I am a bad blogger. I haven't felt like writing anything for quite a while, so I...haven't.

We got home yesterday from our trip to Turkey Run state park in the west-central part of Indiana. We went with a group from our church and met up with Pastor Fickel's group from Chesterton and Pastor Foy from Valparaiso (and his children.)

We sang Matins and Vespers daily, as well as some great bible study time with Pastors Petersen, Fickel, and Foy. My mother was in charge of cooking, and armed with a cast iron skillet and dutch oven, an aluminum camp pot, and a charcoal grill, she was able to concoct yummy and filling meals for 30+ people with very little left over afterwards.

The park is lovely, and we were able to enjoy the scenery on our first day. We went on a hike through the woods, along Sugar Creek, and through ravines and gorges. Being the nervous older-sister type that I am, I was very watchful of the younger children we had hiking with us. I know they wouldn't have been allowed to come were the trail not safe enough for them, but I still worried and held little hands whenever I could.

On Thursday we took a short canoe trip down Sugar Creek. It was easy going, and the scenery was beautiful, so it was a very relaxing way to spend a few hours. We stopped halfway for a picnic lunch on the beach. The food went quickly, so we spent the rest of our onshore time skipping rocks across the creek. I found a couple of interesting rocks that I kept, and also a piece of beach glass that I strongly suspect was once part of a beer bottle.

I finally got a tan, after a whole summer of being a glowing, brilliant, shining white. I look much healthier now, and not so much like something that just climbed out of a cave.

Thursday evening we played games in the common room of the inn. Mrs. Fickel, Mrs. Petersen, my mother, Thomas, and I played dominos for the longest time, although it might have gone more quickly if we hadn't been laughing so hard. It was Pastor Fickel's fault. (Incidently, I don't think I'll be able to read anything about Mr. Darcy for a few weeks now. It will conjure all the wrong pictures.)

On Friday we went horseback riding, something I had been looking forward to for months.
My horse was a large brown mare named Grace, although I'm not certain how deserved that name really was. The trail we took was about four miles long, and snaked through the woods. I enjoyed my ride, but found myself very envious of our guides who continuously cantered their horses back and forth next to us. A walking horse is well and good, but I was dying to let loose and run with Grace.