Mount Hermon: A Writer's Perspective

Ever considered attending the annual writer's conference in Mount Hermon? I know I have, but it all seemed so overwhelming. I'm hoping to attend the 2011 conference and I've heard how BIG it is. I have nightmares of pitching my proposal to the cleaning lady and throwing my dirty socks into some editors briefcase. So this week, we're going to sit down with several writers who have gone, experienced, (survived!) and are willing to share their tips and tales.

Dan and Denise Harmer write as a joint venture. Denise, a former stenographer, uses her editing skills to synchronize with Dan’s ability to spin a whale of a tale. They lead the Temecula Writer’s Toolbox as an offshoot of the San Diego Christian Writer’s Guild, were winners of Lamp Post Pub’s 2010 short story contest, and were semi-finalists in Zondervan’s “All about the Story” fiction contest. Both grew up on the beaches of Southern California, where they maintain a laid-back lifestyle while running a cabinet shop, raising their four children, and tending a small ranch. Okay, maybe it does get a little hectic. www.jointventurebooks.com

Tell us a little about your decision to attend the Mount Hermon Christian Writer’s Conference.

Dan - I heard about Mt. Hermon at the SDCWGC and the writer’s critique group and from local Christian writers I’ve met. Five days of workshops, one on ones, and fellowship with editors, agents, and top-selling authors sounded great, but I had no idea. It was even more than that.

Denise – I had heard how valuable an experience Mt. Hermon would be, and I really wanted to meet editors and agents face to face.

As first timers, what surprised you the most about the conference?

Dan - I went with the wrong mindset. I kind of thought this was going to be like a really long job interview. I clutched my manuscript, bought some new slacks and a button down shirt, then set out to pitch my stuff, but I realized some of the best parts of the conference were meeting other new writers just like myself, learning from veterans what good writing sounds like, learning from editors what a marketable product is, and learning from agents, that they are just people, too. They don’t want to shatter your dreams, but if you are willing to listen, they have a lot of wise insights. Here is something to give you an idea of what it is like. You can submit your MS ahead of time to see if a publishing house is interested. (I don’t recommend this for first timers. I’ll explain why later.) The editors have two days to take a look. The majority are sent back with rejection letters. There are actually crisis counselors walking around to pray with people the day the rejections come. People who have traveled halfway across the U.S., their whole church is praying and are convinced that God was going to open a door, and it appears that for the time being He hasn’t. Some folks are destroyed and just wither away. I admit, I struggled with some of this. The funny thing is, there was one particular agent that really hammered me. I felt about an inch tall when she was done. Turns out she was right. Now we are represented by her agency.

I said that I don’t recommend submitting your MS to a publishing house pre- attendance your first year, but there is an option to have staff authors (many bestsellers) give an in-depth critique. Well, what I discovered is if the staff authors like your writing, they will pass it on to the publishing house they think would be interested. So now your MS is warmed up for the editor and you have an open door, and if they don’t pass it on, then you have a great critique. (The publishing houses don’t critique, they just say yea or nay.) Also, you don’t need to submit to editors ahead of time because there will be ample opportunities to share your idea in person with those same folks. When you pitch it in person, you’ll know right away if their eyes light up or not. This also allows for you to get feedback so that in the future you know what kind of writing their house favors.

Denise – I was shocked at how much information was presented and the amount of choices. Really, I wanted to experience all of it, but it was a bit overwhelming.

What advice would you give first timers hoping to attend Mount Hermon?

Dan - The best advice I can give is take advantage of the buddy system. This is where they pair up the rookies with a veteran. Besides that, relax, be yourself, and let the Holy Spirit lead. You will be surprised at who God may have set an appointment for you to meet.

Pray. Go. And be blessed.

Denise – Realize that you will be exhausted when it’s over, but the connections are amazing. Come prepared and ready to listen to advice. These talented speakers and teachers know so much and have a ton to offer if you’ll go with an attitude of learning from them.



Janet Thompson is the founder and Visionary Director of About His Work Ministries, also known as AHW Ministries, and a prolific author and speaker on topics relevant to today's Christian women. www.womantowomanmentoring.com

As a published author, what role did the Mount Hermon Writer’s Conference play in first opening the door to the publishing world?

