I never went to camp. I grew up on a farm, and my mother ran it, so she was always home. Summers were spent on the back of a pony, or in the tree house, or fishing at the pond.
Also, I suffered from homesickness that was so strong that I couldn't go away to college, much less to camp. Luckily, a good state university was down the road about four miles, or I'd have been taking correspondence courses. (Yes, I did eventually move away from home.)
G.P., having two parents who work "off the farm," has gone to day camp since he was 5. He has spent the last two summers at the local nature society camp, which is located on a wonderful nature preserve about five miles away from us, and he has loved it. Each week focused on a different type of ecosystem or class of animals - he was in his element.
He has shown a little of my homesickness, but has generally been fine when he likes what he is doing. (We did go through a period last summer when he hated the camp we had signed him up to attend all summer, and even after we moved him back to the nature camp, he spent a week or two climbing up on the roof of my car every morning when we pulled into the camp parking lot. Since I drive a Suburban - unfortunately - it was quite a feat.)
This year, since he has done the nature camp program twice, we decided that he needed to branch out. We went to the local camp fair, carted home - I am not exaggerating - 70 camp brochures, and started trying to plan a summer for him. I feel certain that they put army recruits through an entire six month logistics training program to accomplish just this sort of planning. I had to muddle through without such training.
Today was the end of the first week. Pickings were slim, as most camps don't start until this coming Monday. Luckily, a local stable (ok, in the next state,) has a riding camp, and it started this week.
Today was the end of camp horse show:
Having grown up on a horse farm, I know a horse who is related to Eeyore when I see one.
Papa and Nana came too:
I count the week a success because 1) no body parts were broken, crushed or perforated, and 2) G.P. was happy to go every morning.
Next week, he starts the first of four weeks - although not all consecutive - at the local JCC. The JCC has a great pool, and he gets a swimming lesson each morning. The pool also has a wicked curved sliding board, and he knows the place since we are members. Keep your fingers crossed.
Tonight, we made a great discovery:
And, a not so great discovery:
My dad and I tried to eliminate a nest like this thirty years ago. It was in an azalea, and several people had been stung as they walked by. Dad decided to wait for night, and use one of those weed burners attached to a propane tank. That's right, a flamethrower. My job was to carry the propane tank. I was scared out of my mind, but I wasn't ever going to admit that to him. We snuck up - as much as two people can sneak when one is carrying a lit flamethrower and the other is carrying a forty pound highly flammable tank of pressurized combustible fuel. Dad got us into position, said "Ready?" and cranked the flamethrower to high. We only got stung a few times, and I think the azalea even survived.
I'm sorry I missed the horse show. Please don't firebomb the hornets' nest until I get home. A burning bush is one thing, but a burning house is another.
Posted by: defender of liberty | June 16, 2007 at 01:09 AM