To the cabins!

On our drive to the mountains of North Carolina, I started Amy Singer's Montego Bay scarf from the summer Interweave. Knitting with some leftover Seasilk reminds me how much I love knitting. (While the hemp laceweight I've been knitting with most lately is beautiful, it has been hard on my hands.)



The pattern for this scarf is easy to memorize and all but mindless afterwards--great for a long car trip.

Of course, I had to rip the thing entirely after I had knit at least a foot of the scarf. Twice....

* * *

We drove down this way to take Son to camp--the same camp I attended when I was a little girl. In fact, the two blankets we packed for him to use in his bunk are the same two blankets I took when I was a child. They are now a bit more threadbare--but sewing his name label right next to my old one was a wonderful feeling.



Camp Gwynn Valley is a traditional camp for young children, with a few twists. Children who attend have campouts and cookouts, they ride horses and bikes, learn to do some climbing and play assorted outdoor games, do some hiking and some playing in the lake. They do traditional crafts (including weaving and pottery) and sing and dance in the evenings.

Every night after the children are in their bunks, staff members walk from cabin to cabin serenading the campers to send them off to sleep. That is one of the many traditions that seems to have lasted since I attended more than thirty years ago.

The camp has a farm where children get to care for goats, pigs, and cows as well as gather eggs from the chickens. The campers also harvest produce--everything from cantaloupe and broccoli and tomatoes to corn and potatoes. The farm provides about 70% of the food for the camp. Astounding. Talk about eating local! The camp even has an old gristmill where campers grind the homegrown corn into grits for breakfast and cornmeal for tortillas.



Son was very excited to arrive, only getting a little nervous about leaving us at the very end. He and his counselors made up his bed and unpacked, then he gave us hugs and smiles and set out for adventure.



* * *

Son's camp session is one week long, and while he enjoys his time there, David and I are staying in a little lake-front cabin about five miles away.




And the adventures in store for us? Reading. Knitting. Quiet conversations. Maybe, if we're feeling really wild, we'll walk around the lake.

David asks me if I can remember what else it is that couples without their children do....