Iris asked, for Solstice, to go on a hike just with me, like we used to
before my foot hurt so much.
I enjoyed the hike.
Iris let me know that I am slow.
Iris asked, for Solstice, to go on a hike just with me, like we used to
before my foot hurt so much.
I enjoyed the hike.
Iris let me know that I am slow.
Canal building commenced around seven in the morning.
The purpose of the canal was the creation of an island.
Digging of the pool began past eight. Akiva dug, Martin brought the reinforcement material.
Iris documented the days activities in her journal.
She drew and wrote in the morning light on a driftwood log by the bay.
After allowing them to admire it a bit, the rising tide lent its creative hand to Martin & Akiva’s stone ringed pool.
Back at camp, there was a chess tournament.
It is very difficult to get an action shot in chess.
I have never seen one.
This is our kitchen tent. We have our own spot on the bay with our own entrance, to the water.
It is just a bit over two kilometers from where the nearest car can drive.
There are no idling RVs, no cars driving, no speakers playing, no people walking by (usually), and there is no cell reception.
I got Lyme disease at my folk’s house in mid-July. It was exhausting and painful.
I spent most of our camping trip sleeping on the beach.
The kids didn’t have as much fun this year, due to all my sleeping.
Martin says it was the last year we’re going, in his opinion.
He has never enjoyed camping.
It’s still the best place ever for family camping, in my opinion. I simply love it here.
deciding on the building site
building the foundation
raising the walls
sandcastle legs
playing in the bay
shoreline at sunset
children at sunset
We biked down to the Coaticook.
Akiva went IN!!!
Iris also got wet.
Akiva needed some time with just me.
I took him on a ride through North Hatley to the old swimming spot on the Coaticook.
I had to look it up: fashion models are required to look glum on the runway in order to avoid taking the focus away from the clothing they are wearing. In other words, perhaps if they smiled, they would look too beautiful for us to bother caring about their clothing. This doesn’t make much sense to me. Why hire those who have, ostensibly, the most perfect faces and then tell themβ “Go out there and knock ’em dead! βbut not too dead. We don’t want actual dead people, so look as average as possible.” Why not just hire average people and let them smile? In sum, I don’t buy it. I think there’s another reason they’re required to look glum, and I think I know what it is: glumness is currently in fashion. Smiles come and go! Here is a woodland setting with facially fashionable children. Uh, wait. Isn’t it fashionable for children to smile? Oops…
The depth of field is shallow because I didn’t bring my tripod.
I didn’t bring my tripod because I didn’t want to carry it.
I didn’t want to carry it because my backpack is not properly engineered for carrying a tripod.
I wish I was comfortable bringing my tripod everywhere.
I would like a new backpack.
We had to hurry home from the Massawippi Trail on my birthday two weeks ago because it coincided with opening day for registration for the campgrounds at Parc National du Fjord-du-Saguenay. I wanted to register at at the first minute of the first possible hour so that I could get my favorite spot. Both Martin and I clicked the proper button on our separate computers the instant registration opened. I had around 10,000 people in front of me and he only had about 8,000 people in front of him, so after a mere 50 minutes in the virtual waiting room, we were in! Bonus, I got my spot. It helps that I’m not really picky about which week we go camping.
Anyhow. That’s all besides the point.
The point is, we had to go back to the Massawippi trail so that we could walk to the far end of it.
There’s a lot more to explore.
It seems that, for my birthday, I took exactly one photograph. Here it is!
Apologies to all family members whom I failed to photograph on my birthday.
The autumn that Akiva was 6, we hiked up Mt. Orford the long way. It took six hours. I didn’t take any photographs. Instead, I told an epic tale about a war between the monsters and the humans. It was probably the best story I’ve ever told in my life. I told a lot of stories that year. Unfortunately, I don’t remember any of them. It’s a pretty sad state of affairs.
I started telling monster stories when Akiva was at Kate’s at the Waldorf school. The first story I told was about a monster who dug tunnels in the Japanese knotweed (Fallopia japonica) and the boy who met him there and befriended him. It was a good tale, and probably the only one I’ve ever told where the main character is sad about the removal of a large swath of invasive plants.
I stopped telling monster stories when Akiva found out about superheroes. He wanted superhero stories. To me, superheroes are all the same. The only thing really interesting about them is their creation story, and creation stories are pretty difficult. I managed one inspired superhero story about a boy who somehow gained the superpower of zapping dog-poop that was left in an inappropriate place back onto the property of the human who owned said dog, often with the human being in a coincidentally inconvenient location when the poop descended out of the skyβ a telling tale in terms of how I fell about humans who let their dogs shit in public places or on others’ property and don’t carry out the common courtesy of cleaning up. That’s basically the only superpower I’ve considered acquiring lately, so after that tale, I had no more inspiration.
But the tale of the war between the monsters and the humans was one of utter devastation ending in hope of resurrection. I wish I had recorded it. On this hike, the kids spent time trying to re-tell the tale to me. I think it’s all Humpty-Dumpty, tho, to be never together again.