So it was the annual maple syrup festival at the Lutheran Memorial Camp in Morrow County. Unlike other years, when snow or bitter chill is in the air, this was a balmy 70 degrees. The camp is the place of many memories, as I first visited here on a school field trip when I was in second grade to see the actual syrup making. The syrup cabin, and all the equipment, is, alas, long gone. It is now just made fresh for this festival in a much smaller operation, there not being enough funds or staff to make all they used to make. Syrup still is imported from local syrup makers, but it still misses something. I would come back several times in my school years; to our sixth grade camping experience in November, and as a camp counselor myself in 1983 and 1984. But the old school, like so many, no longer comes here. Hence the reduction in funds and staff. Perhaps the hipper zip-line and rock wall camps are preferred, or perhaps the religious themes of the camp are a worry. I don't know. I just know it was good fun in its day, and I hope the family had a small shard of what I once enjoyed in the dim, shadowy reflections of years so long ago.
Oh, and the syrup wasn't just good. It was darn good.
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| The family on the way to some good eatun! |
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| Run boy, run! |
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| The Mom, the Baby, 'nuff said. |
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| Yes, those were pancakes with syrup straight from trees a hundred yards away. |
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| The boys. |
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| Our eleven year old looking strangely pensive. |
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| Our ray of sunshine flanked with by real things |
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| I know, he looks like he should have his own family by now. |
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| He's too fast; I'm glad to get a picture at all, much less a face shot. |
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| Our youngest with his favorite playmate, the awe at which he holds his older brothers is oh, so visible. |
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