Anytime someone asks me how to get started writing, I ALWAYS tell them to attend a Writer's Conference, and if you can, go to Mt Hermon! I learned how to write at Mt. Hermon. I wasn't an English or Journalism major and had never considered writing until I started the Woman to Woman Mentoring Ministry at Saddleback Church and other churches wanted to know how I was doing it so I decided to write a How To Kit and took my proposal to Mt Hermon. The Kit didn't get picked up there, but I took every workshop, met with as many editors as I could, and absorbed the whole experience. I came home and wrote the Kit based on all that I had learned and actually self-published for 3 years until it was picked up by LifeWay. Being with LifeWay gave me a speaking platform and mentoring became my brand.

I continued attending Mt Hermon every chance I had because the contacts you make there are invaluable. You actually have meals with editors and agents and set private appointments with them to pitch your project. The fact that you make the effort and expense to attend impresses these editors who come to the conference specifically to find new projects. You also can send proposals ahead and have them critiqued or actually reviewed by an editor of your choice.

In 2003 my idea for Dear God, They Say It's Cancer: A Companion Guide for Women on the Breast Cancer Journey was picked up at Mt Hermon by Howard Books/Simon & Schuster editor. I actually knew when I left that conference that I was going to get a contract, and I did! This book opened the door for a series, and I'm currently writing Dear God, Why Can't I Have a Baby? for Leafwood Press. I also wrote another book with Howard Books, Praying for Your Prodigal Daughter.

I met my agent, Steve Laube, at Mt. Hermon and made many author friends over the years.


Having attended the conference several times, what advice do you have for writers considering attending the conference?

It can seem overwhelming and a bit intimidating at first. There is something going on every waking moment of the day so pace yourself. Go prepared: have proposals ready, be able to give your elevator speech and stay focused. Don't hesitate to approach editors and make appointments with them early in the conference, because that's what they are there for and their calendar will fill up.

Have fun. Dress casual with good walking shoes; it is a camp! It also could rain and the evenings are cool. Check the weather forecast because it's different every year. The food is wonderful, the people are friendly, and you will have a mountain top experience if you don't take rejection personally. I heard allot of no thank you's before the doors started to open, so believe in your project enough to stay persistent and enthusiastic.

Thank you Dan, Denise and Janet for sharing your experience from the Mount Hermon Writers Conference and for encouraging other writers to step out in faith, while taking it all in stride.

Kids (and Moms) Say The Darndest Things!

When I pictured motherhood, I imagined an infant in a clean onesie, a stroller that always looked like it came from the factory and sippy cups that never leaked on my couch.
Yeah. Hardy har har.

The baby showers ended in a flurry of pink and blue confetti then in the blink of an eye, my infants grew into chatter boxes...uh, I mean toddlers.

I knew all kids said funny things, that's why then made a tv show about it. So I expected cute nothings coming out of my little one's mouths...things like "Mommy, the clouds look like cotton candy."
"Yes dear." I'd pat their clean, well combed heads. "You're so adorable, innocent and calm."

But no one ever warned me for the insane things they would DO...resulting in the insane comments that would pop out of my mouth.

I'll share a few:

One day I glanced out the window to find my 3 year old with the hose in his hand. "Please stop watering the chickens." He looks at me like, You do it mommy.
So I'm forced to respond. "Yeah, well mommy does it only when the chickens eat her flowers. There's a difference."

And I'll never forget the embarrassing incident at the market when I had to say, "Levi, You don't pat men's tummys in the grocery store." He looks up at me with large, adorable, confused eyes and once out of earshot, I add, "I don't care how big it is."
I never imagined needing to apologize to a red suspendered man. "Sorry sir. I think he was trying to give you a high-five."
I toss a disapproving look to my son. Apparently sometimes temptation is just too much to take.

Then there's kiddo #2. His one-year-old sister is lighting-fast when it comes to stealing his things...the train off his tracks, the sippy cup from his lap. My son knits his eyebrows together and tells her, "No." Then he often turns to me and says, "Let's take her to the dump."

Believe me son, there's days I would like to. The girls lucky she's so cute. I'm certain that's why God made puppies and babies irresistibly adorable--survival.

I'll be out at a yard sale, or the store and a passerbyer might say, "How much for the little girl?" It's a common joke, you know, 99cents for a pound of apples, $2.00 for that old picture frame, $10 dollars for the kid. I pause as temptation pulls my response in two different directions. I look down at my toddler who is chewing on the box of cereal and has thrown her shoe out the cart two isles back.
My response is usual the same. "Depends on the day."
They smile.
"Somedays, she's priceless. Other days I'd trade ya for that Starbucks in your hand."
Which means, all I have to do is tell my mom "It's a half-price day," for her to know that its been busy, hectic, sticky, messy, squealy and stinky. She hugs me and says, "You're a great mom. I'm so glad I'm the grandma."


