We took advantage of spectacular autumn weather and a day off of school by spending some time in a local park and on the adjoining walking/biking trail. (Never mind that I spent a small part of the afternoon scraping waterfowl feces from the treads of four pairs of shoes with a toothpick.) Our morning, in pictures:
My husband and I began tent camping together before we had children and continued with regularity for years with our young children. We toted babies and toddlers. We relished the outdoors. And then, around the time we had an infant and a toddler in addition to our two older children, it became a bit much. My husband feared an unknown woodsy calamity. I’ll admit, our last excursion, with only three of the children, was a bit challenging. My sole recollection is my toddling 10-month-old stretching out of her Bumbo seat to gather dead leaves from the forest floor to stuff into her mouth while we wrestled with tent setup. So, we took a break. Our youngest is now three, so on Labor Day weekend, we gave camping another shot. Here’s what I learned.
We’ve camped in state park campgrounds with pit toilets before. Not recently and not often, but we’ve done it. My boy scout has done it fairly often. It’s not a big deal. At least it hadn’t been. The pit toilets at this particular Pennsylvania state park stunk. Sure, you say, pit toilets stink. No, I don’t mean “stink.” I mean eye-watering, gagging, covering-my-mouth-and-nose-with-my-shirt stink. Putrescence. Is that a word? I think that’s a word. Lesson learned: If you’ve smelled one pit toilet, you’ve smelled one pit toilet. (Since we like this park, I was relieved to learn they are installing flush toilets over the winter! Yay!)
I’m linking up with Theology is a Verb and Reconciled to You for #WorthRevisit Wednesday Linkup.
Less than two weeks away from Labor Day and fresh from a short but unplugged visit to Shenandoah National Park, this seemed like the perfect post to revisit.
Man has endured work since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden:
To the man he said: Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, You shall not eat from it,
Cursed is the ground because of you!
In toil you shall eat its yield
all the days of your life. (Gen 3:17)
Yet “work is for man, not man for work.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2428) So, this Labor Day and throughout the year, what can you do bring a bit of genuine leisure to your life? To cultivate a sabbath or respite?
One of the simplest, most beneficial, FREE things you can do is get out into nature. In the weeks before school began, I crammed in some last-minute opportunities to get myself and my children outside. We visited a grotto, gardens, nature trails, and a nature sanctuary.
Wildwood Park in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Why small success? Because that’s the only kind I know! Even the big ones come in small steps. Here’s my paltry offering for the week:
Man has endured work since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden:
To the man he said: Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, You shall not eat from it,
Cursed is the ground because of you!
In toil you shall eat its yield
all the days of your life. (Gen 3:17)
Yet “work is for man, not man for work.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2428) So, this Labor Day and throughout the year, what can you do bring a bit of genuine leisure to your life? To cultivate a sabbath or respite?
One of the simplest, most beneficial, FREE things you can do is get out into nature. In the weeks before school began, I crammed in some last-minute opportunities to get myself and my children outside. We visited a grotto, gardens, nature trails, and a nature sanctuary.
Wildwood Park in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Despite the fact that I love the outdoors, no one would mistake me for a tree hugger. While I’ve become more and more “crunchy” over the years, I’ve never embraced the moniker “environmentalist,” for a variety of reasons. I was, however, such an ant-litter Nazi, that when a Pennsylvania hotline existed to report littering, I made several calls detailing make, model, and license number of cars from which trash was thrown. But, I digress. In honor of the fact I’m finally reading Pope Francis’s encyclical Laudato Si, I’ve compiled a list of my favorite trees.
Trees
by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.