Bugs, Campfires and Bread

What with two lots of company, babysitting and illnesses, it's been a hectic and draining few weeks here in Anvilcloudia. So, it was that both Cuppa and I luxuriated in the quietude of a slow-paced Monday. The only real item on the agenda was for me to attend a jam session on Monday evening, something that is hardly a chore. However, at the event, fatigue caught up with me, and I found my brain beginning to shut down less than halfway through the session. Cuppa has an expression: "It feels likes someone has pulled the plug and I'm circling the drain," and for almost the first time that expression seemed aptly descriptive of my Monday evening letdown.

However, on the way home I found solace in the knowledge that Tuesday should have been another fairly relaxing day as should the next few after it. Alas, I came home to the news that Althegal was very anxious to get to the cottage on the next day and would really like to meet us there. Of course, since get-togethers are few with our west coast daughter, we knew we'd make the effort.

Come Tuesday morning the p[lot thickened when Thesha called letting us know that Zach was sick and wondering if we could we babysit Nikki Dee during Zach's medical appointment. Shortly after, we heard further news from Althegal. They would be getting to the cottage around three o'clock and would need us to supply the key. Meanwhile, Cuppa also had a hair appointment, so we couldn't leave until about three, but we promised to get there as soon as we could. After all ...

... which of you, if his son makes a request for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he makes a request for a fish, will give him a snake?(Mathew 7:9-10, Bible in Basic English)

So, off we went on a three-hour drive into the Canadian hinterland to offer our hapless white but succulent bodies to both the black flies and the mosquitoes. In less than twenty-four hours we fellowshipped with the girls around the table, in the sunporch, and by the campfire, before tiredly journeying the three hours back home with much less blood flowing in our veins. However, we felt good in the knowledge that we had made the effort to be there for our kid and also to support the insect population of the forest with aour blood. Yes, we were leaving many happy and sated bugs behind. I felt sure that I could glimpse them in the rearview mirror waving contentedly and languidly on their blood-induced high as we pulled away.

But more importantly than donating our blood, we also gave our daughter bread rather than a stone, and isn't that what parents are supposed to do?

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Following: a few photos around the campfire. Bug jackets are prevalent in some, and some are taken by holding a flashlight in one hand and the camera in the other. The perpetrator of the event, Althegal, is the subject of the first photo and manages to get into most of them. The little fellow, bug-jacketed from almost head to toe, in the last photo is her nephew by marriage.