One of the great things about living in Northeastern Minnesota is having easy access to wild places.
We've had this vintage trailer for a couple of years but haven't yet had enough time or energy to get it rolling. Last week we brought it to a campground way up in the woods where the raspberries, bears, moose and eagles are plentiful.
It felt good to unplug. Mr. Moody commuted to work all week from our remote campsite while the kids and I luxuriated in half mile hikes that took two hours; browsing blueberry patches, squashing rosehips and trying in vain to catch crayfish.
We watched two young eagles all week that had nested above a campsite nearby. We saw them eating. We heard them screeching.
One morning, the kids and I watched a group of French-speaking young people solemnly wade, knee-deep, into the water to spread something that must have been a loved-one's ashes.
We read stacks of books and wrote some of our own.
She painted.
I knitted.
We laughed.
We made friends with our good neighbors, who serenaded us with their accordian in the afternoons.
For awhile, I pretended that I would always have these long days with my littles.
And the days were so good.
Joining both the Frontier Dreams and Small Things readers today.
