

M. started the list two weeks ago. We compared that to the list I found on About.com. Quite overwhelming. List sub-headers: Shelter & Bedding, Cooking & Dining, Clothes, Personal Hygiene, Cleaning, First Aid, Chuck Box, Misc.

Academy carries just about everything on either list, and then some. Walking in and venturing beyond the sweats and yoga pants is a bit disorienting. To the untrained eye, the hooks and knives and pokers and stranglers and hackers and pinchers all begin to look alike in their cruel, sadistic potential. But to a sportsman, every little thing has its purpose, its order in the grand scheme of glorious primitive camping.

The first few aisles of fishing equipment gave me a sense of adventure and discovery. The lures and nets were exciting and new. But by the time we got to the rods and reels, I was ready to be done and grab a Caramel Macchiato. I knew better, though. We had a long way to go.

Camping Clothes
I’ve been wrestling with the clothing issue. I knew the females would need some comfortable clothes to camp in, and our skirts just won’t do. Still, I haven’t accepted jeans into the wardrobe. I did agree to look for overalls (don’t know why that seems more acceptable than jeans do), but the only overalls I could find were the thick brown canvas kind.

We ended up getting some water-resistant exercise pants–the kind with detachable sections to allow two or three different lengths. The ones we chose are perfect. One zipper just below the knee, for wading and fishing. One zipper just above the knee, for swimming. Or, we can wear them full-length for early morning and evening hours when there’s a nip in the air.

I also got them each a fleece jacket. I doubt they’ll need anything heavier than that this weekend, but in case it’s chilly after all, the fleece will be comfy and warm. And easily laundered when we get back.

Haven’t taken care of the shoes yet, but we’ll probably just go with a pair of waders for fishing, and a pair of black slip-on sneakers for everything else. Those are super-cheap, comfortable, and durable enough for three days in the rough. We do