As JT and I settle into our summer routine and start preparations for our camping trip to Cape Cod, I've given some thought to my best summer memory. I can't really settle on a single summer experience as my best summer memory, but I have many happy memories of camping with my family.
My family was of the rustic camp-in-a-tent variety. We slept in sleeping bags and we ate food we cooked over an open flame. We usually camped with friends and I recall those lazy summer days as wonderfully adventurous. I remember long walks in the woods. I remember eating picnic lunches (usually salami sandwiches with mustard on fresh sourdough bread) while sitting in the sun on a huge rock overlooking Billy Creek. I remember getting my sneakers sopping wet in that creek. I remember eating spaghetti on a plate resting on my knees, as we huddled under the tarp during a rare Sierra Nevada summer rain. I remember the sound of playing cards slapping against the red-checked vinyl table cloth my mom always spread over the picnic table at the campsite. And I remember the clean, fresh smell of the woods, and the feeling of independence that camping always brought to me.
I was blessed to be able to give that experience to JT last summer and I'm looking forward to doing it again in a few weeks. Something about those low-tech and high fun adventures really resounds with me. And it's nice to be able to give those memories to my son.