So Summer is here, and yes, we’re spelling that with a capital letter on purpose.  Whew.  My kids are a little bigger now, and I’ve managed to work it out that they give me a little free time in the afternoons to write, but for some reason I keep falling asleep instead.  Maybe it’s all the swimming/reading/museums/chores/ball games/gardening.  Maybe the afternoon just isn’t my prime time.  Maybe I just need to stop making excuses.  (That would be no fun.)  Instead I’m going with the old stand-by: Get the kids involved!  (This is questionable advice when the task is chopping vegetables but truly excellent when what you need is imagination.)  For a few weeks, then, I’m going to post the results of one of our summer projects instead of my usual stories and poems.  I think I can go ahead and promise that it won’t be any less entertaining.

When my parents gave me this journal for Christmas, I knew it was way too awesome to be filled up with ordinary real life adventures.  (Though when real life involves birds committing suicide on your back windows and kids mapping time, it can hardly be called ordinary.)  No, this journal needs something more fantastical, so the kids and I decided that when summer came and we had more time (HA!) we would have an imaginary journey and record a bit of it each day in true ‘there and back again’ style.  Code names have been invented, everyone pitches in ideas, and I record what we come up with.

We decided that our journey would be spurred by a mysterious letter and the incineration of our house.  Inside the front cover is a copy of the letter (we redacted our name to throw off evil pursuers), and our first entry is brief and panicked.  Just wait until you see where it takes us! 

Dunlevy Family,

By the time you receive this letter I will be long dead.  For your protection I made sure it would take a long time to arrive.  Hopefully by now those who follow me will have given up.

My treasure is yours.  You only have to retrieve it.  The key is buried with me.

       Beyond the ice
In shadows deep
The water waits
Companions sleep

Your past actions have proven that you alone have the courage and wisdom to do what must be done.

P.Q.

P.S.   Be careful.  The road is filled with dangers.

June 13, 2013

Not much time.  The house is gone, but we are all alive.  Thankful for that much.  N was away on a trip when it happened.  Must find a way to contact him, but we are not safe.  More later.