I remember waiting as a kid to go Up North. And once there, usually after the summer solstice we had two weeks or so to do everything cool. Even later when I worked Up North in the summer, staying with Grandma for a month or more, it was a mad dash to squeeze as much as possible out of the short time here. Nothing has changed now that we live Up North. And yesterday marked the start of summer with our first dinner on the beach. We’re late. Memorial Day usually initiates the first picnic.
Staring into the campfire flames I checked off a mental list of things we’d started this summer … first row boat ride for my daughter, first beach fire, first roasted marshmallows, first sunset watched from the beach … and some planned events thwarted by weather … first sail, first swim. The fire exploded sending sparks, coals and me into the air. Having brushed away or stomped on any imminent danger, I realized that a single spark can initiate a great deal of action … a single spark.
And driving home I promised I’d put together a list of all the firsts to squeeze the most out of Up North this summer, despite our late start.