Labor Day weekend was maybe 129 degrees. The mosquitoes invited all their friends, neighbors, and long lost relatives to Harvey County West.
So we thought, hey, let's go camping!
I sniped these pictures from Shari's blog - their family was there with us, and I was too overcome with my sweating to take pictures. If you know me well, or maybe you just met me last week, you know that I do not do well with heat. As in I climb into a place so far up in my brain that there is no seeing straight, saying kind things, remembering my children's names, trading of stocks, or general making of sense.
But we set up our tent at Bandit Hollow two nights early so the spot would be ours for the weekend and bribed the kids with the promise of camping for days ahead of time.
There was no backing out.
There was only plowing through.
sweating
mosquito slapping
burned black hotdogs
grilled banana boats
tinfoil dinners that would-not-for-all-that-is-holy cook all the way through. We should've taken them out of the fire and set them in the sun. That would've been hotter.
fans blowing on us as we sat around the fire. Because you cannot go camping and not sit around the fire, even when your back is already wet with sweat.
frog catching
pond swimming
great convos about God and parenting and hot dogs
I've had this quote in my brain for the last week or so. And by golly, its even true of camping....
Mary Oliver says:
"All things are inventions of holiness - some more rascally than others."
because of great friends - Michiganders who braved Kansas camping!, the resilient laughter of our kiddos, Michelob Ultra, Bandit Hollow's awesome shade and comfort, and great burnt hotdogs...
Labor Day camping was indeed its own sweaty invention of holiness.