Helter skelter in the summer swelter

Happy September 1st!

In my world, fall begins September 1st and lasts until Thanksgiving.

But it ain't been feelin' like fall.
Feels like 100 degrees.

Which it was today in Spearfish when Sassy and I rode bikes up the canyon and met up with Tess and Cody to do some climbing.

This was only my second time climbing, but I'm quickly falling in love.

I've got this thing where I can try and try and try to make it past a spot, and fall and swing and try and fall again and again, and just as my muscles are exhausted and shaking and my fingertips feel shredded and I'm about to call it quits for now because I've about got nothing left, I say OK, just one more try and it always seems to be on that last ditch all-or-nothing effort that I finally make it.

And oh that feeling of exhilaration and success.

It's a cool combination of daring, strength, problem solving and grit (and finesse, but I haven't figured that part out yet).

We had a great afternoon.

It's been quite a month, August.
After the Rally, which ended on the 12th-ish, it's been one thing after another. I was afraid camp, as fun as it was, would make me miss out on summer with my town friends and all that that entails, but August saved plenty of summer for me.

 
The other day, I looked back at my calendar and realized for the past ten days straight I'd done something fun and social every day.

I'm not typically so social, but it's sure been a great month and I've loved every minute.

Like, really.

Not so sweltering for these couple of days around the 15th - see? Jackets! It felt like fall!

The "Mean Girls"

There have been many bike rides with various people - big groups, core groups, just me, just me and another. There have been dinner and beers and laughs after, as is tradition.

This one night, I went alone to movie under the stars in the square. Just me and my lawn chair and my little dinner of steak and...all these people.

They played MIB I. "'Cause I thought it was odd that he asked me for sugar water, and not lemonade or ice water or regular water or tap water."

And then towards the end of the movie Matt, Alaina and Sean showed up looking for me.

I tried to take a group photo.

It took a few tries.

Oops, I cut me out.

Oops, cut Matt out.

Ooh, fuzzy Matt.

Close enough.
I think it's funny how Sean's smile fades a little more with each picture.

And then they said "Hey, we're right downtown by the theater, want to see a movie?" and though I'd just seen one and it was ten o'clock at night, we did.

 

Well, that was my photo dump of the pictures I've acquired since being back home.

And now...I'm in Spearfish watching a movie with Sassy, going to crash on their couch for the night.

And in the morning - the Five-O! (Good luck, Cory and Timmy and all the others!).
(As for me and a few others, we plan to take a short-cut ride to the "Bacon Station" at around mile 30, and then hang out eating bacon and waiting for our friends to ride by.

Sounds OK by me.

Happy last few days of summer, everyone!
Pack in every last magic moment of summer adventures.

A smattering of people and places

I'm in town for two days, roasting coffee and running errands for camp.

I walked into my house yesterday.

And it felt glorious.

No matter how much you love where you go and where you are, it's always good to come home.

It's good to be alone, sometimes, too.

I watched an old movie in my bed.
And when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I didn't have to go outside in the cold (I realize it wasn't very cold last night in town, but it's always chilly at night up at camp).

I had breakfast and coffee on the patio at Bully's, as I usually do on weekends in the summer, reading a book. It was so nice and relaxing.

But one thing I love about being at camp is waking up in the morning and stepping outside into the woods. Before brushing teeth or listening to the news or taking a shower, there's the woods with the morning sun slanting golden through the trees, and the pine laden breeze, and the birds calling merrily to and fro.

(And sometimes there are scouts the next hill over, playing Revelry and hoo-hawing their youthful exuberance to the morning.

Boys.)

Some of the junior staff while on an Outpost hike: Squid, Platypus and Ducky.

My buds. They can always make me laugh.

It's easier than you'd think, however, despite the magic of the place, to begin taking things for granted.

So sometimes when I'm walking down the road for the umpteenth time that morning between the Trading Post and the Office, I'll take inventory of my sensory input, to remind myself to be aware and thankful.

There are flocks of butterflies everywhere! All kinds. Sometimes you'll be walking along and suddenly a cloud of pale blue butterflies bursts from the ground to say hello.

I love the smell of campfires in the evening.

Always a pal to be found.

Of the Finer Things Club:

We made homemade hot chocolate with milk we pilfered from the kitchen on a cold and rainy campfire evening.

I have an electric teapot I brought to camp, as well as my french press.

When the curtains to my room are open, that means people are welcome to stop by for coffee, or tea, and a chat.

The screen is such that I can easily pull open just a corner and pour coffee into an outstretched mug.

What the rest of camp eats:

What the Finer Things Club eats:

This past weekend, plans got a little wonky but ended up working out for the best.

The boys went climbing.

The girls went to Galena.
It was good to have girl time.

