Childhood was not an easy or pleasant experience for me. One parent loved me the other did not. Whenever our family would have time for a vacation, it was always somewhere my mother could go fishing. On these trips, my dad would do the cooking and care for us four children so mom could just fish.
I loved these times with my dad. Most of the time my dad was working long hours and we could not spend much time with him. My mom was not fond of me, and she let that be known to me. On these once a year trips, I would get to be with the one who loved me. He would teach me about the animals around us, how to read tracks. We would discuss flowers and rocks. Listen to the wind in the pines trees or the noisy chatter of chipmunks. At night there were stories around the campfire, or learning the constellations of the stars in the bright night sky. There were times, he would have all of us children fish a great distance from my mom so as to not interfere with her relaxation. He taught us how to bait a hook and where to find the fish.
My love of the outdoors comes from the love my dad showed me as a child in the surroundings we were in. Sometimes it was mountains, sometimes in the desert on a river bank. Where ever we were fishing, he would take the time to show me the nature around me.
As I became older, had children, I shared this love for the outdoors and all its’ wonder with my children. We star gazed, studied insects sometimes just from our own yard. Now I share these wonders with my grand children. In these places sharing and learning things about nature and animals, they feel loved as well.
amtolle
Me, Myself and I 