Into the Mountains

I tried to coerce them along. But they were unmoved. And with Gordon on my back, I couldn’t carry both of them.

That’s when she turned back. Came without asking and swooped up a child. Spencer was already strapped to her back so she slung Samantha around her waist. That’s how she is – Kara.

She has the most peaceable walk, the most nurturing heart. She would have ten babies if she could. But, like me, she knows what it is to mourn the empty womb.

Still, I hear no cursings from her lips, only gratitude. She loves God for her two children – never takes for granted the gift of being a mother.

And she loves mine as if they were her own. They reciprocate – they love her like a mother.

We made it to the swing. A log swing that’s been hanging in a grove of aspens for twenty plus years. We shared snacks, drank water, and recovered a few lost smiles.

Saturday was Horse Camp. I pulled the girls’ hair into pigtails, sprayed them down with sunscreen and bug repellant, then ran with them to the stables. Every summer Dave’s cousins provide a Horse Camp for the kids. It’s marvelous, really. And his family is so lovely. They teach the children all about horses. Types, anatomy, how to groom, and of course, how to ride. This was a first for my girls – sitting horseback.

Eliza was over the moon. I’ve been telling her stories about Lacy (the palomino I had during my high school and college days) for a while now.

 

She wanted to do it all herself – such a big girl. She even learned how to dismount on her own. I chuckled as she swung her leg over the rump, and carefully dropped to the ground. Thud. That girl is one tough cookie.

I love this picture of Katherine in her flashy red boots, hanging on the fence, waiting for her turn.

It was so nice to have nowhere to go, no phone to answer, nothing to do but take in the vista, watch the kids ride, smell the smells, and soak up this happy new experience.

Sami and Ali were a little less happy. But with encouragement, Sam rode all by her lonesome.

Ali needed a companion. And even then she was a little afraid. But they did it. And they were proud.

That afternoon, while all my kids were awake (yes, awake!) and Kara was preparing dinner, she said, “Now is a good time to go. I want to get you out by yourself, even if it’s only for twenty minutes.”

It really wasn’t a good time to go. But I left anyway, found a small trail past the beaver pond and began hiking. I walked quickly, noticing the variety of wildflowers, the welcome patches of shade, and a train of clouds puffing along the peaks. I hiked for forty minutes and stopped here.

It was hot but beautiful. I sat on a bench and wrote, and read, and wrote some more.

Go up into the mountain I thought again. That’s the secret. Somewhere between the cabin and the lake, with all the walking, huffing, and gazing, it happened. I forgot how powerful this elevated ridge of the world is. It’s majestic. Whatever was keeping me from the great Creator was suddenly lost, shed, left behind. The process was surprisingly simple. We were in harmony again, reconnected, conversing.

I picked wildflowers for the girls. Bluebells for Ali (she loves blue). A wild rose for Eliza (she is strong enough to stand alone). White yarrow for Sami (our free spirit, so pure).

Then I headed down the trail. So grateful for a selfless friend – a friend who knows.

With new confidence, I said yes to Kara’s offer, but just for the day. I took all the kids up to the cabin again.

While the boys were napping (at Kara’s encouragement) I took off for a hike. The day was different, cloudy and rumbling. I found a steep trail to a nearby cabin and with July waning the wildflowers had finally come into full color. Cone flowers, indian paintbrush, monkshood, yellow buttons – fields of them – everywhere.

We found a field of wildflowers to traipse through just as the rain began to drop. It dotted the pond, our shirts, our faces. The girls picked flowers – bunches of them clutched in small hands – treasured tufts of color.

Kara carried Sami again – careful to avoid the poison ivy – so understanding of Sam’s tired legs.

Ali picked monkshood. Because it’s blue.

And just as we were about to toss the last kid across the creek, Katherine discovered a fellow traveler tucked safely into the fold of her pant leg.

She carried him back to the cabin, where Parker made him a fine house.

That night, when we should have been loading everyone into the car to head home, Dave said to me, “Tonight is not about dishes, or cleaning up, it’s about enjoying the moment.” So we abandoned the messy kitchen and walked out to the pasture for sunset.

The yellow sun blazed soft as we walked among the horses, fed them, slid our hands down their necks, watched the day wind down.

Two of the horses kept nuzzling Eliza. She was so giddy she couldn’t stop laughing. No fear. Just love.

And when Dave’s uncle offered the girls one last ride, I couldn’t say no. So we stayed. Sami found her groove in the saddle and Eliza asked to canter for the first time.

When I went to retrieve the boys from the pasture, I had to laugh. They were parked in the middle of grass and flowers, four horses curiously milling around them.