30 MAGICAL HOURS IN THE FOREST

Last year, our family skipped out on our annual camping trip; it just wasn't in the cards. And this year wasn't looking too hopeful, either, because of my mental health. Not looking too hopeful, that is, until a friend reached out and shared how much fun her kids had while camping with us a couple of years ago. The more we talked, the more turned onto the idea I became. So in mid July, we whisked our families away for a couple of nights on the Rim (not too far from where THIS happened). It was pure magic. We found two sites together at a little campground along Rim Rd and got our camp set up while listening to a mountain thunderstorm. The kids ran off to play with sticks and bugs and flowers. We swung in hammocks. Made flower crowns. Caught butterflies. It was perfect. On the second day, we decided to drive a little further north to visit family friends of mine in Happy Jack. It was a beautiful visit, but we watched as the sky darkened and decided to cut the visit short. The moment we arrived back at camp, the rain began to fall. We laughed and joked under the safety of our canopy tent, but smiles quickly gave way to concern as the storm moved closer, the rain intensified, and hail began to fall. Within a short period, the ground under the canopy had completely flooded over, so we took refuge in our cars. It was the moment when the canopy collapsed from the weight of the water and the wind that we decided to throw in the towel, pack up, and go home. Even though the trip ended upruptly, it will still have some of the sweetest memories attached to it. But I'm starting to think maybe Rim Rd isn't the place for me...