On the way home from camping, we stopped just outside of Montreal for two nights to do a few things. We stayed in an air B&B which, in this case, was an airless B&B. It was located in a basement with very little ventilation and no AC, and it was HOT. When we asked for a fan, the owner took the one from the chicken coop— but it didn’t seem to work anymore, so there we were. We washed our camping clothing & dried them into a dryer that vented into the basement. Hot. The water in the house was not potable, which we did not know in advance. The woman left us a gallon, which certainly doesn’t go far amongst four hot, hot sweaty people. Gallon after gallon, we went to buy more at the not-so-close store. I was thirsty. The crickets were too loud to allow us to sleep with the one available window open. The beds were not quite made of cardboard. While we were there, Akiva scratched Iris on the arm. A tiny scratch. It did not bleed. But the broken skin got infected. One long blister and two smaller ones swelled and broke. Of all the places I have slept in of dubious quality in various third-world countries, this one was the worst.

Here you see Iris back home on our own bike path,

white bandage covering her infected scratch,

small bandage covering another scratch on the other arm.

She is anxious about biking.

We went camping! It was delightful, but I failed to take many photos. We borrowed a tent & lucked into the best site in the park due to a last minute cancelation. Martin went camping once before in his life & it rained, so he swore off camping forever. But we brought him nonetheless, kicking & struggling, & it was almost completely delightfully sunny excepting a 15 minute delightfully light cloudburst in the middle of breakfast on our final day camping. Martin had to swear off camping again, forever and ever this time. The kids had a blast, tho, so if the kids are still cute next year, there’s a possibility that we can convince him to sleep in a tent once more.

This is our campsite.

Remember, the camera has an amazing ability to frame that which is most beautiful.

That which you don’t see: scalded plants from where people poured out boiling water, toothpaste spit, mangled saplings, trees with every reachable limb broken off, and the general camping junk.

This is what I have framed: this is what I will remember—

Down below, we have our own tiny, private beach. 

It is a good place to go when one wants to share secrets.

The water invites them in.

Much later & getting late, my children watch the fire.

A fire is sometimes just for watching.

Proof that Martin came with us. He may have even enjoyed himself. Who knows.

This is the last time I will attempt to photograph Akiva modeling his new shirt.

Gone is the perfect lighting of the covered bridge.

Gone is the smooth, unwrinkled linen.

Here we have a very round boy with luscious lips wearing an unpressed linen shirt.

He his posing for his mama in sub-optimal, dappled, late morning sun light.

He is doing his very best to follow all of her complicated requests.

He did a wonderful job.