Raspberry Days

Wednesday evening I rounded the stairs to our cabin basement just in time to see a snake--its body a repetition of forward shifting S's--move unhesitatingly down the hallway, into a bedroom, and under a bed. This immediately struck me as the most sinister place a snake could possibly hide: just beneath the spot I tuck my trusting little ones in--with hugs, prayers and assurances of safety.

That thought ought to have filled me with enough protective, motherly outrage to have marched into the room, thrown beds aside, and boldly grasped snake in hand. 

Instead, ... I uttered a muffled scream (innately understanding, even amidst the startling suddenness of my discovery, that a loud scream about snakes under beds might sabotage bedtime ... maybe forever), and called for Daisy. Mike and Abe weren't there, and Daisy? Well, she's a problem solver--logical and unafraid to tackle a task at hand. 

She thought for a brief moment, then quickly donned some gloves, pulled the bed from the wall, and, with me hesitantly shooing the snake towards her with a broom, scooped it up, showed it to the kids, and released it into our thistles. Bravo, eldest daughter!

And that's how this Bear Lake trip started.

We'd come for Raspberry Days though, so there were plenty of adventures beyond the snake. 

There was a little local fair where the kids bought a few fake Lego people. (Like this Frodo who I later found stabbing Sting into my watermelon.):

There was an evening, dog-eat-dog parade where, despite fortune favoring the bold (the bold being several very determined 10 year-olds next to us on the parade route), our kids managed to come away with a several tootsie-rolls, a handful of salt-water taffy, and ... a feeling of disdain for whoever made the float advocating a change in the name of The Bear Lake Monster.

The majority of the weekend was very wet. (Lots and lots of rain!) So we only had one small beach excursion. I forgot a swimsuit for Starling, and the suggestion that she put on the orange, toddler swim trunks and swim shirt that we had stashed in a cabin closet reduced her to such sobbing protests that she swam in (and soaked) her usual day-wear: a pink shirt and pink shorts. (I counted recently: there are five total articles of clothing--that includes tops and bottoms--that Starling will willingly wear.) 

And later, when we were heading to the Laketown Rodeo (incidentally, at one point I overheard Summer and Mette arguing about something or other and caught this bit of spite: "And besides, it's a RODEO not a RADIO!"), and discovered I'd forgotten to pack Starling's pink sweatshirt (why?) (and the green one we had stored at the cabin elicited the same feelings of revulsion that the orange swim trunks had), she just went bundled in her pink blanket--which, like her pink clothes at the beach, got fully soaked (as we all did) by several bouts of heavy rain.

Several times during the rodeo they called various age groups down to chase piglets, etc. (The winner could choose to keep the piglet or give it back and receive $10. Mike could hardly believe anyone would be city-slicker enough to just give back the piglet--which could sell "for at least $125". Though do you want to drive home with an unexpected piglet in your car? Do you? ... Mike would say the obvious answer to that is: "Yes".)

In any case, several of our kids went down at various times for some of these contests. At one point they called all kids 5 and under to come chase a chicken. Mike had taken Hans to the bathroom so we assumed he'd miss his chance. But then one of my kids yelled, "Look! Hans is out there!" And sure enough, Mike was just lifting him over the railing and into the arena. 

He was wearing flip-flops. And it was muddy. He looked hesitant and unsure exactly what to do in this throng of eager-children chomping at the bit to be let loose on a chicken. But, as they all started running, he slowly gained momentum. And in the stands? There were nine siblings--delighted and cheering and exuberantly pointing out his every move to each other. When he made his way shyly and proudly back up to us in the stands (having never so much as touched the chicken), there was high-fiving, back-patting, praising, and Daisy promising him a dollar back at home. It might have been my happiest moment of the whole trip. Just ... this little pleasant boy of mine ("pleasant" is a word we often use to describe him) having so many people that adore him as much as I do. I just felt the support system I'd built for my kids by having this large family, and it made me feel so much joy.

But! Moving on: there was also a hike along our old Limber Pine trail. It rained several times again, and Penny carried along our large beach umbrella the entire time.

(Again with Starling bundled up in ... and soaking her blanket. Inconvenient since she can't be parted with it long enough for me to wash or dry it without a great deal of weeping.)

There was, I'm sad to say, a disappointing boat parade. (Though the beach was pretty at night after a rainy afternoon and evening.)

And there were a million other small things. 

Lazy mornings sleeping in and then lingering on the couch.

There was running with Starling in the jog-stroller. (Which is something I haven't really done with her before. And it was a great relief to her to be told she could come with me--rather than be left to cry at my leaving [which she always does--bless her].) And there was Mike coming to rescue us in the truck when the rain got especially wild during our Saturday run.

There was Mike buying me chocolate covered raspberries not once but twice. (And the girls buying me Bear Lake raspberry taffy. "Look mom," they said after a trip down to Mike's Market. "We bought you these. ... With your own money."

There was more Chinese Checkers played than there has been in the past. And loads of coloring pictures (and Daisy puzzling) at the kitchen table. That included these gems from Penny. She turned these famed characters' names into versions of friend titles and insisted on everyone voting for the friend they would most like.

And there were morning sightings of this mother turkey with all here babies going along their little morning route past our cabin.

And there was church at the Bear Lake Visitor's Branch. (Luckily we were too slow getting ready for the 10:30 session and made it for the noon session instead. There were only several hundred people there at noon. Apparently there had been about 1,200 at the 10:30 session! [And only 750 chairs in the building.]) Since we visit the cabin year round, it's fun to see how that little branch fluctuates. We've been there with only about twenty people before (and when you consider that we are ten of those people, that's not much). Anyway, here we are half ready before church (all these girls in yellow were an unexpected and happy sight). And again after church. I have grown to love this scene of everyone waiting for Mike to come unlock the cabin. (They are all in the shot. Hans is just hidden behind a post.)

It was a good trip.