four children + green dreams + recipes + story writing + running wild + (sanity) = where you'll find me
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Sunday evening, we biked to a picnic gathering in the nearby park, joining other local food enthusiasts in a potluck of amazing variety and in overwhelming quantities. Delicious fun. It was also fun doing something as a family, and I thought, we must not waste these long summer evenings.
So the very next day, I organized a picnic/cycling adventure. As soon as Kevin got home from work, we put the finishing touches on the food, jammed it all into the bike stroller along with the kids, and headed out on a rather longer haul to a little creek-side spot the kids and I found last summer. This summer, someone had added a swing. It was a challenging pull there, mostly uphill, with at least 100 pounds in the stroller behind (though coming home was a breeze). I took my camera.
We laid out a picnic blanket, ate, talked, and then went for an after-supper wade in the creek, which included dam-building, and rock-hopping, and of course ended with two out of four children getting completely soaked. I scrounged the diaper bag for dry clothes, and Fooey had to make-do with a pair of shorts sized for a two-year-old, but she and CJ shared the picnic blanket and laughed and played all the way home. The happiest I've seen them in the stroller EVER. They were pretending to be spies and were hiding from people. The sun shone and there was so much green.
Tonight, I am planning another family outing, to make up for the general dullness of the every day (friends away or otherwise occupied, babysitter here this morning, distracted mama; though we did read more from The Hobbit, and I sent everyone to run around the yard for ten minutes before "quiet time.") Our evening activity, if all goes as planned, is a bike ride to the outdoor pool, and a swim before bed.
I'm mother of four, writer, dreamer, planner, runner, photographer, taking time for a cup of coffee in front of this computer screen. My days are full, yet I keep asking: how can I fill them just a little bit more
-- with depth, with care, with pleasure.