I'd love to hear the funny things your children...and their mother say, in hopes that I'm not the only one whose lost my mind (and any sliver of coolness I may have had). Share your stories by posting them in the comment box below and we'll all have a laugh :D

Lemonade Out Of Lemons

You know how people ask you "Where are you going on vacation this summer?"
My answer this year was always the same. "Yosemite!" I was soooo excited. We had just bought a new toyhauler and I had visions of lowering the back, having the breeze bounce off half dome and into my trailer bringing with it the smell of mountain wildflowers. I'd wave to hikers going by and pet little baby bears on the head while my husband wrestled with their mother. Ah. These were my visions of vacation. It was going to be perfect.

Before we left, I had asked Noah's mother what to expect of the drive up there since she'd just gone.
"Will it be green and lush?"
"It would be pretty dry until Fresno, dry in Fresno, then it starts to get pretty."
"Okay." I thought, translating that. "I can make it till Fresno before the great views show up." That's what Ipods are for, right?

Wrong. We drove and drove and drove and as we stared at the dead, dry landscape, I watched the "miles to Fresno" slowly shrink. "We're getting there!" Although the landscape wasn't much, we did enjoy all the acres of grapevines and fruit trees and as Fresno came and went, I rubbed my hands together in anticipation and I blew an imaginary kiss to half dome. Yosemite, here we come!

Between studying the CA map and the roadsigns, it suddenly occurred to me that our campground was mere miles away. 30 miles to go. Then 20, then 10. I continued to study the dry landscape. There were hardly any mountains and very few green trees. "Wow," I said to my husband. "That Yosemite just jumps right out at ya." As I scanned the hills for signs of half dome, I spotted another sign...we were almost there! With a puzzle in my brow, I stared at the map.

As we pulled off the highway into our campsite, we simply stared. I almost started crying. Our families got out of the cars and with mouths ajar, we studied our surrounding--then we started sweating and wiping our brows (another theme of the week). It was dry, dead and brown. No flowers. Hardly any trees.

Where were all the bears? The cabins? The hikers? "Mom," I said, afraid to hear the answer. "Where's Yosemite?" That's when we learned that due to road construction it would be another 3 and a half hours to the valley floor (that's just one way...and with a car full of toddlers). Are you kidding me? Had we really just driven nearly ten hours to camp for a week in a fire hazard?

So, with slow, sad movements, we mopped the sweat from our brows and started to set up camp. That's when we saw a girl walk by in a bathing suit. We followed her damp trail to the end of the campground only to find that a cool, clear creek flowed through the place. As quickly as we could, we threw on our suits and sank into the water. The kids played and splashed and we finally found relief from the hot campground. We didn't dry off for a week.

By the end of our vacation, my children had turned into fish and us adults had invented a game called "water soccer". With hockey-sized goals made out of bent willow, a ball and a half-dozen willing people, we proceeded to kick and splash each other until we were soaked and exhausted. With a few bruised ankles and one broken toe, we had more fun playing water soccer.

And my favorite memory, was one night when my mom, my aunt and I decided to play scrabble. It was one of those games where nothing was going right. You know the game when one player has all the Q's with no U (of course), another has all the vowels and another has all the consonants--with championship quality words like "put" and "hi" we were not getting anywhere. So being the scrabble enthusiasts and rule followers that we were, we decided to invent our own version of the game. There were only two rules: You could only use the letters sitting in your little wooden church pew & the word could NOT be found in the dictionary but must be accompanied with its corresponding definition :) Here's what we came up with:

JELON: (Jay-lawn) a Jello dish from France
TMTRY: (Tem-etry) a form of math, much harder than Trig (of course!)
ZOOO: (pronounced just as it sounds) a VERY LARGE zoo
BAOM: (Bay-om) Emeril's "Bam", but with a southern accent
ZEAD: A man from the old testament
GLAVT: A horse from the Lord of The Rings
my mom came up with the word ECNS and on my turn, I added a few letters making it QECNSOUX which of course made it French. It had to be the most fun we'd ever had playing scrabble.

