Over a single weekend, our family hiked, swam, slept in a woodland cabin, and pitched a tent on a hillside—all while supporting community-led projects.
Our children drifted off in the small tent behind us, bundled in two sleeping bags and extra wool blankets. Earlier, I could see only their faces, faintly lit by torchlight, as I read them a book about rivers, the rain drumming on canvas. They fell asleep as quickly as the fog settled in the valley below.
My partner and I sat outside, huddled under a waterproof coat, cheek to cheek, perched on our daughters' foam swim vests because the ground was soaked. We were laughing. As parents, we've come to expect absurdity and beauty to go hand in hand.