One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three..
May I recommend--for your camping pleasure--the lovely Payson Lakes campground area? I hadn't been there for years. So I forgot how beautiful it is.
Payson Lakes Campground, Group Site B
Yesterday (and the entire night and day before) it stormed.
My FIL, preparing to turn water into fire
And the storms continued after I arrived last night.
My niece--also my hero--who took her two little girls camping in the rain all by herself
My niece's daughter, in proper rainstorm attire. Note my child in the background wearing swim trunks and bare feet
I lay awake all night in the cozy truck bed counting most of the night. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, one thousand four, one thousand five...
I have been painfully afraid of thunderstorms since I was a child. We rarely had them in Oregon, but every summer I would travel to the family ranch in Randolph, Utah during branding season, which seemed unmercifully to correspond with summer thunderstorm season. And I was scared to death.
My fear remains, although I force myself to put on a brave face for the sake of my kids. But I still unplug major appliances, turn off televisions and computers and phones and make sure candles are prepared. Just in case.
And I count.
My dear husband loves to point out the foolishness in this habit. The THUNDER can't hurt you, he says. And he's right. If that lightening bolt were going to get me it would be all over before I would ever have a chance to start counting.
But I still count.
And I pray.
Last night I was fairly certain the two oldest boys were safe in the back of the van. But I was praying fast and furiously for my daughter and her cousin sleeping in the tent next to our truck.
I pondered the futility of all the practical warnings of what to do in an electrical storm if that storm happened to occur while you were camping in tents in the middle of groves of tall trees nearby a lake on top of a tall mountain.
And I calculated all the paths available in the back of the truck capable of conducting megavolts of electricity. I pictured the death strike traveling through the space between the truck bed and the cab and up along the fishing poles stacked beside me. Could the old mattress I was lying on possibly impede its path enough to save me?
I didn't know.
Fortunately, I didn't have to know.
Darling daughter, storm survivor, during the ROCK painting activity--now you know why I won't let her wear makeup till she's 18 (kidding!)
And today was lovely. Warm sun. Blue sky. Rare wispy tendrils of cloud. Mist on the water.
My baby--Happy 7th Birthday today!--still in his swimsuit and bare feet
Lovely.
Morning breaks across the water
Just lovely.
Payson Lakes Campground, Group Site BYesterday (and the entire night and day before) it stormed.
My FIL, preparing to turn water into fire And the storms continued after I arrived last night.
My niece--also my hero--who took her two little girls camping in the rain all by herself 
My niece's daughter, in proper rainstorm attire. Note my child in the background wearing swim trunks and bare feetI lay awake all night in the cozy truck bed counting most of the night. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, one thousand four, one thousand five...
I have been painfully afraid of thunderstorms since I was a child. We rarely had them in Oregon, but every summer I would travel to the family ranch in Randolph, Utah during branding season, which seemed unmercifully to correspond with summer thunderstorm season. And I was scared to death.
My fear remains, although I force myself to put on a brave face for the sake of my kids. But I still unplug major appliances, turn off televisions and computers and phones and make sure candles are prepared. Just in case.
And I count.
My dear husband loves to point out the foolishness in this habit. The THUNDER can't hurt you, he says. And he's right. If that lightening bolt were going to get me it would be all over before I would ever have a chance to start counting.
But I still count.
And I pray.
Last night I was fairly certain the two oldest boys were safe in the back of the van. But I was praying fast and furiously for my daughter and her cousin sleeping in the tent next to our truck.
I pondered the futility of all the practical warnings of what to do in an electrical storm if that storm happened to occur while you were camping in tents in the middle of groves of tall trees nearby a lake on top of a tall mountain.
And I calculated all the paths available in the back of the truck capable of conducting megavolts of electricity. I pictured the death strike traveling through the space between the truck bed and the cab and up along the fishing poles stacked beside me. Could the old mattress I was lying on possibly impede its path enough to save me?
I didn't know.
Fortunately, I didn't have to know.
Darling daughter, storm survivor, during the ROCK painting activity--now you know why I won't let her wear makeup till she's 18 (kidding!) And today was lovely. Warm sun. Blue sky. Rare wispy tendrils of cloud. Mist on the water.
My baby--Happy 7th Birthday today!--still in his swimsuit and bare feetLovely.
Morning breaks across the waterJust lovely.
Comments
Thunder/lightning storms are amazing and fantastic and awesome and powerful and wonderful, if you grow up seeing them as such. I lived in New Mexico and we had incredible storms. They're almost an aphrodisiac to me now. When I moved to Portland I was surprised by the fact that a place with so much stinkin' rain had so little in the way of nature's light shows. Where we live now, we have huge storms that roll through--love 'em!
Lubbock/ west texas share New Mexico in those thunderstorms. It's a love/hate relationship for me.
Of course, my favorite pictures are the ones with K--in his swim shorts and bare feet.
Notice what happens to the umbrella in the short time from the first picture to the next?
Payson Lakes really is grand. Haven't been there for a few years.
I love that your son never changed clothes once over the weekend. Why waste valuable fun time on mere vanities?
(Glad you all survived!)
(I'm going back to bed now . . . .)
I agree with lisa v. clark --- this girl is not a camper. Motel6 is as close to camping as I get.
Funny you say it was rare to have tstorms in Oregon --- the beginning of our family vacation last week... 2 days of rain & awesome thunder. Love the rumble. Probably why I'm a Harley fan ;o)