The Salmon Run

(Locals will recognize how long this post has been sitting in my drafts.)

Every fall we pack up our family to visit the local fish ladder and watch as tens of thousands of salmon impressively make their way back from the Pacific Ocean to spawn. I say "impressively" for two reasons. The journey is not easy, for one. But perhaps most impressive is the fact that after each of these salmon navigate their way through feeding grounds across the north Pacific, they return as mature salmon to the very creek they were born. The very same creek. Amazing.

But how do they do this? Recent studies point to a homing instinct tied to the earth's magnetic field that guides them to the very place they entered the sea as young salmon. After that, olfactory clues kick in, helping them find their way to their specific natal stream. 

My older children understand a lot of this from school and in these photos I see them fascinated by these great salmon acting on pure instinct.

I don't think we're much different. Only we're so "clever" that we sometimes override the instinct that would guide us home. It's really our privilege to do so--a God-given right to exercise agency and choose for ourselves.

I know my children, like all of us, will sometimes override their pure instincts toward their heavenly home. This is part of the mortal experience we're here for--not necessarily to wander, but to exercise our agency in the pursuit of exaltation. When we've chosen to set aside the natural inclinations of our spirit, when we wander and are lost, we can find hope and home in the Savior.

I hope my children understand this, too.

The Zoo

First of all, whether you commented on my blog, Facebook, or messaged me privately, thank you for all of the encouraging comments following yesterday's post. I don't blog for comments but I treasure those heart-felt ones I do receive. 

Now on to some fun photos--

Whether it was the Woodland Park Zoo when we lived in Seattle or the Toledo Zoo when we lived in Michigan, my older children (then younger) were often asking me to hold them up so they could better see the orangutans and lemurs. Come to think of it, this may explain some of their table manners!

But last month I realized that somehow in Lyla's three years of life, she has not yet made it to the zoo. What?!

I immediately shuffled around the puzzle I call my calendar and last week Lyla and I headed to the Cougar Mountain Zoo.

Below is just 30 seconds of the excitement that went on for over an hour as she ran up, down, and everywhere in between.

She kept this pace going to cover the zoo three times over--it's really small.

She loved the cranes.

And the wallabies.

And the McCaws. 

But most of all, she loved feeding the alpacas.

Clearly, the whole experience was a total drag for her.

150 Mile Summer- Part 3

I remember being a young mother sitting in the living room of our student apartment over ten years ago. As my two small children tinkered there in front of me with Legos and plastic kitchen food, I wondered if I would ever have anything wise to say to them. Aren't children supposed to grow up and think back on some simple, but powerful, bit of wisdom they learned from their mother--something Mom always used to say? 

Would I ever say anything wiser than "never put play dough up your nose?"

It was a few weeks ago when I turned around to see Sophia struggling up the mountainside behind me. Her head was bent down in hopelessness and she was laboring over every step. It was a steep climb and we had been at it for a good while. The hot sun reflecting off the rocks around us settled oppressively on Sophia, adding extra weight to what was already the difficult task of moving forward.

Sophia is not usually one to complain while hiking. In fact, she usually leads the pack. But the trail to Snow Lake had her just about beat. Nothing in her posture reflected momentum or purpose. It was draining just to watch her.

"Go forward with purpose," I heard myself say to my daughter.

Go forward with purpose? Where did those words come from? They sounded sort of...wise, which immediately made me doubt they came from my mouth.

With Sophia plodding up only a few feet at a time between water breaks, I had plenty of time to consider the idea that just maybe our 150 mile summer would turn into the kind of memory I had hoped. Something our children could look back on and find real growth- wisdom even. And all at once in my mind came this collage of sage advice that somehow mysteriously escaped my mouth at one point or another this summer--

We can do hard things.

Hard things are always easier with a smile.

Go forward with purpose.

Stick to it. Follow through.

Weird. I'm pretty sure it was only yesterday I told someone not to stick play dough up her nose--I'm not talking about Lyla, either.

And if my children don't immediately appreciate all that wisdom and the persuasive family experiences that went along with it, they can someday read them here. When they do, I hope it will all come back to them and be magnified.

I can't end this three-part series about our 150 161 mile summer without sharing two noteworthy traditions attached to our family hikes. The first is turning on The Vinyl Cafe for some great stories on the ride home. If Stuart McLean hasn't told his way to the end of Dave and Morley's latest shenanigan by the time we pull in the driveway, we all sit there and stare at the garage door until he has. Our family loves good storytelling.

The second tradition sometimes serves as a slight distraction from the first, as each of us tries to stifle the noise of our growling stomachs. No matter how many snacks we snarf down along the trail, we inevitably get back in the car absolutely famished. 

The kids got so hungry on the way down from Cooper Lake that by the time they reached the car, they had a pretty catchy chorus going.

Gotta love the "you're out of tune" Beau manages to squeeze in at the very end.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to build memories and grow "wiser" with my children. Sometimes I wonder who's raising whom.

Click here and here for more about our 150 mile summer.

150 Mile Summer- Part 2

Hiking Tip #1: Being chased by a pack of ankle-biting zombies can be highly motivating. 

