You can't go back, but sometimes...Oh! How I wish I could!

Mid-August I returned from a much-anticipated weekend with my dad FISHING. When I was a little girl, I remember going fishing on a very regular basis. Each summer, Mom bought me a new sun hat (my freckled skin burned so easily) and her a new book. Dad would then spend a couple hours helping me reel in my big catch (in other words, untangling snag after snag) while Mom sat on the shore reading in a lawn chair. Sometimes I got to take a little friend (Alison), but it wasn't necessary...Dad was enough for me. I relished the attention I got from him. I haven't been fishing like that since all those years ago.

Father's Day rolled around and although I could think of several gifts I would like to give him, I couldn't think of any gifts I could see him getting too excited about. So I told him that for Father's Day, I wanted to come back later in the summer, pay for some fishing licenses, and let my children experience with him what I loved to do so dearly twenty-five years ago. On August 13, I drove out with the kids keeping me company from the back seat (Brett had to work) and relished every moment of the three days I spent with my parents in one of my most favorite spots in the world: the mountains above Vernal. None of us ever knows the length of our stay here on earth, but the memory of that recent weekend will take me, and hopefully my children, through many happy reminiscings to come.

East Park was gorgeous
the light reflecting on the lake,
the crisp air, the lush green of the trees...

I was so proud of the kids.
They jumped right in and helped Grandma set up camp.

It didn't take the boys long before they
were running around enjoying all the open space!

What's more fun: fishing or throwing rocks into the stream?

Halle's big catch: the pine tree.

Poor Mom. She had a book to read but Carson would have none of it.
No rest for the weary...he dragged her around "exploring" every inch of grass.

Finally we got him to sit long enough for a picture.
Then he was off again.

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My camera simply doesn't do the view justice.
It took my breath away.
I'm so grateful for God's creations...it was truly a masterpiece.

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Below is proof that we actually caught something
Actually, our only catch of the day: a 3" ugly sort of creature.
I think it was the only thing left in Soldier Creek!
Wyatt was beside himself with excitement!
(and a little mad we threw his fine-finned friend back.)

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My dad shaves every day without fail.
I've always loved hugging him right afterwards,
pressing my cheek against his and
smelling his shaving cream.

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It rained for about 14 hours straight.
Lucky for us, it didn't start to pour until after we'd returned
to camp from our fishing excursion.
I can't believe how good and patient the kids were being cooped
up in the camper for that extended period of time!
We played games, danced with Grandma to Glenn Miller, and read books!
I actually enjoyed the opportunity to just sit back and relax.

I found this book for Dad's early birthday gift.
It's called The Bitterroot Trail.
I hope he enjoyed it--he seemed to.
It's no longer in print, so I had to settle for a second-hand
copy on good condition. Why this book, one might ask?
It's was published in the thirties and at the time was
very popular--it's a western novel that takes place in
Idaho. My dad was born and raised much of his
life in Idaho. I hoped that by combining his love of that
area with his love of western-fiction, it may have been a winner.

A spirited game of Uno!
(By the way, I bought those cardholders online for the kids.
LOVE. THEM.
They make playing card games with
them so much easier and tons more fun!)
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Halle got a new book from Grandma, part of a series I enjoyed
so much as a young girl. It was fun to see her love
The Boxcar Children
as much as I had. She is definitely my little bookworm.
I can't tell you how pleased I am that she
loves to read as much as she does.
Hopefully books will be something that can always bring her great joy!

Carson got his hands on a harmonica.
It was fun to hear him play it,
for the first five minutes.
The next thirty seemed to drag on forever!
He "breathed" with it.
In, Out, In, Out...over and over again!

Fortunately, we had one night with no rain, so s'mores were obviously in order!
Gotta love campfire smoke!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Standing by his side, feeling the mountain breeze through my hair, and listening to the water ripple by, I watched as my children clung to their grandfather's legs in adoration, blossoming under his patient instruction and care.

Thanks, Dad,
for taking me fishing again.

Bill & Hope Kremin
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Fishing, mid-80's