Hazy Days of Summer

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.