For the last three years we have gathered for the weekend here at this blessed place on the old homestead. A school auction item, this partly sunny, partly shady piece of heaven earth.
Walking land tended by one family since the Oregon Trail means feeling love soft underfoot and the gift of putting down stakes for a couple nights, sleeping under the swirling mass of stars and a half moon.
Cold Creek runs past the portion of the 800 acre farm where families plop tents and under the old foot bridge parts old metal and soft wood, next to the fire pit that rings with camp and pop songs and near by the grassy field, peppered with gopher holes and sports equipment.
We watch kids run from friend to friend, whack the wiffle ball, float downstream, catch crawdads and mosquito bites, hold hands, play cat and dog, and I breathe the gift of freedom for them and for us.
For the joy of exploring and sprinting barefoot until you hit the pillow, for the delight of lifting rocks and finding things with claws and antennae and tiny feet.
For the joy of a different kind of parenting and different kinds of days.
I remember my sister, two or three, and I, six or seven, and our best boy friends pulling apart old adirondack chairs (without my mom’s knowledge or consent) so we could write “Home Sweet Home” in chalk to make art for our lean-to on the edge of the woods. And I think of the seats from stumps and how it had been harder to create the table.
I recall the way the wood’s trees smelled and that I’d sniff my hair after the day was done and trace on my mind’s map where we’d walked and the swamp we’d jumped through, sometimes losing our shoes to the squelchy squirch.
Now we talk about how often parent’s days are about making fun for our kids. Fun they can show up to, be entertained by and how many of our favorite memories involved making our own way. Figuring out what it meant to be a pioneer, an explorer, a banker, a mom, an architect, an athlete.
I watch these rock wall builders and these capture-the-flag guarders and these washers of dishes and these song makers and these marshmallow roasting phenoms and these champion watermelon eaters, and I see how capable they are, delight all over dirt and juice-smudged faces.
Then as Saturday night draws to a close, we hide flags and run and guard and tuck ourselves behind minivans and perform covert rescue opps, and we kids and adults alike run like the wind through the field, knowing how good it is to be free.
It’s good to be back from my r & r. I hope summer has been kind to you. Today, as I do many Tuesdays, I’m linking up with “Just Write” (an exercise in free writing everyday moments), at The Extraordinary Ordinary.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
So much to love in every season. Thanks for sharing some of yours. Reminded me of some of the memories of “our farm” in Washington. Ah,the smell of sweetgrass and sand…
Thank you for sharing your memories, too, Don. Sweetgrass and sand on the farm. Beautiful.
ahh dearest Ashley! This was such a lovely piece of writing! (Of course it spoke to me, sang in fact, of childhood memories of my own.) You manage always to bring the senses into your pieces…this is just rich with them!! And what you say about the f r e e d o m that kids used to have to create and explore and find their own ways of learning and turning the “ordinary” into fantastic is sadly lost for so many kids today. I’m very grateful for these experiences for you and yours! And so happy you pay such close attention – that allows the rest of us to share in it! Thank you dear girl! xxoo
Oooh, and I forgot to say, I love the photos here!! :)
Thanks, Mama. High praise from you!
Turning the ordinary into fantastic — yes! Isn’t this one of the things children do so beautifully? One of the very things that makes them models for us…having faith like a child seems so much about the ability to trust that what is unseen is not less real or may in fact be becoming before our eyes.
Thanks for giving us a glimpse of your summer fun! I agree that too often kids today want fun “created” for them rather then knowing how to explore, create, & just enjoy the world around them without being handed “tools” to do it with.
You’re so right, Becca. When kids aren’t given “tools,” they do seem to find a way to fashion most anything into one. I love watching that creativity happen.
I loved the detailed description of everything. I could experience it somewhat :)
Thanks, Deb.
You captured the weekend so well! I pulled a muscle during our capture the flag game and each time I feel the soreness I laugh and am reminded of the fun and freedom of that night. As always, it is a pleasure to read your blog, thanks for sharing!
Rachael! Shoot, you pulled a muscle?! I’ll tell you — I was definitely feeling every one of my years through the Olympic contests and Capture the Flag. But I love that your pain is reminding you to laugh at the freedom and fun of it all. What a great attitude. It was a special weekend for sure. Thanks for your kind words. :)
LOVED this post – maybe because I got to share in it with you! I agree with every word you wrote here… And delight in the fact that I have another week coming where my kids will be roaming in the woods, playing in “their” tree at Tugman State Park, eating food over a campfire, snuggling as an entire family in our tent together, TV free, computer free, free, free, free… Thanks Ashley for putting into words what I experienced last weekend. Beautiful writing, as always.
Thank you so much, Barb! It was a joy to share with you and your clan. Yes, I am incredibly grateful, too, that we have more experiences like these to look forward to this summer.
I love what you said about computer free, TV free — free, free, free — and the joy of snuggling together as a family in your tent. That freedom in letting go of these devices and holding each other under the nylon canopy, under the stars. Ahhh.