As our family has hiked deep into the Cascade mountains, we've found that packing plenty of snacks, donning imaginary "flying shoes," and yes, a good game of zombie tag all help to subdue the waning enthusiasm that inevitably kicks in somewhere around mile two. When all else fails, three-minute piggyback rides come in pretty handy, too.

Surprisingly nobody ever wants to be left behind on our next hike.

Some of our little hikers are better accessorized than others.

Taking a break along the Denny Creek Trail.

Hiking Tip #2: Planning day hikes along rivers where the kids can swim, climb waterfalls, and skip rocks is the way to go.

Keekwulee Falls

Nothing like a well-skipped rock along the Cooper River to put a smile on this boy.

Which is exactly what we had in mind when we tried to find an old trail that we had hiked with a much younger Beau over ten years ago.

As our memories helped navigate our way closer to the trailhead, we remembered the beautiful drive along the Skykomish River. Through the trees we caught glimpses of the sunlight as it danced playfully along the same current my husband, Wes, kayaked years before.

Then, about five miles down the road, we stopped the car.

Because we came across something we did NOT remember.

I think it might be a while before we ever hike Troublesome Creek trail again. Or even GET TO the trailhead.

Hiking Tip #3: Be prepared to enjoy a spontaneous change of plans.

Thirty miles left to go of our 150 mile summer.

No Plans

Wes and I stink at making vacation plans. Seeing a long weekend coming up in August, we started tinkering with ideas of what to do with it some time in July. Mostly this would happen too late at night as one or the other of us fell asleep.

Finally we found ourselves on day one of our four-day weekend with no plans. I woke up with dreams of watching my children splash in a shallow swimming hole only a few hundred feet from a quiet lake house in the mountains. The kitchen counter would, of course, be piled high with foods normally forbidden at home- Lucky Charms, Oreos, and Doritos.

Having a family large enough to necessitate two hotel rooms and ridiculous amounts of food has made renting a vacation home with a kitchen a financially sound option for us. So, we spent most of the day clicking around online and making a bajillion phone calls only to confirm the unavailability of any decent, yet affordable, lake house this side of the Mississippi. Turns out most other families make vacation plans in advance. What?

With everything booked, I came up with an alternate list of fun things to do. Go for a hike? Head to the beach? Camp? Maybe take a ferry ride across Puget Sound? Lots of great options.

But somehow by 3 pm that afternoon, yanking out nature's barbed wire (a.k.a. invasive blackberries) made it to the top of the list of "fun" things to do with day one of our vacation.

I'm all for being productive but my forearms look like I got into a cat fight...and lost.

On day two of our vacation, I woke up with determination to get out of Dodge. Just after breakfast Wes and I agreed on a destination and we piled everyone into our Ford Explorer. This is really getting to be a bit of a tight squeeze and sometimes the noise of five loud children crowded into that small space is anything but a vacation. 

But happily the drive out to Whidbey Island was great. Lyla only spent five minutes making us all miserable until she fell fast asleep. Halle conked out about twenty minutes later, leaving the oldest three children to laugh, sing at the top of their lungs, and duck for cover when their Dad pulled up beside an ill-clad teenager, rolled the windows down, and cranked up the rap music. It could only be worse if their mother were raising the roof in the front seat. Wait, that might have happened. Yep, pretty humiliating for the pride under cover in the back seat, but they're good sports. It can't be all that bad to have such rad parents, right? ...Ahem.

We spent the afternoon at Deception Pass where Beau tried fishing in the swirling current.

The kids dipped their toes in the very cold water. Brrrr... Why on earth did we bring swim suits?

We can't go anywhere without adding to our growing rock collection.

Of course, they played in the sand. Apparently Beau dug quite a hole...

Before he got buried in the sand.

When Halle's lips started turning purple and Lyla had gotten enough sand in her eyes, we called it a day and headed for the ferry terminal.

No lake house. No kitchen counter stocked with contraband food. But a great day spent making lasting memories as a family.

150 Mile Summer (Part 1)

It was sometime around May when the conversation started.

"So, what are we going to DO this summer?"

Well, sleep in, for starters. That one scored pretty high on everyone's list...except for Lyla's. Unfortunately two-year-olds just don't see the appeal.

But after everyone in the house eventually rolled out was dragged out of bed, we could head to the library and gorge ourselves on good books of all sorts.

We would take trips to the Zoo and visit local museums. We would play at the beach, build our giant slip and slide, and get together with friends.

And, of course, we would hike. 100 miles? Too easy. 200 miles? A bit of a stretch with everything else we had planned. But everyone agreed 150 miles this summer was a manageable goal.

Because my children are suckers for checklists and progress charts, Sophia decided to make a poster.

In June we hiked to the top of Cedar Butte. Halle was particularly excited to reach the top and find what her mom and older sister had come home laughing about last year. What six-year-old wouldn't look forward to reading "Ceder Butt" on an official geographical marker?

We hiked to the top of Little Si.

And the kids all joined the polar bear club with their Dad at Talapus Lake. I'm sure it was refreshing after the two mile climb in 80 degree weather, but I chose to stand back and take photos. My husband was not surprised. He knows the only time I have ever jumped into an alpine lake was while we were dating. And the more I tell that story to my kids, the more sheets of floating ice appear in the climax. Yes, I liked him that much.

And I sure do like all these little hiking buddies we've created!