Three wheels and a big dog

Like many people, I spent Labor Day weekend in a campground, Brunet Island State Park. It was the annual Grandma’s Camping Weekend, when my sister Linda, her daughter Sarah and my grandbaby Wren get together for a girls only camping adventure.
We all met at the campground on Thursday afternoon. Brunet Island State Park is a beautiful place near Cornell, surrounded by the Chippewa River. The campground is filled with large hemlocks, maples and other trees, squirrels, deer and several raccoons.
When we arrived, there was only one other camper in the southern part of the campgrounds were we had our space reserved. All the other campsites were tagged as reserved, but we were the only ones who braved the cold and rain on that night. A few more stragglers came in during the continued rain on Friday, and by Saturday, when the rain stopped, the campground began to fill up.
Most campsites were quite similar. Standard equipment was usually a pull-behind camper and some sort of recreational equipment like bikes, canoes, or kayaks. Quite a few campers brought the family dog along. Add a fire ring and a picnic table and you have a typical camp setup. Families gather by the fire and chat while the children ride the bikes or search the nearby woods for treasures. Meals are cooked over the fire and eaten at the picnic table.
Our campsite was similar, with a few exceptions that drew curious campers to either stop by or walk by with their necks craned in our direction.
We had three wheels and a big dog.
The three wheels I’m referring to weren’t on the camper, or the SUV that pulled it. These were spinning wheels. My sister, my niece and I are all into fiber. We knit, weave and spin. So, for grandma’s camping weekend, we each brought our spinning wheel. While the other campers were hiking or canoeing, we were sitting around our campfire spinning fiber into yarn.
On occasion, I’d bring out my hand drum or native flute and add some music to the mix.
It wasinteresting to watch, out the corner of my eye, as the neighboring campers passed by. Conversations stopped, heads turned, and some people stopped walking to watch. We smiled and greeted them, and kept spinning. Children pointed and asked the grown-ups what we were doing. Dogs shifted their noses in our direction, sniffing the scent of sheep coming off my freshly carded fiber.
One woman was brave and came into our campsite with her husband.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to spin,” she said. “When I retire and have more time, I’m going to try it.”
“Here, sit down and try it now,” offered my sister.
The woman sat down and had a mini-spinning lesson while her husband watched. I walked over and talked to the man about his dog, trying to keep him occupied.
“I may need to go walk the dog and come back later,” he said, obviously sensing his wife’s pre-occupation.
She spun for a bit, then returned to her husband, vowing to visit a fiber fair soon to try out different kinds of spinning wheels. I explained that she should be prepared to learn to knit or crochet so she had something to do with all the yarn she would be making. I didn’t tell her about the urge to buy a loom and learn weaving too. We’ll let her discover that one later, once she has the full fiber addiction.
There were those passers-by who seemed uninterested in the spinning project. However, most of them offered comments on “that big dog.”
My sister has an Alaskan Malamutenamed Raven. He is probably only about 80 pounds, but when you add in all of his soft, fluffy fur, he looks like about 140 pounds. His feet are as big as the palm of my hand.
“That’s such a beautiful dog.”
“Is that a husky?”
“Mommy, look at that dog.”
These were some of the comments we were used to. Raven is a friendly dog and his older age means he’s not as exuberant as younger dogs. He doesn’t jump on people or bark much, so he’s a perfect dog for curious people.
On occasion, we would need to get up from our spinning and take Raven and Wren for a walk, giving the campers in the farther out sites a chance to marvel at ‘the big dog.’
Wren is three years old, so she had her occasional ‘melt downs,’ which is what we call a bought of temper. However, with all the other children in camp, melt downs were a common occurrence all over, nothing to draw anyone’s attention.
It was the three wheels and the big dog that added a different twist to the weekend.