Sweethearts at Pebble Mountain Campground (Mom & Dad, 18 years of marriage)

Pebble Mtn Joyce&NathanThis is one of my favorite photos I’ve taken of my parents.

Many were the good times experienced at this creek! The icy water moved rapidly down this shallow, wide creek.  I spent untold hours in those very rocks, sometimes playing intentionally, sometimes rescuing my book that I dropped (accidentally) while lying on the swinging bridge suspended above the rushing water.  I loved listening to the bubbling, chattering, and general hubub of the water as it made its way elsewhere.  Is there a better way to pass an afternoon than reading in the sunshine listening to that glorious sound?  I didn’t think so then, and I don’t disagree now.

I slept fully clothed, and many’s the morning I pretended to still be asleep while calculating Mom’s location in the house.  When I deemed her far enough from the front door, I would pick up my shoes and book, ease out the front door, closing it ever so gently.  Then I would turn and run like mad, never hesitating as my bare feet slapped the edges and points of the rocks they flew across – for I must keep the wind rushing in my ears such that should Mom have called me I could honestly report that I never heard her.  To the swinging bridge I would dash, blasting across the smooth wood slats as it swayed beneath me.  Attaining the far side, my frantic pace continued until I had run far enough down the creek that the distance and rushing water were certain to drown out even the most bellowing yells of my name.  When deemed safe, I would stop and bathe my burning feet in the cold water until the stinging subsided, pulling my cherished book to my lap and celebrating my success as securing a morning alone to experience my own time travel through the pages of cream colored fiber and black font.  Oh, those were the days!


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