Let's Go Camping

 Going camping always makes me question my sanity.

Let's pack up so much stuff we have to attach a rack to our trailer hitch and put a cargo carrier on top of the car just to hold everything, and leave our strong, sturdy home for a windblown tarp in the wilderness. 

We'll forgo our comfortable beds for air mattresses that have a 90% chance of going flat during the night. 

We won't shower for days and the kids will use up all my baby wipes cleaning their filthy feet. 

We'll do our business in a stinky outhouse that has peeping chipmunks lurking inside. 

The kids will be cranky from lack of sleep and will spend all day alternating between shrieking with playful fun and sobbing that one of their siblings has wronged them. 

It will take half a day to unpack our stuff and settle into our campsite. And then once we're really comfortable, we'll pack it all up again and go home. 

No wonder my parents never took us camping. 

But somehow, like a truly insane person, I keep doing it. I tell Mr. Brown Eyes, "Let's go camping," like it's the easiest form of vacation, involving very little planning or preparation. 

Maybe someday I'll learn. 

But I kind of hope that I don't. 

Because there is something about being in the clear, cool air, the quiet so loud it resounds in your ears, looking up at a breathtaking spangle of stars, that will send me camping again and again, no matter the hassle. 

Somehow the bad parts always seem to fade to the back of our minds, and all we remember is that camping is beautiful and fun, and let's go all the time. 

Ok, maybe not ALL the time.

I do love sleeping in my bed. 

Happy Camping, 

The Brown-Eyed Girl

Really Big Trees

 Who knew trees could be so fascinating?

I have seen pictures from the Redwood Forest, as I'm sure most people have, and I would usually shrug and think, "Yeah, those are some really big trees."

But seeing them in real life was unreal. Pictures don't do them justice, words seem insufficient. They ARE really big trees, and they are AMAZING. 

We actually stopped first at Sequoia National park, where the species of Redwoods known as Giant Sequoias reside. They are shorter than the coastal Redwoods but much wider. More rotund? I'm not sure what the right word is in tree-speak. 

But both species of Redwood were breath-taking and made us feel like tiny human beings. Insignificant creatures that only live for maybe a hundred years, while some of these trees have loomed for thousands.

As we cruised the winding mountain road, the first Sequoia that loomed over us made me feel like we were in a forest of giants. Like something out of a fairy tale. 

General Sherman, the largest tree on earth in terms of volume, gave us a glimpse of what mice must feel like with us towering over them. 

I just don't have words. 

Ok, maybe I have some words. 

I think maybe sometimes I treat other people's problems like really big trees--something I brush off because I don't really understand. I know I probably won't ever step into those problems and experience them firsthand like I did the trees, but maybe I can learn, and we all can, that we all experience mortal life differently. Maybe I can learn that what might just seem like a big tree to me is real and immense to someone else, and I can have a little more sympathy and compassion. 

And I learned that some things in life are just beyond description. 

Really Big Tree Lover,

The Brown-Eyed Girl