Already June

Every fluctuation in the weather is noticed out here; every minute of light added or taken away observed. This year began with heat - shorts and tank tops required for the first few days - a stark contrast to the snow that greeted everyone as we emerged from tents and trailers on the first day of the season last year. As a result, the trees budded weeks before they usually do. The last two years I remember the moment, around 4am, while walking down a path through the trees, that I saw the first buds and leaves appear. The heralds of spring. This year they came before I could await their arrival.

Birds chirp at all times of day here. There is one bird I especially notice in the evening, its ribbon of sound cutting through the dusk. It reminds me of where we are. We are in no city or town. No glow of lights creates a halo above us, just the hum of generators running on gasoline. And when the generators are turned off for the night - peace, the blessed quiet. The absence of sound is a lullaby all its own. This time is my favorite time of day out here. The camp full, everyone is sleeping or falling asleep after a day well spent. This happens between 9 and 9 30pm. By 10 camp is quiet.

The sky out here is big. Big sky is where I feel most at home - either fringed by forest, or prairie. I suppose that's why I feel so at home in front of the ocean, because of the big sky holding court above it.

It already June, my beautiful Mother's birthday has passes and G&T's big day is later this week. The summer seems to be passing quickly this year. I have settled into my new role - camp paperwork hound, data entry person, safety coordinator. I like it. It is a much calmer existence than cooking. Though ultimate calm continues to elude me, I appreciate the concreteness of my job this year. The steady checking off of to do's on my list.

'Til next time,
Elizabeth