Needless to say, there wasn't a whole lot that went the way we had planned that week, but all we could do was roll up our sleeves, have a laugh and make the best of it and by bending our expectations, we found out that we ended up having a lot of fun. It will be a vacation we never forget!

My Garden ~ Growing Potatoes

The hardest part about this blog post was not preparing my scraggly spuds for planting, it was looking up how to spell the word "potato". Growing Potatoes...hmm to "e" or not to "e" that is the question. Once I figured out how to spell that bugger of a word, I was ready to proceed with sharing my experience on growing potatoes.

I wish I could say that I have an abundant crop of potatoes enough to feed an army, but that's just not the case. I'm not quite sure where I have gone wrong, but they just don't seem very impressive...I mean, its quite clear from the photo that they are all large, of similar size and color, ok, just kidding.

So what spurred me onto the idea of growing potatoes? Well I read that potatoes are one of the worst vegetables to buy through conventional growers--meaning, they're quite covered in pesticides from the soil. Ick! And since I don't live near a farmer's market (sigh) I decided to dedicate some space in my garden to these multi-eyed babies.


This year, our garden contains red potatoes, russet and Yukon gold, one variety which is residing in a half-barrel so all we have to do is dump over the barrel once they're ready and harvest with ease. Its still too soon, but I'll be back to update this post on the success of that method. Seed potatoes come pre-sliced and ready to plant, but you can also buy organic potatoes, slice them in chunks and let the cuts dry out for a few days before planting. I've tried both methods and have had up and down results no matter what I try. So while I am still far from being crowned the spud expert, I think potato growing is fun and relatively simple. Now I just have to master the art of reaping in abundant crops of the little guys and I know that if I keep trying, in time I will!

The other day, I skimmed from several different locations to come up with our dinner and I think a mixture of different varieties makes for a nice presentation. We wrapped the potatoes, a handful of green beans, (both green and yellow!) and some amazingly good carrots--all from our garden =) in tinfoil, topped with garlic salt, pepper, and butter then cooked the little package on the BBQ. It made for a beautiful array of summer veggies, which I am quite proud to say that my children thoroughly enjoyed. (Woohoo! My kids eat vegetables.)

Disclaimer: they only really eat them if they are out of the garden. I guess that goes to show that there truly is a difference in taste! They plowed through my spring peas like they were candy, and fight over carrots that I pluck, rinse and offer them whole. My 1-year-old likes to hold them by the green tops, making for a rather droopy, difficult, yet completely adorable method of eating.

The point is, what my potato crop lacks in quantity, it makes up in taste and texture! The great thing about home grown potatoes, is that the skin is quite tender and very delicious. If you're not in the BBQ'ing mood, just rinse 'em carefully and cook them in a little water with the skin on, then saute them a minute with butter, salt and pepper and garlic or fresh herbs. I promise you, if you give potato growing a shot, you will not regret the quality of your home grown potatoes and will never look at those gigantic store bought spuds the same again.

The Writer's Torch: Lynnette Bonner

I grew up loving to read, but when it came to writing, I honestly wasn’t that dedicated. I often hear writers say something along the lines of, “I wrote my first story when I was only 8, and I never quit writing after that.” When I hear something like that I think, “Wow, that’s dedication.” I wasn’t like that. Sure I wrote my share of stories growing up, but it was an on again, off again relationship.
I always loved fiction and would read for hours in high school. But I didn’t start writing until about 1993 after my first son was born. Even then, I didn’t seriously pursue the craft until probably 1999. I completed Rocky Mountain Oasis around 2000 and shopped it to several (okay, about a million) publishing houses and agents. If they were in Sally Stuart’s Christian Writer’s Market Guide and said they were looking for historical fiction, they probably got a proposal from me. Then the rejection letters started trickling in. Publishing houses said, “Unfortunately, we find we must decline the opportunity to publish this project.” Agents said, “With great regret, I must pass on this opportunity….” And I began to realize the mountain I was attempting to climb.

Then in late 2001 a small e-book publisher said they wanted to publish the book! I was thrilled. The contract was good and didn’t require me to sign my first born away, so I signed with dollar signs dancing in my head – after all, the internet was booming! Surely my wonderful story would take off and I would soon be known world-wide, right? Well, ahem, I made about 90 cents before the company went out of business a couple months later, and those were sales to my neighbor down the street and my brother, I think.

