I inherited a lot of things from my mother, but two things are for sure: hazel eyes and a love for the outdoors.

I grew up across the street from a lake and spent a great deal of my time outside, adventuring. If I wasn’t swimming or canoeing, I was ice skating or sledding. I also spent a lot of time riding bikes and hiking.

One of our favorite local hikes was down The Old Boyscout Trail. Back in the early 1900’s, it was a railroad line, but by the time I was a kid, the tracks had been torn up and nothing was left but a path on the old right-of-way. Echo Lake sat just off the trail, and it was a favorite spot for sitting on the willow-lined bank and fishing, or just contemplating life. Even though it was a stone’s throw away from town, I could drink in the fresh air and the sunshine, and believe I was somewhere far away.

A great blue heron in flight — truly a thing of beauty.

We were a scouting family; my parents were volunteers (and later, my mother was a professional within the organization), and my brothers were both involved. I had the unique experience of spending an entire summer living in a Boy Scout camp in Wisconsin. I was around 6 years old at the time, so I didn’t think it was nearly as fascinating as I might have, had I been older. 😉

Over the years, there were plenty of camping trips, hikes, and I was a scout in my own right: first as a Camp Fire Girl and then as an Explorer Scout. After I became a young adult with a job, Mom and I still went on camping trips, just the two of us; our favorite place to go was the middle of a scout camp (no scouts present at the time), with 2800 acres to ourselves. (Okay, there was a ranger on staff, but it was still pretty secluded!) We pitched a tent on the lakeshore, built a fire, watched the embers disappear into the dark as we talked, and hoped the coyotes would stay at bay. We canoed the lake; she hooked a large mouth bass, and I hooked her earlobe and had to remove the hook while balanced in the canoe in the middle of the lake.

One of my biggest regrets in gaining as much weight as I allowed myself to gain has been the loss of freedom I always felt in the outdoors. Carrying too much weight limited my movement; no more hikes, no more boating, and even tent camping became quite difficult. It’s only been lately that I’ve started being able to enjoy these things, again.

Over the course of this past spring, I’ve been taking Mom on ‘field trips’ to local campgrounds; we’ll drive somewhere for a small picnic and just get outside and enjoy the things we both enjoyed when we were younger. This past week, it was a trip to a campground on the Arkansas River, where we watched a great blue heron work the river bank while we ate lunch at a picnic table nearby. An enormous turtle sunned itself on an outcrop, with smaller turtles wedging in to share the space. Canadian geese were everywhere, and we spied several young geese, still fuzzy and gawky.

Losing weight and gaining mobility means I’ve been able to regain a small bit of my prior outdoor activities; the love of it has never left me, only become smaller. I regret that I was so selfish in having allowed myself to be robbed of years when I could have still been actively doing these things with my family; with my mother, who taught me to love the outdoors with gusto. I yearn to live that larger life, again, and to adventure, and see where the trail leads me.

Thank you, Mom.