Summer is here.
Or at least we have had some sun and that is something to take full advantage
of as sometimes it only last for a few days before the forecast is nothing but
rain. Although it isn't always called rain - because either the weather people get bored
with forecasting or they try to justify even bothering to make a forecast they
will often vary how this is worded:
Monday: Rain,
Heavy at times.
Tuesday: Rainy
with cloudy periods.
Wednesday:
Showers.
Thursday: Cloudy
with rainy periods.
Friday: Rain.
You get the idea.
If we get two
warm weekends in the year we are pretty happy about it all. So imagine my delight when we decided to go
camping and the weather actually cooperated.
We packed up the
Camper (aka Snail) and set out for the first trip of the season up a logging
road to a lovely green hued lake surrounded by snow capped peaks and place I’d
never yet been too. Chicken Little slept almost the whole drive up and the dog sat panting with anticipation.
 |
| our campsite |
The breeze blew
in off the lake and kept the mosquitoes to a dull drone, and we noted we were
the only people there. With our pick of
campsites we chose an out of the way little space at the end that afforded a
great deal of privacy and gave us our own little slice of beach. The water was predictably
cold, and yet beautiful. Chicken Little
played in the sand and I started reading a new book.
My sewing machine
is broken and needs to see a Doctor, not that I would have taken it camping
with me, but it has stymied my attempts at creativity (not to mention basic
hemming requirements), and camping has never really inspired me to paint. So I read my book, I played with Chicken
Little, I threw sticks for the dog, and I toasted my feet on the camp
fire. It was lovely, it was relaxing.
On Sunday morning
we packed up in a frenzy as a dark cloud consisting almost entirely of mosquitoes
had descended into camp. Even the dog
did not want to venture out of the snail. So while I have a few itchy bits as a
reminder of the bugs, it was well worth it.
Not once did I worry
about laundry, or taxes, clean floors or an endless stack of work. Nor did I think once about work and the beige
cubicle I inhabit for the majority of my waking hours.
Would that all
weekends be so relaxing.
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