The drive to grandma's house was a long one. The road wound through both mountains and farm lands. There were cows and horses in fenced pastures that looked like patchwork quilts. Farm dogs would bark as they passed the long drives that led to the farm houses. Sometimes the dogs would charge out, chasing the car. It always made her nervous because she was afraid that her father might accidentally run over one of the chasing dogs. Her father never seemed to notice the commotion going on. He would keep his eyes straight and maintain a constant speed.

While the two grown-ups chatted quietly in the front seat, Christy would watch out the windows. One day she had seen a fox peeking out from under a nearby bush. Another day she had seen a golden eagle perched on a fence post. One time she had spied a box turtle trying to cross the road. It had hesitated briefly on the roadside, letting her car go by before it began its dangerous journey across the road.

The narrow road wound through a forest filled with tall pines and majestic mountains. The pine trees lined the road like soldiers. The ride through the mountains was cool and shady. The forest was filled with secrets and strange animals. The best part of the trip through the mountains was the picnic lunch they would have on the way.

They would stop at a campground, spread the red-plaid blanket on the ground in a nearby meadow, and eat the delicious lunch she and her mother had packed in the wicker picnic basket.

After lunch her father would bring out his favorite pillow and take a short nap while her mother would clear away the picnic and store everything back inside the trunk. That was the best part because that would give Christy plenty of time to explore.

"Are you awake?" her mother called over her shoulder as they rounded a curve in the road.

"Uhuh," was the answer from the child in the back seat.

"Good, we are near the campground. We will be stopping soon." Christy's mom turned in her seat and looked at her daughter. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes!" Christy stated with a smile. "I could eat a......." She tried to think of something to say.

"A horse?" her mother added quickly.

"No! Not a horse. I wouldn't want to eat a horse! ........ A bucket of fried chicken maybe." she decided after much thought.

"Would a sandwich be ok?" her mother asked.

"Yep," she agreed. "With miracle whip, a tomato, and lettuce?"

"How about peanut butter and strawberry jelly?" her mother insisted.

"Well, Ok," Christy settle on peanut butter. "Is there any dessert?"

"Watermelon."

"A big piece for me, all by myself?"

"A big piece for you," her mother assured her.

The car turned on to a gravel road and slowed. There were picnic table everywhere. Here and there campers and trailers filled a camp spot. Every once in a while a dog would bark as they passed an occupied site.

People carrying fishing poles walked here and there, trying to find a favorite fishing hole where the stream rambled through the campground. Kids chased each other and shouted as they played. Mothers cooked over open campfires or sat and talked to their camping neighbors.

The car turned into a site at the very end of the road. It was near the stream where an open meadow meandered between the stream and the campsite. Christy could hear birds twittering nearby.

"Help me set out the picnic lunch," her mother shouted as her father opened the car door and unstrapped her safety restraint.

She laid Arabella in the seat and climbed down from the car. She ran to the back of the car and held out her arm. Her mother placed a beverage jug over her left arm and stuffed a package of paper plates under her right. She struggled to the table and placed the paper plates on its top. She then tried to lift the jug onto the bench.

"Let me help you with that," her father whispered in her ear. Together, they raised the jug to the top of the table.

"Thank you, daddy," she panted as she turned to look at her father. "It was heavy." Her father smiled and walked toward the car again.

"Here are the sandwiches. Jump up here and set yourself down and I will fix your plate," her mother insisted. The woman placed a paper plate in front of her daughter and filled a small paper cup with koolaide from the jug. "Here is your sandwich," she urged, unwrapping it and placing it in front of the squirming child. "We'll have watermelon in a little while. I will place it in the stream to cool, "she said as she walked toward the stream with the huge watermelon.

"Can I come too?" Christy asked excitedly.

"No, eat your lunch. I'll let you help me bring it from the stream when it has cooled."

Christy pouted for only a moment and then ate her sandwich. The koolaide was her favorite flavor, cherry. Her father was spreading a blanket in the meadow and placing his favorite pillow there. He walked over to the table and sat down across from his daughter.

"Is the sandwich good?" he asked as he picked up his sandwich and unwrapped the clear plastic wrap that covered it.

"Is yours peanut butter too?" she asked.

"Yes," he smiled and munched his sandwich.

"With strawberry jam?" she asked again.

"Yes," he answered as he watched his wife of nine years walk slowly back to the campsite.

"Mine too," she beamed. Peanut butter dribbled from the corners of her mouth.

"You too having a nice time?" her mother asked.

"Yep!" Christy picked up her cup and drank it in big gulps. "Can I have more, please?"

"You sure can, doll, " her father said as he handed her another half a sandwich. "You're sure hungry for a little girl."

"I'm not little, dad. I'm eight."

"Oh, eight, huh. That is big." He smiled and patted his wife's hand as they ate their picnic lunch under the shade of the tall pines in the Utah mountains.

"When you are done you can play in the meadow there by the blanket. But you must remember to stay where we can see you at all times and not go too near the stream," her mother warned her.

"Oh, that will be so much fun!" she beamed and dropped her half eaten sandwich on her plate. " I am full now. Can I play?"

"Yes, but remember what I said."

"I will, mommy." She scampered down from the table and looked around.

"You be careful now, girl," her father warned in that stern voice he always used for things of great importance.

"Daddy, " she said as if annoyed at his words. "I am a big girl and I will be careful."

"Mind that you do then," he added and then walked to the blanket where his favorite pillow was waiting for him.

Her mother waved and smiled and then began to clear the picnic table, carefully putting the food and dishes away in the trunk of the car. Christy walked slowly passed the blanket while her father's eyes followed her. There was a rather large rock near the stream where she decided to sit. From this vantage point she could see in all directions.

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