Winter Adventure Part 3 - Home Again

Dreaming I'm a mouse under the snow, in my warm little burrow.  Adjusting my little nest around me to cover the thin spot at my back so the cold can't come through.  Smelling the pine that makes up my cozy space.  Hearing the light, happy sounds of birds outside twittering, pots and pans clanging... what??  Wait... where am I?  Eyes still closed and my head buried in my sleeping bag, I slowly come back into awareness of myself and my surroundings.  I certainly am nice and warm, but I'm not in my bed at home.  I stretch my legs right down to the bottom of my sleeping bag and stretch my arms out overhead, and pull back the sleeping bag from over my head so I can have a look around.  It's early morning and the white tent is beginning to brighten inside from the daylight outside.

"Good morning, Monik!" I hear Mrs. Z's voice from the other side of the tent and peek over at her and Scouter Nick.

"Good morning!" I reply cheerily, "I was just dreaming I was a mouse sleeping in a nest under the snow!"

Mrs. Z laughs - she's already perched on the side of the sleeping platform, zipping up her jacket.

"Speaking of a mouse nest, look at Scouter Nick's hair!" she points him out to me.  Scouter Nick smiles and then makes a face, rubbing a hand over his whiskers and over his hair - his hair is poking out in all sorts of directions.

"Haha, good bed head!" I laugh, and we're all laughing together.

"That's what your hat is for," says Scouter Nick, as he ceremoniously pops his hat on. Then,

"Can you smell flapjacks?" he asks me, sniffing the air, and gives me a wink.

Wishful thinking is my guess, but he pops out of the tent in search of breakfast.  Mrs. Z and I are close behind, after packing the sleeping bags back up and arranging the rest of the contents in the tent.  We'll be leaving today, already.

Nancy and her mom aren't out quite yet, but the others are out and busy around the fire.  I make my first visit to the privy, a little frosty this morning, and wash my hands and face in the snow, drying off with a cold, dry towel.  When I get back, Mrs. Z hands me a cup of hot chocolate and has me sit down by the fire.

"Keep your jacket open," she instructs, "so you don't get too hot now and then too cold later on.  There are enough of us here to get breakfast ready, so just sit and watch."

As I sit, Nancy and her mom join the group, and "good morning!" is cheerily shared around the fire.  Just as I am about to take a sip, I hear the 'click' of a camera and look up to see Mr. Simmons who has just managed to take a group photo.

"Something to remember us all by," he smiles.

Pancakes are indeed made and shared, and are the best one's I've ever had - with chocolate chips and nuts in them.  Each bite so nice and warm!  Then the Whiskey Jacks come out, begging for a snack.  I've never seen the grey jays - I've only ever noticed Blue Jays at my house. Mr. Simmons stands really still, with pancake bits on his hat, and soon has the birds dive-bombing him for a taste.

With breakfast done and all the gear packed up, we head out on the skidoos to our ice-fishing spot.  The men are drilling the holes while Nancy and I do another zip around the lake, looking for a good spot, not too far away, to go sliding.  We watch the ice-fishing holes for awhile, and then as we get cold, we zip over to the hill and warm up by climbing up and rolling back down.  I feel like I've always known her, we are having so much fun together.

Then back over to the holes and, just as I'm watching, one of the twigs gives a little bounce and Scouter Nick says to me, "Look Monik, you got one!"

My eyes are big as I look at the bouncing twig, not sure what I'm supposed to do next, but Scouter Nick is on it.  He hauls the line up and sure enough, a nice fish has caught the hook.  I'm really quite surprised - even though I know the lake doesn't freeze all the way down to the bottom, I still don't understand how those fish can actually be Swimming down there - surely it's too cold?  He takes the hook out and I watch the fish on the ice freeze into a C.

A few other pickerel have been caught, and everyone seems to be happy with the weekend haul.  Before too long though, it's time to go and I have to say goodbye to Nancy and the others.  We'll all go in different directions from here, it seems, so I'm back on the skidoo with Mrs. Z.  I turn and wave as we pull away, Nancy waving back and Dori barking and bouncing there beside her.  I hope I'll see her again.

*****

Mrs. Zroback asked me to come up to her desk at lunchtime today, and this time she hands me an envelope.

"This is for you," she said, her smiling eyes twinkling behind her glasses.  "Something to help you to remember our camping trip."

Pleased and curious, I opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph-card.  It was the photo Nancy's dad had taken! On the cardboard beside the photo, something is written... I can read my name, and Mrs. Z's signature, but I can't quite decipher the cursive handwriting...

"I can't quite read it; I see your signature, but what does it say?" I ask, shyly.

"It says, 'My kind of girl'."

I beam up at Mrs. Zroback, and she smiles back.  It's our new secret.













*****
Dedicated to Mary and Nick Zroback, who I'm sure have touched many young lives. Thank you, thank you both, so very much.

Also dedicated to the Simmons Family, wherever you are now.  Thank you.