July 09, 2013

Early morning at camp

My father, heading out

My parents are the first to wake up. My father, who is 82, had to give up his sailboat but he still heads out to the river in an old aluminum boat with a little outboard motor. He wears a bright yellow rain slicker and an odd hat. He'll return with news. "The wind has shifted," he'll say, "It's going to be warm later."

My mother makes coffee and mixes pancake batter, dropping in handfuls of fresh blueberries. At the little wooden table built by my father, she feeds family members in shifts. They stumble out of tents, one at a time, rubbing eyes and muttering at dogs, stopping at the outhouse before making their way to my parents' cabin. The last person to eat is usually With-a-Why, who arrives at the table with his hair standing on end and looks half-asleep as he slides onto the bench and grabs a fork to tackle a stack of pancakes.

  Early morning at camp


Cindy said...

Sounds wonderful!

Annette said...

So lovely...I hear admiration and contentment. Who could ask for more.

robin andrea said...

So beautiful there and a wonderful place for a family vacation.

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

I wish I were there.

MMMMMmmmm, blueberry pancakes--guess what I'm having for breakfast today!!!! (mmmmmmm!)