CAMPING IN THE WILD!

What a kid! Nathaniel Wallace, our son, has grown up since he and I drove north to

Algonquin Park in the summer to camp; a three-hour drive north from Woodbridge.

He was seven years old when I first took him there. Only the two of us along

with the cedar-strip canoe tied down on the car roof .

I told him before we left that first time he wouldn't be sitting in the bow

while I did all the paddling. I'd bought him his own authentic wood paddle

and I expected him to use it while kneeling in the bow. He'd also have to learn

to paddle on both sides of the canoe.

I remember him grinning at him. "You don't expect me to do both ," he said,

"at the same time!"

Writer's comment: Nathaniel still has the same sense of humor. It didn't seem

long before I was the one in the bow of our canoe. I'd stop paddling from time

to time to take in the beauty of nature around us and catch my breath. "Hey, Dad,"

I'd hear him call out from the stern. "I didn't bring you along to gawk at nature.

Keep paddling or I'll dump you overboard!"

I SEE THEM: BARELY

The trees outside my office. have been bare all winter.

By now, almost the middle of April, I'm pining (sorry for

the pun) to see little buds appear. It's too early?

Not really. Only Mother Nature will decide

when spring will land on our doorstep. I enjoy the winter months here in southern Ontario.

Despite having to shovel snow. Scrape ice off

the deck. When March finally rolls around it's either

raining, or damp or bleak.

Writer's comment: Stick your nose out the door

about now and you can almost smell it. And the birds, many

of them having spent the winter down south, perch

on the deck railing outside my office . They chirp

to let me know summer is on the doorstep.