We show up on Ryan's Mom's doorstep and are greeted warmly.

We spent the afternoon lying in the shade on a blanket near the road as the Tatanka 100 bike race happened to be that day and passed through Galena. We offered beer and cheered them on as they went by, calling encouragement and telling each that they were the first we'd seen and were in first place.

Sassy's dog Wrigley, whom I call Rugby.

They might've been disappointed when they got to the end and found out otherwise, but meanwhile I'm sure it gave them the umph to carry on.

It's the thought that counts.

Eventually we moved to the front porch for some front porch sittin' and books.

I adore these pictures:

If no other good came from my time at camp save my having met Sassy and our becoming friends, it would be time well spent.

We hit it off from the start, a rare occurrence.

She's good people, this girl.

A keeper, for sure.

"Join me, let's read."

We moved to read aloud on the steps so as not to disturb Gwen just inside the screen door, listening to Prairie Home Companion.

What we saw directly in front of us:

And the view beyond the chickens:

 And that's an update.

A disjointed collection of pictures and happenings.

Happy trails out there.

Happy Wednesday.

Happy summer!
And don't forget to make the most of where you are.

A dark and stormy night

It was a dark and stormy night.

No it really was this time!

It's a dark and stormy night story!

So the night was going so well.

Lost, Sassy and I had hiked up to Medicine Mountain for the Tuesday night Outpost again with the scouts. Lost was technically leading, but he's trying to pass it on to the junior staff so we hung back, the three of us, and did our own thing, only making ourselves available if they needed anything.

 We set up our shelters down the hill a ways from the junior staff and young scouts, Sassy and I rigging up a lean-to tarp with Lost's hammock and rain flap.

And it was a great shelter, a lean-to like a cozy cave which kept us protected yet not entirely enclosed.

From inside our cave we watched the storm roll in over the cliff's edge by which we were perched, as we had snacks and tea (of course the Finer Things Club brought tea while camping) and then situated ourselves comfortably on the sloped ground (much hilarity ensued).

Once we were nestled, Sassy read aloud from her book - 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea - and the rain began, accompanying with its gentle pattering against the tarp. It was cool enough to really snuggle down inside the sleeping bag, and there was the gentle breeze lilting in through the opening of our little cave, smelling of rain on pine, feeling more of fall than summer.

Sassy read and the crisp breeze wafted and the rain chattered comfortably. The grey sky darkened as night softly and unobtrusively took its turn at the helm. Our companionship seemed a tangible entity.

And all was right with the world.

"Shh, you guys," I finally said. "Look, this is a perfect moment."

And it was.

Darkness settled in and we finished the chapter and bid one another goodnight. Lulled by the sound and scent of the rain, we fell promptly asleep.

We all slept soundly.

For about 30 minutes.

Until the junior staff from up the hill showed up with their flashlights and calls of "Lost? Lost? LOST???" Finally I threw something at Ryan, camp name Lost, (a shoe? A stick? A rock? I'm not sure). "WHAT???"

And then we maybe slept a total of one hour for the rest of the night.

Wet, shivering, crying scouts who hadn't learned their Wilderness Survival lessons that day at camp and were improperly attired and sheltered were sent down the mountain where Buck (our boss), whom we'd radioed, picked them up and took them back to camp.

When that fiasco was through, we settled down to sleep again and were just dozing off when Ducky shows up with his flashlight a'glowin'.

Back and forth he came, keeping us updated on the crying, wet, shivering scouts he put inside his tent until finally he'd given up his sleeping bag as well and had no more room to spare in his tent and was asking to be allowed to hike back down to camp. Alone? In the dark and stormy night?

Lost said no.

We three felt like parents telling our kids to just GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND GO TO SLEEP, FOR GOSH DARN SAKE!

And then we shone our flashlight on Ducky and saw him blue and wet and shivering, having given up his shelter and sleeping bag to the scouts.

So in he came, into the cave, where there was now suddenly a shortage of shelter and sleeping bags.

The rain eventually let up (four hours later), but the wind picked up, harsh and cold, and every twenty minutes or so Ducky asked what time it was.

But amidst it all, there were such moments of laughter over the utter ridiculousness of how the night had turned out. We laughed and hooted and cursed and blamed one another and laughed some more.

The hilarity carried us through to a morning that dawned a bright and cold 40 degrees on the mountain.

It was definitely a memorable Outpost, fun despite it all, or because of it all.

That's the stuff memories are made of.

We packed up our shelter, and gathered up the remainder of the soggy, shivering scouts, teaching them Sassy's "hypothermia dance" to warm them, and headed down to camp.

And there was my meadow, gleaming in the freshly washed morning, dazzling and sweet.

Just another day in Neverwood.