Father’s Day

We took Dan camping for Father’s Day, which is a euphemism for: he picked the spot, set up the tent, cooked most of the food and caught fish for us. We camped right under a robin’s nest and about every 20 minutes an adult robin would fly into the nest with food and the babies would go completely nuts. After watching the parents work so hard, I felt sort of the same way I do at weddings: completely caught up in the magic of two people proclaiming their love for each other, and also so glad I already did that shit.

This is where we camped.

The wild irises were going off.

Dan got special Father’s Day books that each kid made for him. Col’s had lots of pictures of him and Dan pulling huge fish out of rivers.

Rose’s was an awesome set of drawings narrated with captions like: Hi Daddy. I love my friends Iris and Tara. Pink petals!

Happiest of Father’s Days to the wood-toting,

child-guiding

manure-shoveling,

baby-nurturing,

archery-coaching,

mushroom-finding,

master of the snuggle-wrestle,

and love of my life.

Also, check out my tribute to Dan in my bi-weekly column in the Durango Herald (and learned how he saved us from the mother of all meltdowns).

And, last year’s Father’s Day tributes on the blog: the man in pictures and Dan’s crafty craftiness.