An Ode to Camp

Red cabins, backlit by the morning sun. Mist blankets the surface of the lake. Colorful towels flap in the breeze. The crunch of gravel announces an approaching guest. The screen door slaps. Laughter. Crayfish city. Freshwater clams. The ever-present purr of a jet ski. Five minutes of blessed sunshine for every fifty minutes of cloud cover. The slap of waves against the kayak. Cold beer. The company of good friends. Watermelon. S’mores. Sticky faces and hands. An uncomfortably small shower stall. The happy shrieks of children who have made a discovery–perhaps a new friend, an old crustacean, an almost tame flock of ducks. Or maybe it’s the certainty that life, in that moment, is good.

This is Summer.