the forty-secondth one.

Last week (maybe the week before – who is keeping track of the days anyway?) was my birthday.

I decided if there was ever a year for me to take matters into my own hands for my birthday celebrating, this was the year.

When the kids asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday my answer was immediate.

“I want to go find that Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest and see some giant trees.  And.  I want all of your guys to go with me and be happy about it.”

And so we did.

And so they were.

Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest is a spot I have held in my imagination for years.  I don’t recall where I had read about it, but I’ve been asking to go for many many many seasons. And it just never worked out.  Joyce Kilmer, the man with the unfortunate first name according to my children, wrote a poem entitled “Trees” and died in a war.  (And there ends your inadequate history lesson.)

I envisioned calm.  Relaxing.  Giant trees.  Green so green that you want to call it verdant.

I packed our hammocks.

Bergen packed his rain jacket – always the prepared one.

On the drive we laughed and talked.  We listened to our new favorite obsession – The Okee Dokee Brothers.  (I want to write about them soon for you guys.)  And we listened to our current audio book. (Tripp and Tyler play this game – The Million Dollar Game.  A game in which no one is actually awarded a million dollars.  But – I’ll give you a million dollars if you can name the title of our current audio book.)

We even drove right past one of my favorite pottery shops so we dropped in to see the artist at work.

And then we drove some more.

Ryder threw up.  Three times.  Once Mosely caught it like a champ in his water dish.  Once Mosely caught it like a champ – on her leg.

We kept driving.

We found a gas station (just in the nick of time!) and Bergen Hawkeye learned how to wash the window.

We drove on.

We got …. lost.

I asked two dudes in trucks and fishing in some mountain streams where in the world we were.

They kind of told us.  GPS could not tell us anything.

During the drive we developed a phrase.

At every wrong turn and with every retch of the dog and every time the GPS said “still searching” we would say, in a comedic voice, “BIRTHDAY!”

And on we drove.

Asked more strangers at campsites for their help.

Finally.  Finally.  Finally.  We arrived at Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest.

And it looked pretty stinkin’ normal.

 

We pretended to be pretty upset, but actually – we were glad to get some fresh air and move our legs.  I don’t even want to tell you how long the drive was because of all of our misdirection.

Besides, someone said “BIRTHDAY!” and we all felt better.

 

We were determined to hike the trail and see giant trees.

So we walked.

Ryder was a great little hiking buddy.

We saw a snake.  And a tree that was kind of cool.

 

The path was narrow and it was quiet and it did have a certain kind of peacefulness about it.

It was pretty lush and green.

It was a wild feeling path as ferns and brush were growing up and over the trail and you almost felt as if you were breaking new ground as you walked single-file along it.

 

The kids were in fabulous spirits – chipper and kind and joking as we walked.

(It was all the birthday gift I truly wanted from them.)

There was a frog.  Who was named Joyce.  And for whom Berg produced a small mason jar he had stashed in his back pack for just such a found treasure.

 

We found one giant tree at the trail’s center that took all five kids holding hands to fit around its girth.

 

At almost exactly the mid-way point, where in either direction you went the time to return back to your car was the exact same mile, the rains appeared.

I mean, the rains!

Bergen calmly unpacked his rain jacket and zipped it up – all snug and dry inside its plastic-y goodness.

We grinned at him and someone said, “BIRTHDAY?” and so we just laughed at the silliness of this whole trek.

 

But we hiked on.

I didn’t hang a hammock up.

I wouldn’t describe that hike as relaxing.

Some parts of the woods, however, did earn the title of verdant.

 

There was certainly genuine beauty to be found at ye olde Joyce Kilmer.

 

 

Shoot, the whole wet hike might have been worth it just to snap this charming memory of a picture at the end.

 

We happened to have towels in the car so we dried off, loaded up and left Joyce Kilmer in our dust.

(Except – there was no dust.  Just some wadded up paper towels with dog vomit in them that we placed carefully in their proper receptacles at the trail head parking lot.)

On the way home we stopped at a quaint river side burger joint that Beth and I had visited on a long ago rafting adventure.

 

You know, it wasn’t even close to the 42nd birthday I might’ve imagined for myself at some earlier point in life.

But – in lots of big and small ways – a drenched hike with my favorite people was pretty much exactly what I would have picked for BIRTHDAY!