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My turn to live vicariously

Wow, another week has gone by and I have not done anything too exciting. So, instead of trying to force something interesting for you from my scattered brain I decided it was my turn to live vicariously through someone else.

This week's adventure is brought to you by Stephen and Patch, our two sons. I tried inviting myself along for the trip, but I was informed there was only room for two in the tent. It didn't hurt my feelings too badly, the temps were quite chilly this weekend, outside the tent anyways.

Since Stephen and Patch have become young adults, their time together has been at a premium. College and careers took them down different roads that seldom intersected. So, when their trails do circle around to each other they take full advantage of it and head off on some journey. Usually it is to the North Maine Woods. But not this weekend. They geared up and headed across the finally frozen lake out front. Neither one of them wanted to spend time driving hours from home. Backpacks full, tow-sled stuffed with ice fishing traps, auger, and all the comforts for a rustic night on the ice their sleds could fit, they left our shore for the the one on the opposite side of the cove.

Traditionally, I usually get up early with them to make breakfast sandwiches to start the day off right. But with my new schedule, my sleep cycle is all out of wack. Exhausted, I stayed in the rack. I am not used to the second shift schedule 3pm - 1am. I get to bed anytime between 1:45am and 7am. That particular morning I think I closed my eyes about 4am, about the time Patch was getting up. I was not making anything that day except fast tracks to shut-eye.

I joined the land of the living sometime around mid-day with a heart filled with joy knowing our two kids where just across the cove spending time together. I briefly considered strapping on my snowshoes to join them for an afternoon of ice fishing but Bruce's invite to stay inside where it was warm and play games was more inviting. I texted the boys and requested they take pictures so I could have something to write about. I took the easy way out. Yeah, I cheated.

It was a beautiful day out on the lake. At least that's what it looked like from my view and from the pictures sent to me. I just love the close-up of Katahdin - photo on the right. Zooming in pixelated the image causing it to look more like a watercolor painting rather than a snapshot.

They may have taken up residence on the ice but the woods always seems to call out to them also, it's in their blood. The photo on the right barely shows their instant pop-up igloo-style home away from home.

Then what would ice fishing be without food. Since one can never guarantee the success of the hook and line, one must come prepared. Fasting is not welcomed on their camping adventures, it's all about the food.

As the sun dropped behind the trees, the temperature followed. I was glad there was only room for two. But the chill was left outside the thin canvas walls of their easy-up shelter. With four small backpacking stoves and another portable heater, apparently it was quite tropical inside.

The next morning I was up early in anticipation of their return. Patch wanted to head back to NH so he could spend the afternoon with his fiancé, after all it was now Valentine's Day. I was ready to make them breakfast this time. As I was getting things ready I looked out the dining room picture window scanning between the trees for a sign of the "kids" - they will always be the kids no matter how old they are. My heart jumped again as I caught a glimpse of them far off against the morning sky. Side by side they walked with their gear in tow and on their shoulders. It seemed like only yesterday they were knee-high to a grasshopper and couldn't even set their own ice trap and I had to bait their hooks. Now, here they were, independent of their mother and father, two grown boys - young men, providing for themselves, without a clue how very proud their parents are of them.

Like most of my posts, I have an idea of what I will write, but as my fingers caress the keys, their rhythmic pitter-pattering of the strokes carries my thoughts to a place I did not plan. What started out as a cheat of a post because I was too lazy to go do my own adventure turned in to a journey down memory lane that depended the realization how life is so short. We should cherish every moment, forget the bad stuff that happens, can't change it anyways so while dwell on it, and give thanks.

Thanks Stephen and Patch for letting me steal your thunder. You will always be a source of excitement. And thanks for warming my heart as you so often do.

Happy Hiking,


Ps - I want to sleep on the ice. Stacey - are you up for it?


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