Oregon Part 2, Camping

On our trip out to the coast with all the Howards we camped in a beautiful campground at Bullards Bay state Park.  Grandma and Grandpa lived it up with a rented Yurt while the rest of us roughed it a whole fifty feet away from the flushing toilets and hot showers.

 

Oregon Part 2 , Portland

We headed back to Oregon in June after school got out.  This time it was for a coastal camping trip with all the Howards.  The kids most likely won't remember the very long drive but I'm sure they'll remember the awesome hotels we stayed in (of which we didn't take any pictures).  Matt had a lot of hotel points saved up from all his trips to Wyoming and we used them all.  These kids have no idea how spoiled they were.

What we did get pictures of was our little stroll through the Oaks Bottom wildlife refuge along the Willamette river in Portland.

The frogless "frog viewing area"

This path earned an "awesome" from Joanna for it's pacman motif

Fryer Family Campout

The Fryer clan finally did it.  We've talked about having a big family camping trip for a while now.

My dad rented an RV, Doug borrowed some canoes and kayaks and we headed up to a beautiful area in the Manti-La Sal mountains with twin ponds.

There was a lot of kayaking

Matt and Ethan

and crashing of said kayaks

Ben and Ethan

and taking lazy rides in kayaks

Ben and Annabelle

and swimming

and thinking about swimming

and riding in the back of the truck between the campsite and ponds

and hanging out with cousins

and lazing in the hammock (really, camping is so much better with a hammock in the shade somewhere)

and hiking

Matt, Andrew, and Cocoa

and whittling

Andrew, Ben, and Kent

and making of tie-dye shirts.

Repeat.

Ben and one of the beavers.  There was also an Osprey that made quite a few appearances.

I think I'd call it a success

Matt, Joanna with my dad's puppy Snickers, Dad, Andrew and Alexis

(Some of you may be thinking "hey, some of those pictures look familiar".  I borrowed them from your facebook.  Thankyou.)

For as long as I can remember this has been a familiar view:

This piano has been one of the constants in my life.  I've been playing on it since I was five years old, at least actual tunes that is.  I was plinking out my own "music" long before that.
 

Yet this year, along with so many other things once constant,  even the piano has changed.  It no longer sits in my mom's living room, but in mine. 

 

Don't ask me how I feel about that.  You have a fifty-fifty chance of getting excitement or tears.  At least I get the delightful chance to watch history repeat itself: