[stars, stones and spaces]

My life this month has been beautifully wild and unruly. My homes exist in the form of tents and tarps, picnic tables and camp stoves, and a big silver van hauling a trailer full of packs, climbing racks and kayaks. In this month I've gained 20-something adventuring siblings, a fairly distinguishable dry suit tan and a heart full of memories. There have been nights of laying in the grass marvelling at the vast blanket of stars above us. There have been throw bag practises and slack line sessions, all bathed in the warm glow of the lowering sun. And, of course, days when clouds kept out the warmth and pelted us with rain and hail instead. There have been times when I've had body shaking laughter- you know the kind I mean? Complete with a contorted face and tears steaming down it? My ears have been filled with music from the brilliant collections of my classmates, some of it addictive and some of it, (cough* baby monkey riding backwards on a pig*cough), not so desirable. My calloused hands and squished feet have slowly climbed the speckled rock faces of Skaha. My arms and legs have propelled me through the cold waters of the Chiliwack River on a swift water rescue course. And now I'm back in the big silver van. We're driving with a trailer full of kayaks, ready to cross into Washington and throw ourselves into our favourite kind of adventuring. Paddling. Whitewater. Pushing ourselves and learning from the moss bordered rivers on which we travel. I am so thankful for this month- for these friends with fiery souls- and for the stars, stones and spaces that I'm lucky enough to call my classroom.