Our afternoon rain has slipped into our evening. Thankfully it delayed until the reunion party using the pavilion had departed and we fell back into hushed mode. Tranquility is the norm at Millpond but when it rains there is a Halloween like spookiness that sends chills up and down your backbone. Gigantic gangly tree limbs dressed in thick green moss cast eerie shadows on the paths. A canopy of vines high above the tree tops allow vaguely filtered light, changing the appearance of the park. Predator birds flutter from limb to limb sharply expressing their displeasure of the weather. Their piercing screams disrupt the silence and startle us as we drive through checking the status of site availability. Our campers are huddled together for warmth, tent people in their cars, trailer people in their kitchens. Thin trails of smoke from drowning camp fires are floating between the raindrops. It’s one of those days I am glad we have our home with us wherever we are temporarily planted.
Another rain cooled day. Most of our work is under cover so we don’t mind the wet. I start towards the flush toilets and silently pray that campers have been mindful of the “leave nothing but footprints” code. I may have seven toilets to clean over Johns two but the smell from mine is minimal while the odor released from his vaults is too nauseating for me to endure. Besides, my work camping rule was never to do toilets, yet here I am with seven.
Ray and Karen, our Rock Creek host neighbors, stopped in for a visit. They have just purchased a 26’ travel home with two slides. Both are excited about having all that extra space. I’m still amazed that they both survived thus far in a 19’ camper van. They seem genuinely happy with their new rolling home. As we sit and chat, our little “guzzler” is busy chasing newcomers away from his own private store of nectar then pauses to sit, waiting for his next challenge.
Our park is again overflowing with families for another full weekend starting Thursday night all the way through to Sunday. The beauty of this campground is hard to photo. The campsites are surrounded by trees and are tucked into their own semi private niches.
Our neighbor John has a large Christian crowd at his group campground. Down at the swimming hole the shrill cold water shrieks echo around the dozen or so mini kids splashing in the water. The sounds break into our quiet. We have a wedding and our neighbor John’s group will use our small swimming hole for a baptism. That’s 150 people by the swimming hole, over two thirds being children, and 100 at the pavilion for a wedding. It is nowhere near quiet for the next 3 hours.
Bats just came out and darted over our heads leaving for the night. The bride and groom are off on their life adventure, the baptism has added another soul to the Baptist church and clean-up is complete. Our forest ranger stopped to say “hi” before we begin our bounce on down the road to do our nightly potty room toilet paper check. Hard to believe we have been here long enough to gather cob webs on our tire wells and under our steps.
