A Walk in the Woods

In an attempt to prepare my boys for our trip on the entire Appalachian Trail (AT), I decided to take them for a little hike, so we couldall get to knowthe outdoors.
Granted, they are just three, but I think they should be ready for a six month outing by the end of the summer, when they will almost be four.

Granted, the experts are against this. One website encourages "family" camping, at a large campsite until the children are at least seven.
This sounds dreadful. How are we going to engage the outdoors if we are surrounded by other campers, along with their radios, televisions, RV's, fancy camping furniture and overly prepared food?

Camping is going in the woods, hiking until you can't walk anymore, and pitching a tent where you can find some flat ground, or maybe a designated sight along the AT where you can pump and purify your very own water. What three year old wouldn't like this?

So off we went today, into the wild. I parked next to Loch Raven Drive, which was closed to traffic so we could hike into our destination, the great Loch. While it sits a few hundred yards from the road, the adventure began almost immediately, as one of my boys decided he needed his bright yellow plastic baseball bat, then it was into the woods.

The boys quickly bonded with nature, and rushed hurriedly to the water. For the next hour we skipped rocks, followed ducks, dropped the above mentioned bat into the water, which I had to retrieve, then peed in the woods (them, not me).

I realized a few things:
  1. My boys need some work with outdoors. One seemed to have no concerns with anything resembling danger while the other would stop dead in his tracks if he didn't the way certain trees looked.
  2. Some fear of water may not be bad.
  3. Their little legs get tired, although not as tired as they kept telling me, which I think was a ploy to be carried.
  4. We may need to put off the AT trip.

I realize more and more that I want to be with my boys, and as I watch them get older, I feel our lives start to merge. I can envision a time when we begin to have shared hobbies, but it may not be on my time frame, and while this is frustrating, I am still going to have to leave home when I insist in engaging in certain activities that seem harmless, and perhaps indulgent to a 45 year old, because they may still be too dangerous for a three and a half year old, or two.

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A Season Without Snowboarding


I spent many hours on the slopes, falling on my face, bruising parts of my body that I needed to stay healthy, twisting things that should be straight and seeing the ground from the bottom up. Eventually I got to a place where I was comfortable on any run, and came to love the sport. Every year I got excited by the first snowfall, and felt a tingle when it flurried in early December.

This year was off to a great start, as the winter was cold and the snow fell, and yet, today was the first day I even looked at my board, sitting in its rack, where it has been all year. My son even asked why I had two boards and then he followed it up by saying, "Are they for different conditions?" (I've never been so proud of that boy.)

So what did I do this winter?

I spent a lot of time with the guys. We shoveled and built fires. I watched them collect sticks for the fire, as they crept through snow covered evergreen trees and built forts under the canopy of snow. They helped me hang the Christmas lights, none of which matched but still made them excited every time we pulled up to the house. And they learned the enjoyment of traipsing in the snow to go to the bakery for lunch followed by a ice cream dessert.
I couldn't
have asked for a better winter.

Maybe next
year will find me back on the slopes, with the boys tethered to me on the bunny hill while I am teaching them about my favorite winter activity, or maybe we will practice the fine art of snowman building followed by a snowball fight.

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