Going on a bear hunt...

As I open the laptop and prep my font and title for tonight's entry, I can feel my skin begin to itch. It starts up where a strand of hair has come loose from my ponytail which has become customary mostly to hide the rapid graying making my once dark beautiful hair look more like the bride of Frankenstein. The itch is becoming contagious and affects my shoulder blade just far enough in the middle that I'll need a large tree or wool rug to ease my discomfort.

Matt and I have been discussing a camping trip with the boys for quite some time now and I was very excited to get out into the great wide open and roast weenies, make ooey gooey smores, sing Kumbaya by the campfire I had started using the tee pee technique and only steel wool and flint, and then wake up in the morning refreshed and invigorated by the sheer cleanliness of the air. So invigorated would I be that fresh coffee would be on the, again built solely by me, fire in a percolator next to the pan of sizzling bacon and eggs. Of course I try not to think of the countless weenies I've lost to the flames because my stick wasn't angled just so. Or the time I had a delicious marshmallow charred to a most superb charcoal black and I swung around to show my mom and my ooey gooey goodness collided with my brother's cheek. Flailing to remove the good-as-glue gob, my poor brother fell in the duck pond. He still has the scar. Then there's the time I got up not so refreshed from sleeping on a large pile of rocks I didn't have the sense to remove the night before to crows greedily pecking at a dozen cracked eggs and a mutilated package of bacon. I don't even know what flint is.

Still fortified by our most recent camping discussions I tagged along with a friend to Snead's Asparagus Farm about 30 miles south of Stafford, VA. Yeah, that's what I thought too. Asparagus? Well, they do farm it and it looks like giant stalks of dill. Still don't know where the little bud comes from at the top. We never saw any of those! However, there were horses, cows, chickens and llamas to be seen as well so we packed our gear and headed out. After a skinny, orange barn cat had been properly rubbed on the belly it jumped up and then ran off ahead. It kept looking back and if to ask "Are you following? I know the way!" After our feline guided tour of pooping livestock, my friend and her son wanted to go on this "walking trail" that was printed on the map we were given at the entrance to Snead's. Sure! Why not? It's mapped and the two bridges looked like fun. Off we go; my friend and her 2 boys and then me and my 2 boys. Looking for adventure like Tom Sawyer. The 1st bridge is a tad bit rickety for my taste and angled so that you feel just a little woozy once you reach the other side. I'm not worried though because I'm prepping for our camping trip so I need some acclamation. The second bridge comes and goes. The fork is next and we consult the map. There's no fork in print. We have to make a decision and I decide that since she has more camping and walking in the forest experience, my friend should decide. We go right. Coming upon a grassy clearing, my spirit is beginning to lift and the tension that began to gather my shoulders to my ears is slowly easing. Wait. We never passed any bee hives! Running to get past what could be a flurry of activity (i don't really know because I never stopped long enough to actually look) of bees bringing home the pollen, we ducked back into the woods for safety.

There is an enormous spider's web and I'm talking more like spider's reinforced hammock hanging in one of the trees and there are leaves and such already in the sticky trap making it look as large as a soccer ball. My skin is literally crawling at this point and hives are visible along my jawline and neck. I am breaking out in anxiety-induced hives because I am in the woods. I am thinking this is really pathetic just as my foot falls through some rotting ground and I grab the boys' hands and walk super fast. They are starting to complain of being tired and thirsty and I am the mom and I have to take charge but the last 3 clearings of some other farm's corn fields were getting me down. Then in a muy muy soft voice I say " We're going on a bear hunt. We're going to catch a big one. What a beautiful day! We're not scared." Knowing full well I look like a complete loon, I charge ahead chanting louder to drown out complaints of thirst and tired legs but also my own manic subconscious. We get out eventually, only being lost for 45 minutes, but long enough for me to realize that camping is not all fun and games. We need a camper.