When the e-book publisher went belly-up, I was back to square one. By that time, I was homeschooling my two oldest kids and had a toddler to boot. Writing got put on the back burner. 2003 ushered in the birth of our daughter and in 2004 we moved from Idaho to Washington. I was still homeschooling and not writing. But through all those years I just kept praying about Rocky Mountain Oasis. I told the Lord the book was in His hands (I’m pretty sure He already knew this.) And that if He had given it to me just to help me through those tough, stressful years, I would try to be content with that. But I kept asking Him to direct my steps where the book was concerned. I specifically remember praying that if the Lord wanted this book to be published He would need to “drop a publisher in my lap” because I didn’t have time to shop it around again.

My mom is also a writer and she called me up one day in early 2007 to tell me about a new publisher on the scene, OakTara. One of her critique partners, Linda Reinhardt, had just gotten a contract with them. I checked them out and they had super simple submission guidelines, so I zipped up my file and fired it off to them. (Problem – their guidelines didn’t call for zipped files.) By December I still hadn’t heard from them – and I thought, “Well, I’ll try sending it to them with the files unzipped. Duh! So at midnight on December 23rd, 2007 I fired off another cover letter with my now almost 8 year old baby attached. They were the only publisher I’d submitted to in 6 years.

Since OakTara’s guidelines at the time said to expect to hear from them within 8 weeks of submission, I pretty much gave up when I hadn’t heard anything by April. Then on June 9th, 2008 I got the email that stopped my heart for a couple beats before it started pounding again like a herd of wild children. (Ooops, horses! I meant horses.) Words cannot describe the thrill of reading, “Rocky Mountain Oasis is precisely the type of novel OakTara is interested in -- quality fiction, from a fresh perspective – and we’d like to offer you the opportunity to join OakTara’s growing stable of authors.” I didn’t come off that high for several days.

As I look back, I can totally see how the Lord brought my right to the publisher that He had planned for me. There is no doubt in my mind. I’m so glad that I just trusted Him and kept putting my journey back into His hands. (Yes, I tried to pull it back a couple times, I’m sure.)

So for other up-and-coming authors out there, let me just encourage you to keep putting your writing journey into the hands of the one who can best shape it. You will never be sorry.

Adventures in Country Living: Dutch Oven Cooking

100 years ago, along the path from the east to the west, came thousands of families traveling in a wagon with less cargo spaces than some refrigerators I've seen. They packed up what little they could tuck into nooks and crannies and set off on the journey of a lifetime. The supplies they packed varied, while some may have valued a prized fiddle or sewing machine, others clung to family portraits and hand-me-down cradles. But what most every family packed, was the key to cooking on the open plains--a Dutch oven.

Imagine standing over a campfire and relishing in the ability to bake breads, cakes and rolls, and cook stews and cobblers. The Dutch oven truly is a remarkable tool.

These are the images that come to mind when I think of a Dutch oven, but Dutch ovens still have their place in the here and now. Our family just got home from two week-long camping trips. And while my washer and dryer are working over time, our Dutch oven is tucked snugly in its home inside our trailer, resting from several weeks of feeding everyone.

The Dutch oven is my husband's baby. He's the campfire man. He can start one in a heartbeat, I've even seen him do it without a flame. He's basically like an over sized boyscout. But he's our resident chef when we go camping and he knows how to whip up more than one crowd pleaser. He pretty much does all the work, and I'm mostly allowed to observe. I think its a guy thing. They love cooking in the great out doors--BBQ's, can of beans tossed into the campfire, fish grilling in tin foil on the side of a stream, it doesn't matter where they are, they were born to cook in the great out doors.

But the guy makes a mean breakfast quiche, he learned it from his brother (who also makes an amazing stew), and when I asked my husband for the recipe so I could blog about it, he stared at me like a dear in headlights with this look like "I can't believe your going to give away my secret." So I'll just blurt out the ingredients, and run like the dickens in the opposite direction: egg, cheese, sausage, bacon, potatos. That's all I'll say, but if you see him, you might be able to work the details out of him, or just bring him camping. He's already had several offers..."um honey, did you pack the tent and the marshmallows, oh and the cast iron guy whose going to feed us like kings?"

So I'll share another recipe and it's as simple as, well, dump cake.
My favorite is blackberry-rhubarb. I like to cut fresh rhubarb from the garden, cook it down for thirty minutes with sugar then freeze it in quart containers, but the beauty about this way-too-easy cobbler is that the fruit combinations are endless.

