Labor Day Weekend

This is the weekend my son-in-law, the entymologyst (Bug Man) rents Sherwood Forest, an entire section of a state park an hour away, for group camping. No tents, no campers, just four clusters of ten primitive cabins with bunks. There is a group bathroom/shower house for each cluster.

He has twelve siblings and all of them have many children. There were so many kids, there must have been sixty this year; as all of the children are getting older and they invited their friends for this four day Labor Day campout. Ball fields overflowed with teens and preteens kicking a soccer ball.


The volley ball court always has a competetive game going on. The younger children ride bikes, go on hikes and shoot archery like the adults do, but the children use blunt arrows and think their big shots.


The adults number about 30-40, and everyday is a food fest; everything is prepared in a mess hall by individual families. We eat all weekend, and laugh and talk and sweat. Primitive means no air conditioning, and it was 97 degrees yesterday until late evening when a cold front moved in with fifty mph winds, kicked up dust, sent leaves swirling and cooled everyone down. We used to spend the entire weekend, but now hubby and I spend one entire day. The only thing we didn't do is lie down in the field and star gaze before bedtime. We were headed home by 9:00 p.m.

I love taking pictures, so hubby and I went on a hike and photographed leaves. He came up with a great caption/title for our combined efforts. Now I think I will develop a poetry chapbook with our photos and his title.

As I walked down a trail I wished aloud, "One flower, all I need is a picture of one wild flower to complete this." The trail opened at a field of golden flowers.


Such a nice and unexpected blessing, but the real surprise came when I saw this beautiful large butterfly lift off from one of the flowers. My camera was too slow, but this is my generous gift from Mother Nature.