Little memories

It's the little things in life that matter the most.

Cliche? Yes. Truth? You decide. Think back to your most favorite memories. Your go-to stories. The thoughts that cross your mind when you encounter a specific smell, or return to a specific location. I'd bet the vast majority of those memories revolve around something simple, or unplanned.

Sure, I have lots of memories of a wonderful roadtrip my wife and I took through Ohio and western PA back in 2011 on our honeymoon. Yet, it's the smallest things that we talk about the most. In Columbus, OH there's a restaurant called Thurman Cafe. It's down in German Village, and it has been made famous by an enormous burger they call the "Thurminator."  We had an amazing time one dinner there, but right next store is a diner that probably didn't have 11 booths, called The German Village Coffee Shop.  Had we not gone to Thurman Cafe, we never would have seen it, but the next morning at that diner we had the best damn breakfast we had that whole week.  To this day Jennifer raves about the pancakes, and she's a connoisseur.

We go to my uncle's cabin 2-3 times a year.  We've hiked for miles on the trails. We've driven to amazing nearby places. Yet one of the first things Robert, Jen, and I always look forward to is filling the hummingbird feeder and watching those amazing little birds show up as if on que We've spent an embarrassing number of hours sitting on the porch swing, trying to be still enough for them to come back and really feed for a while.

I find campfires incredibly enjoyable. The meditative relaxation of gathering wood, constructing the fire, then the stretches of quiet and conversation in between the slow and steady maintenance of the fire.  The picture above was a fire I built at my uncle's cabin after a day we had spent playing and riding 4 wheelers with Jen's parents.  After the kids roasted marshmallows, cleaned up, and were tucked into bed, Jen, her mom and dad, and myself posted up around this quiet little blaze, and talked for hours.

I've mentioned before that my camping experiences growing up were more about cabins owned by relatives, and less about public campgrounds. So my first experience taking the boys to a public campground, I was less then happy to find this campground was really more of an RV park, than a cozy wooded campground. So imagine my further disappointment the first morning when I realize I haven't packed a spatula for the grill. Never fear, I've got beer and a metal fork.  The picture above shows my yankee ingenuity, which is a story we've told and retold several times since this originally happened three years ago.

The next time you make big amazing plans, make sure you leave a little space in there for little memories. I'd bet those will become your favorites.

Happy Exploring
Scott M