two kids from Wilmot...

Over three decades ago a couple of kids got married in Wilmot, Wisconsin.  They went to work, started a family, and made a home.  That home built me.  On the eve of the time of year when we buy Hallmark appreciations for our parents I am grateful for the opportunity to have shared some quality experiences with mine.  No cards or internet ordered flower bouquets delivered as closely as possible to a day on the calendar can compare.  Times like these are the real deal.  

^Just as they have for over thirty years my folks are looking out for each other while they cross over troubled waters together.  Thankfully, this particular situation was probably much less severe then the rapids they've endured together in decades of marriage and children.  However, my mother may disagree.    

^I think that she is calling me an expletive beginning with the letter "F" in this particular photo of her making a big step-up move with arbored assistance.  She may have had severe reluctance in a lot of the situations I put her in, but she always made it.  I knew she could even though she insisted that she could not.

 ^Of course, my pup, Murphy, is not afraid of anything.  She is pictured above wondering why we are still at the bottom of the rocky scramble.  Murphy was a good guide, and she was very in tune with my mother's fears and apprehensions.  It was really something to observe.  At one point I was scouting my mother across a sketchy traversing maneuver around the face of a small cliff.  I was in a fixed position, and as my mom moved passed me and descended toward the last steps of the move I could not guide her through the slick muddy finish on the bank of the rushing creek.  To our astonishment just as I let her go and said, "I can't move any further to spot you so your on your own for these last few steps." Murphy waded into the creek positioning herself in a spotters position between my mom and the creek.  My golden retriever literally guided my mom through the last steps to safety.  Neither my mother nor I could believe what had just happened.  Don't tell me that dogs are not sentient.

^These kinds of situations are somewhat foreign to your average dairylander.  These two are not the spry young Wilmot river rats they once were, but don't dare tell them that they can't do something.  This hike is not for the light hearted, but I knew it was within their abilities.  Even though my mother didn't necessarily believe me.  

^Mother, nervously doubting my direction.  Nonetheless, completing the maneuver unscathed, yet again.

^Sometimes the best way to lead is from behind.  Murphy lets my Dad march ahead to scout the path.

^The finale was a big waterfall.  Bigger than I've ever seen it.  Runoff is going strong this year in the Wasatch.  The high water made the journey that much more arduous, but added value to the experience.   That spells "hell AND high water" for my fifty something mother who is afraid of heights.  However, persistence and spousal cooperation can achieve great things.  I've seen it.  This day.  On this hike.  As well as throughout the childhood they gave me.    

^ Of course, we had to make some ski turns in "June-uary".  Like I said before, the Wasatch runoff is still going strong, and even barely at all at Snowbird.  Christine insisted on taking my Dad skiing while the folks were in town.  No objections from me... duh.

^Like this full moon cresting low in the summer sky, the cycles of life are all around us.  In the moon, in the spring runoff, and in my family's shared generational appreciation of all of it.  I strive for a naturally righteous and inspired existence.  A worthy pursuit impressed in part upon me by those Wilmot kids who took a chance on each other all those decades ago.   Thanks, Mom and Dad.