We went to New Hampshire a lot when the children were younger, staying in a tent and sitting around a blazing fire, roasting marshmallows and laughing. When Steven joined our family and we had another foster baby or two, we had to move up to renting a small “cabin in the woods” as our brood increased and needed to be contained. We had tried tent camping with Steven, who displayed symptoms of ADHD from the moment he started to walk. A campsite was too inviting for him, and we spent the entire time chasing him from among and in the trees. Either that, or he would sit motionless, fascinated at wildlife, watching an anthill for hours on end.

Our conquests of nature were invigorating. To see Ellis Falls, we hiked down into the woods to view the magnificent wall of falling water, sunlight brightly sprinkling off the cascade. Hiking back up was just enough to make us “feel the burn.” Even though it was a short distance, to us it simulated a hike up a long mountain, including the sense of accomplishment when the “peak” (the parking lot with our car) came into view.

The children most liked Lower Falls, an area where the water gushed over large rocks, smooth from the years of abrasion. It was fun to crawl among the rocks, often falling into the river, cold and a welcome respite from the warm sun. When the children aged, they dared fate by sliding down the natural water slide into a small pool of water at the bottom. Hubby and I would bring a cooler of lunch and sit in webbed lawn chairs on the side, closely watching the antics of the children. Steven especially loved this area, as there were many potential wildlife attractions to keep his attention. One year, we hit it right at pollywog season, and Steven and his net were kept busy all day catching the little things (which were, of course, set free before we left.)

Many a time we would picnic next to a stream while the children played. On one particular day, Dinora was a tween and not interested in getting wet, trying to cross the river by jumping rock by rock. As she was returning, she slipped on a rock, and lost her shoe, which was swept away in the surge of water.

We would often take the children out into the lake in our small motorboat. They would go tubing off the end, as Hubby would drive the boat back and forth forcing the tube to cross over the wake. They would fish; catching huge, squirmy, samples of fish, which would be released back into the water. It was so funny if they caught a similar fish, thinking it was the same one, as though the bounty of fish in the water sat by just so that the worm could trick that same fish again. There was a small island where our boat would stop and tie up, allowing the children to grab a huge rope swing which would send them flying into the water. Joyous fun would be had by all.