13 . August . 2010

‘a ministering angel
shall my sister be.’
-wm shakespeare

dowdy lake, co
elev. 8120 glorious feet


freshwater crustaceans

13 . August . 2010

aka. crayfish



i think we spend half of our days
on top of the world,
hatchet in hand,
chopping wood.

even the girls got to try their hand
[under supervision from
their carefulwoodchopper daddy]

destroyingly beautiful up here.
i can’t get over it.

feet apart,
stand at a slight angle,
hatchet in dominant hand,
recheck your circle-of-safety
(whew, caroline’s outside of it;
she could watch all day)

and go.

reading break with grammy.

henry wondered why there wasn’t
water + electricity up here,
at 9850ft
on top of a mountain.

‘why don’t they just run a pipe?’


city boy.

but luckily we do have a generator,
so at the climax of the night
when your toes are turning to ice
in your sleeping bag,
all of a sudden this magical littl *whir *
kicks in and….

a wee bit of glorious heat.

[the relief was followed by a
tinge of guilt
thinking about cory + the boys
out in the tent.

oh trust me,
there’s plenty of room in the
but those roughing-it-boys
heed adventure’s call
outside its walls.

but not me, no siree, no thank you, ma’am.

i’m all about a few walls around me
when that wind starts howling
and thoughts of coyotes + bears
creep into my mind…

and then the heat envelops me
and i go back to sleep,
guilt be gone.]

henry does the chop-chop.

a clean fire = no smoke.

nathan + i are
slightly addicted
to the bow + arrow.

[we’ve since upgraded bows,
thanks, daddy;
i’ll show a photo of our
new+improved sexy spring soon,

oh, it’s a beauty.

i’ve been known to sneak shots
between hands of the
ongoing card game.

sometimes i can get in 2-3.


another delirious dawn.

at one point,
henry asked for a bandaid.

and then paused,

evaluating the cuts/scrapes/abrasions
on his cutie calves,
trying to figure out which
was the biggest,
which of them warranted a
proper bandage.

the ‘smooth + silky leg’ contest
will have to wait until next summer;
he’s out of the running just now.

you go, hearty boy.

ps –
i’m currently laundering
cory’s sweatshirt for the
third time.

i mean,
all of our clothes were
camp-y, smoke-y,
but that sucker