A Running Collection

Our first stop - Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We didn’t think much about the date. Back to our thinking six weeks is plenty to plan a mammoth adventure, we didn’t consider that we were beginning our trek on the busiest holiday in our country. We landed in the Clingman’s Dome parking lot at the same time as 1,000 other people enjoying our Nation’s great forest on a great holiday. We hiked the paved trail with a sea of people moving up and up into the clouds to a glorious view of the blue hued hills. After fighting Pigeon Forge traffic, we were finally off to the great wide open. We prepared for an all night drive and drifted off into mini van sleep while George drove us through the night.  By four the next afternoon, we were in Kennebec, South Dakota at a lovely campground. George’s third grade teacher, Sylvia Ann Marquette met us there for spaghetti and wine and songs and stories before we fell into deep - not in a mini van - sleep.    After o...

Six weeks to plan a journey is, for George and I, seriously advanced planning. We were sure that if we took an epic trip, we should plan ahead, and six weeks seemed good enough. We have wanted to take the family to Washington State to see where we lived and meet our dear friends, and we decided that driving would be more adventurous and little less expensive. We had the time, so be charted our course. We even took notes, made a few phone calls, send a few emails, and made some rough calculations on cost.  We've wanted to get into adventure mode with our kids. They roll that way so easily and we’ve dreamed of it for too long not to make it happen.  If George and I plan something, it never works. You can ask my family. If I put it on a calendar, it probably won’t happen. If I don’t, it will and it will be big. So we were somewhere in the in between, but definitely on the side of “Where will this road take us?” So, we packed up our camping gear, a cooler, and som...

The early morning sunrise gives just enough light for a run before the heat pushes us inside. It's quiet out, except for the birds. The land is going to push out piles of cotton, but for now they are tiny plants waiting on the sun and the rain. Back at the farm, the kids appear from upstairs, finished with their deep sleep and ready for breakfast, preparing to rock the day. We used to spend our hours sitting on tractors imagining and pretending. Now they turn them on and make them go and mow the grass for Grandmother. They start the fire on the burn piles to help granddaddy. They crank up their motorbikes and zoom through the fields. Hannah still imagines. Grandmother gives her cooking supplies and she creates a feast of flower petals and bird seed and leaves. Hannah keeps to the house, but the others are old enough to explore. We knew this day would come. Our farm trips are going to be different now with brave kids and motorbikes and things to do in the fields. ...