a dapple of my weekend

Another weekend come and gone. Can you believe it's August already? I feel like just a blink ago it was June. I can't make it any more cliche--time is flying by. It's sad, in a way, but it also feels right. It feels right that it's the 8th of August. Although maybe that's because I'm rather looking forward to the fall--I feel like without school looming ahead, the fall months seem to hold happy prospects for me. We'll see.

In the meantime, I've been trying to savor every tiny second of summer.

This weekend I went camping with friends in a state park filled with mountains and streams and hiking trails. It was splendid.

As a kid, my family used to go camping at least once every single summer, driving all over New England. From the White Mountains in New Hampshire to the Berkshires in Massachusetts, we would set up the tent, start a fire, and get out the games, sometimes even braving terrible thunderstorms.

This weekend I traveled to a part of the state I had never seen and submerged myself in all things camping--hiking, roasting marshmallows over the fire, surviving with only an outhouse, playing games by lantern-light, listening to bugs and birds outside the tent (and once even a coyote!), smelling like bug spray perpetually, and cozying up in a sleeping bag.

It was a perfect August weekend.