Dutch Oven Dump Cake:
First, start coals by lighting a fire in a pit or using charcoal.
A 10 or 12 inch Dutch Oven work great. Grease the inside of the oven, or insert a greased foil liner.
Dump in 2-3 cans of pie filling or fruit and 1-2 packages of cake mix (depending on the size of the Dutch oven)
Pour over a stick of melted butter or spread diced butter evenly on top
No need to mix or stir anything!

When working with a fire pit, it helps to use a heat proof glove, like a welding glove and a lid lifter is a must. With the lid on the oven, set it gently on a small bed of hot coals, place more coals on top (more on top than on bottom if you like a nice golden-brown crust)and allow to cook for about 45 minutes, give or take. Rotate the Dutch oven as needed so the sides cook evenly and replace or remove coals as necessary to regulate heat.

This is not an exact science. The rate at which the Dutch oven cooks ranges depending on the amount of coals, heat of the coals, and the weather. The fruit will begin to bubble up and that's good. When the cake is set and as golden as you like, its done. Allow to cool slightly and serve with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream for those people who like runny vanilla ice-cream on their cobbler, but I'm weird, and I like it just the way it is ;)

Happy Homesteading!

A Very Country 4th

We celebrated the Forth of July Country Style. Some dear friends of ours have a lovely farm in the country. Literally, their home is the very last house on a rural dirt road which means they have only one neighbor and the 300 degree view from their back porch of the untouched mountains is stunning.

For most of the day, my son ran around in his bathing suit on the lawn chasing kids both older and younger, squirt gun in hand, water balloons flying past his head like little torpedoes. I don't think the kids stopped for a breather all day, except when it was time to eat. And then, I don't think anyone could have resisted that spread.

The enormous BBQ hauled in on the back of a vehicle was large enough to feed everyone with chicken, ribs and lamb drizzled in the most wonderful homemade BBQ sauces. Pots large enough to hold a couple of youngins held more corn than I have ever seen in one place in my life and with plenty of entrants in the cobbler and pie competition, there were desserts-a-plenty. My dad was eager to join in on the judging and as he walked around the table, sampling the cobblers with his fork, I don't think he could have been happier. The Lemon pie won, but I was too busy nibbling on peach cobbler that had been freshly baked in a dutch oven over a hot fire then topped with hand churned vanilla ice cream, I forgot to nab myself a slice of the winning entry before it vanished.

As everyone enjoyed the meal, a handful of toddler girls waddled about with chubby legs and ribbons in their hair. With watermelon juice still dripping from her chin, my daughter wandered from picnic blanket to picnic blanket, seeing what bites of food the kind folks would offer a doe-eyed, dimple-cheeked one-year-old. Needless to say, I don't think she had any room left in her little tummy by the end of the day.

As the meal came to a close, folks shared patriotic readings, poems and songs and when that was wrapped up, a gaggle of barefooted, sun-tanned kids hopped onto the flat bed truck for a trip down to the creek. I have no idea what they did down there, but when my three-year-old returned, he was wet, a little muddy and very happy. At that moment I figured he'd probably sleep for a week.

Earlier on in the day, names went up on a board in preparation for the shotgun competition. My honey did quite well in the shootout, making it all the way to the semi finals before getting knocked out of the competition. He has the bruise on his shoulder to prove it. His brother took the championship, shooting through four rounds of competition at twenty-five clay pigeons each round. I bet his bruise is bigger :-) Later on, some of the shooters took part in a twenty-one gun salute. My husband and dad were among the few who lined up for the series of shots in front of the garden...it was VERY loud...things you can only pull off in the country ;-)

As the sun sank on the 4th of July, the s'mores sticks came out and by the time the fire was crackling, a group of kids were huddled around the pit with eager hands. With my friend doing graham cracker duty and me on Hershey bar duty, we managed to sandwich those golden (sometimes rather charred) marshmallows up before any kids realized we actually only had 4 skewers. Even so, those too impatient to wait for a skewers, found a stick long enough to satisfy their s'mores cravings (several adults included) Meanwhile, the guitars came out and as we sang songs around the campfires. The littlest ones drifted off to sleep while the older ones were told they could have no more s'mores but if they were still hungry we had plenty of graham crackers and corn on the cob.

I realized just how late it was when my dad got a little droopy eyed, guitar still in hand. We packed up the picnic blankets and loaded up the kids. My dad managed to stay awake in the car, but my children were asleep in the car seats, with sticky stuff still on their faces, before we were out the driveway.