We returned home yesterday afternoon from a 3 day camping trip. We arrived armed with fishing poles, lots of food and a cooler full of beer. I have to say, this was definitely the best trip I’ve ever been on. I mean, look at it:

For about two days I forgot about everything stressful in my life, there were no chapters to write, no weddings to plan, no family issues, no naughty children. It was just me, people I love and the lake. Honor was perfect – albiet filthy – he spent his days down by the lake’s edge playing (and eating) the mud. Worms were his friends, the dog his companion.

I think we all turned into fishermen on this trip, even though Jim caught just one fish upon our arrival and I, a single fish just before our departure. Fishing used to be something that I found very boring, but there was something about sitting at the shore of this lake that was mesmerizing, listening to the peaceful sound of birds chirping, woodpeckers pecking and the occasional plop of a fish hopping out of the lake to claim it’s dinner.

Monday we hiked around the lake, the girls with the dog going one direction, the guys going the other, fishing their way around. As we hiked around, we stumbled upon many an impromptu fire pit, littered with evidence of irresponsibility. I’m always amazed at what slobs people can be, leaving trash behind in such an amazing space. (There were even bear-proof trash cans provided!) So I spent some time cleaning up other peoples trash. As we left, I was even more resolved that we will never leave a mess behind in a camp spot.

We left reluctantly. Looking at these pictures, all I want to do is go back.