Bringing up Biscuit: Family Trip, Part 4

One of the traditions on our family trips is building campfires. Having a fire pit is a requirement for the house we stay in.

Marshmallows roasted over a fire is one of my favorite vacation treats. I like them brown and crispy on the outside and soft and smushy on the inside. There's an art to cooking a good marshmallow, and I've had plenty of years of practice to get it right!

My brother is always in charge of building the fire. He is usually a good fire builder. And like my marshmallow skills, he's figured out some tried-and-true routines over the years.

I have to share, though, that one time before either of us was married, he and I went tent camping, and all his fire skills put together barely got a flame started.

We got to our campsite and had a couple of hours until dinnertime. We decided we'd go on a hike. I got out the brochure that showed the trails and figured out one that would take us by a pretty little waterfall and back around by the lake. It should've taken us 45 minutes at the most.

We started walking. We were following colored tags on trees to make sure we were still on the right trail. But it started drizzling rain. We kept walking, thinking we'd be at the waterfall soon, then we could head back to camp.

Then the rain started pouring. Then we got lost. We were still on a trail, but somehow, we were following blue dots on trees instead of the red dots we were supposed to be following.The humidity kept fogging up my glasses so I couldn't see, and it was starting to get dark.

We finally found our way to a paved parking lot, complete with a park ranger sitting in his truck. We told the ranger what had happened, and he offered to drive us back to our campsite. We were very tired and very relieved by his offer. Based on what we told him, the ranger said over the course of 2 1/2 hours, we had hiked a little over 6 miles, most of it uphill.

When we got back to our campsite, we realized that all our wood was wet, and we had planned to have hot dogs cooked on the fire for dinner. We had supplies to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but for some reason we were bound and determined to get the fire started.

My brother, who runs a heating and air company, had a 300-page black-and-white catalog in his truck that he didn't need anymore, and although it took the entire catalog as kindling, he got the fire going. We had hot dogs and roasted marshmallows for dinner. And I think it was the best hot dog and marshmallows either of us has ever had!

On our family trip, the fire didn't present anywhere near that kind of challenge. We had dry fire wood and nice weather. My brother started the flame about an hour before dinner, so by the time we were done eating, the coals were perfect for my marshmallows.

In addition to our treats, we all sat around talking. We tend to have our best conversations around the fire. We share memories. We laugh. We sing songs.

And speaking of singing songs ... the conversation hit a lull, and out of nowhere, my Daddy sang the first line of a song.

"There's a little girl, in our neighborhood," Daddy sang.

Then Mama sang, "Her name is Charlotte Johnson, and she's really lookin' good."

Then I sang, "I had to go and see her, so I called her on the phone."

Then Jeff sang, "I walked over to her house, and this was goin' on."

Then my brother took over.

"Her brother was on the sofa, eatin' chocolate pie.
Mama was in the kitchen, cuttin' chicken up to fry.
Daddy was in the backyard, rollin' up a garden hose.
I was on the porch with Charlotte, feelin' love down to my toes.
and we were swingin' ... yes we were swingin'."

I hated that song when it came out in the early 80s, but for some reason, sitting around the fire with us all singing and laughing like idiots, I enjoyed it.

Another tradition of our trips is random dog visitors. For some reason, we find that dogs are attracted to our clan, and they just show up at the most random times.

The fire was starting to die down, when we hear a jingling noise on the main floor deck. The house was built into the side of the mountain, so the fire pit was actually off the basement, and the main floor deck was one floor up.

We looked up to see a pretty black and white dog strolling along the deck. We spoke to him, and his tail started wagging. He figured out how to get out off the deck into the driveway, then he headed down to our fire.

The dog (we later learned his name was Riley) wandered around to greet each person, then he just laid down by the fire like he was part of the group.

I reached down to look at his tags, and his owner's phone number was listed. We called Riley's owner, and he said he had been looking for him all evening. We waited until Riley's owner came to get him, then we put out our fire and headed inside.

Our fire was a nice way to spend the last night of our trip.

Here are a few pictures: