camping

This past weekend we went to a lovely campground exactly 32 minutes from home. It had a pool, a lake with a slide and good fishing, and trees. I do not like campgrounds that are just huge parking lots with hookups; I want to be near the trees. Most campgrounds near the beach are just huge parking lots. I endure it for the sake of the ocean.

When I go to our bedroom in the camper, I always think about camping during seminary. I propped my computer up on our little dresser and crouched over it on our bed, joining my Greek translation group for an entire quarter during the pandemic. The camper will probably always remind me of Greek and how great that group was. (I had an asynchronous program and probably could not have done seminary another way, but the groups that I had were the best part.)

Everyone sleeps so well in the camper. Normally they are tired from hiking and swimming and being away from home. We run the fan all night and, if we are lucky, it rains during the night and creates the best conditions for sleeping.

This time, I had the idea to make a cocktail cooler. It worked great, but I’d like to tweak some of my equipment. I premeasured and mixed, added some herbs and sweeteners, and stuck in some ginger beer and citrus.

We take books and games. The dog acts like she has gone to a resort and lies around. Our oldest doesn’t sleep well other places-he’s autistic and has intellectual disabilities so he prefers home and routine and all of his things-but the camper is a second home to him. Everyone sleeps so well and rarely wakes up before 8.

I usually get a little time by the pool. The last morning, I paid the eight bucks for a month’s subscription to a lovely substack and I read the archives and filled a whole page in my sketchbook. (And corrected children, that also took a lot of time.) I would subscribe to all of the substacks, but who has the money for that? I occasionally rotate through and read the backlog that I’ve missed. It was almost as good as paying for a magazine. I would have preferred to hold it not on my phone, but I loved the writing and a glimpse at another life.

No matter how great the trip is, I’m always yearning for home by the time it’s departure day. There is nowhere I like better than our house, no matter where we have lived. As soon as most of our stuff was in the house, I picked our blackberries before the rain. Then I made a pie. And did laundry.

Albus was glad to welcome us home too.