My daughters and I have a tradition of taking a summer camping holiday. We haven't made it every year the past decade or so, but most. This year we went to Mt. Rainier. Oh, the joy!Three moments stand out:
First daughter and I walk along Sourdough Ridge, stopping to admire the views and wildflowers. She waits patiently as I pose scenery into pictures. We have time and place to appreciate together both our love of nature, and our pleasure in scuffhuffling up and down this rocky spine.
Second daughter follows me in creating balanced sculptures from among the river rocks. It’s something I have done for years, happily addicted to the tactile stimulation of the stones’ grain and heft. Add to that the concentration required to make subtle shifts to maintain balance...all while in a land of shattering beauty and vastness. What’s not to love?
After dinner I make a perfect fire. As the air turns chill, we chat until darkness seems to have suddenly developed around us. My daughters are separated by ten years and different mothers, but share a love of S’mores. They compare marshmallow roasting strategies while I facilitate. The crackling of the fire, the moving glow it throws on the wall of my tent, and mumble of their quiet, good-natured talk give comfort as I read myself to sleep.
“My daughters and I…” never rings truer than during these outings. It’s a good tradition.
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