My brother and sister-in-law wanted to get together the other day.
There's a local legend about a treasure buried near an old furnace in our area.
My brother's done a fair bit of exploring and scouting, but couldn't find it the first time. Maybe this would be the time we found it...
We loaded up and the kids and headed down an old dirt road.
All my best memories begin with an old dirt road.
It was a glorious spring day and the six cousins revelled in the luscious mountain air,
singing folk songs and sea shanties at the top of their lungs as we bounced down the trail.
Eventually we parked and took off on foot, enjoying the frog eggs and wildflowers we found along the way.
All of the sudden, there it was before us,
in all of its 1857 engineering glory.
We were all fascinated.
History is the best when you're standing THERE.
We climbed the works,
peered under rocks,
and looked behind trees. We found no treasure, other the treasure of being together.
When we were through, we decided to drive a bit to see an old fire tower and caretaker's cabin.
We made fabulous memories, wrapping it up at their place with hot dogs and mac and cheese. What could be more quintessentially childhood than that?
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