Our mountain get-away this year was to
Grandfather Mountain. We drove most of the way up but did a short hike to the top. The big news is, Puddin' climbed it herself. She needed a little bit of help climbing up rocks half her height but other than that she was a total trooper. Peanut was thrilled to be out and moving so she zoomed ahead repeatedly. Peanut often feels the need to blaze the trail and this was even more true out there on an actual trail. Monkey had a harder time getting engaged but eventually found her groove, looking at rocks.
The other big news is that all three girls climbed the
swinging bridge (suspension bridge a mile above sea level, connecting two peaks on the mountain) without a moment's hesitation. I, however, was a wuss. I had horrible images of traumatically losing my family and froze. I think that I could have done it if I were on my own but not with my darlings there, which I pondered fruitlessly while I waited. How can I love the mountains so but have such strong reactions to the height? Is this new since motherhood or did I repress earlier fears out of foolish pride? Maybe some day I'll understand. While I mused, I could see the crew because of Peanut's bright pink shirt. Sitting on the safe side while they climbed
very close to the edge was terror-inducing but I passed the time by taking pictures for other families that were just as cowardly as me.
Eventually they came wandering back to me and we all moved along. The little hike down was a bit tougher on Puddin' but she still insisted on doing it all herself. We convinced her to accept a little hand holding and all was well. I find it amazing what small ones will do when we give them the chance. Hopefully I'll remember that tomorrow when they're each asking for something to do.
In addition to hiking we also stopped to see the
animal habitats. The group that runs the mountain has zoo-like enclosures for local wildlife so that visitors can get acquainted with Blue Ridge natives. The bears were impressive but shy. The deer are a pretty common sight, even in our suburban world. The cougar wouldn't come out to play. The otters, however, were charming. Each of the girls came away with an appreciation of otters and a desire to play with them. Many years ago, my father put a copy of
Ring of Bright Water in front of me and I've longed to have otters friends ever since. I hope my daughters will stay interested long enough to read the book with me sometime soon.
Our final stop on the mountain was the
fudge shop. The glee was immense, and so was the pile of fudge we carried out of there. Each of us chose a flavor to share and we gorged ourselves on a fudge buffet for the next few days. In case you stop by: the dark chocolate fudge is deceptively simple, and elegantly tasty. Deep, rich chocolate that slowly seeps into the taste buds. Scrumptious.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. We arrived at our hotel after bedtime but still decided to indulge in quick late-night family swim. Monkey and Peanut were amazed at the heart shaped jacuzzi tub in the middle of the room. We almost let them use it but ran out of time the next morning. That would have been quite the picture, though. Too bad we couldn't make it work.
We arrived at camp just in time and both Monkey and Peanut went running off to greet their friends, which is just as it should be, but for 24 hours they were ours. These moments are becoming more rare so they are also increasingly valuable. All 5 of us, bound together with love and nature.
Puddin' sings random songs all day long. Sometimes the songs narrate her day but more often, they are words and sounds strung together in nonsense phrases. Today, in the midst of one of these songs, Puddin' sang the line "it's all ok and I know you love me even when you're not here" and then morphed back into the Dali-esque lyrics she's known for. I took a moment to soak that one in. She knows that she is loved, regardless of whether or not the people offering that love are tangibly present.
