Change has never been easy for me. Could be just a genetic thing seeing as how I'm a Swede/German hybrid. Been told us Northern Europeans are slow to adjust. No doubt there are deeper, more profound reasons for my torpor but I'll simply go with it not being my fault.
My wife and I winter along the Gulf Coast in Alabama. It's an between kind of place. There are those who find Hawaii and the upscale parts of Florida more to their liking. And there are those who find the moral purity of the snowed-in far north satisfying. Some of the reasons for choosing involve the soul, some the pocketbook. Yes sir, the bank account has a lot to say about what we do. As a result we winter in the indecisive middle. The north side of the Gulf suits me well yet I find it hard to leave Minnesota in December and even harder returning in April. My body may travel twelve hundred miles in two days but it takes a few more before my mind and soul catch up. It's not easy being a stick in the mud. Like I said, change doesn't come easy with me.
In short, we're back in the north and that's good though I feel beat up and bone tired. Gets me looking toward the warm weather months and maybe some time on the water and in the purity of the woods surrounding the cabin.
The spring fling in the Boundary Waters continues to shape up. Canoe's reserved, as is the pre-night room and the trip's become a family thing. While Ryan, Jakob and I are fending off mosquitoes in the boonies my daughter, granddaughter and Lois will be touring the North Shore in more upscale surroundings.
On a meaningless sidetrack, the novel I wrote based on parts of my three blogs is actually starting to sell a few copies. Sure didn't see that coming (truth is I had my hopes).
Choosing an entry point for this canoe trip wasn't easy. Did a lot of soul searching and visualizing things that could go wrong with an eleven year old along. Also gave some thought to having turned seventy. I'd like to say I don't feel any different than ten years ago but that'd be a lie. Paddling the boat and humping the portages aren't the problem. No sir, it's a matter of physical grace. Clambering from a canoe at a rock strew landing is no longer something I do with confidence and becoming one with jagged bedrock holds no appeal. So, I chose a destination lake that requires no portaging and am saying it's for the good of my grandson. That's what grandpas do. The wisdom of age has a lot to do with passing on blame.