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The Moon is camping, too

The Moon is camping, too

Yippee. My daughter is visiting from NYC and we did a family backpack.  The wimpy adults (me and the dear husband) didn’t think we could muster ourselves on a too long hike so we settled for a short-ish, 2 mile, hike in. We’d intended to camp at Chenamus Lake but the single campsite was already taken so we hoisted ourselves back down the trail to Placid Lake which turned out to be a great choice with a stunning moonrise over the mist covered lake. We hiked out the next morning (Saturday) but squeezed in another small hike before heading to our cabin.

The camping family

The camping family

In our hike around Lake Thomas, we stumbled on a campfire that hadn’t fully been put out and apparently had begun to spread underground. I wasn’t aware that this kind of thing was possible and it got me thinking about how much goes on in our lives that is hidden.  A poem followed which you can read at the end of the post.

Smoke on the water

Smoke on the water

We picked enough huckleberries to liberally salt our pancakes on Sunday morning at the cabin. Also known as the shack. And the shabin (shabby cabin). Fancy it is not. Pancakes and bacon have been a family cabin tradition since we bought the place over fifteen years ago. It was more shack than cabin then, walls caving in, tree stumps for foundation, aged and moldy furniture. A totally non-functional fireplace with a metal (outside) firebox.  We’ve make rather major improvements and it’s downright cozy. Last night the air was warm and mosquito free, we slept with the windows wide and the sound of the creek bubbling through our dreams.

I’m heading over to Visible Monday hosted by Patti.  Join her and the rest at http://www.notdeadyetstyle.com.  This was my hiking outfit and I won’t be wearing it tomorrow (is that cheating?) because it will be in the laundry waiting for the smell of wood smoke to be dispersed in the wash.

With my lovely daughter

With my lovely daughter

Underground

She didn’t know
things could burn underground
Going on for days or months
until they hit dry tinder
exploding
 

it could be ten years
past, the kids younger
finishing high school,
still vulnerable
still
seething underground
the things they know now
steaming,
by some alchemy of heat and water
into a new shape.

 
Now, everyone is in their place
of huckleberries and forest.
The quiet tinder of their lives
settling into position
while the truth of life
and death is
burning, burning
underground

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