This weekend, we went camping. We were in the Adirondacks, of course, and it was gorgeous. Although the last week had been very, very hot, this weekend was much cooler, and misty for most of Saturday, and rainy for today. We stayed in a cabin that had originally been built during the Great Depression as part of the job-providing efforts of the PWA (or so I gather), and which has been continually maintained since then. It was gorgeous. There were a few such cabins, and we were in a row of two (quite a row, I know), but we were on the end and the other cabin was unoccupied.
This was the room I slept in, it had the fireplace in it, which was awesome. I felt like a medieval princess, sleeping with a fire going all night. The fireplace was really nice, too, big and made of bricks. There was no heating systems in place other than the fireplace. There was one elecrical outlet in the kitchen, lighting consisting of a single lightbulb in all rooms, a refrigerator, and an oven/stove. I thought it was perfect.
On our first night there, we didn’t have time for much else other than starting a fire. The menfolk drove off to find a local gas station from which to buy firewood (you’re not allowed to transport firewood more than 50 miles from where you found it. This rule is part of an effort to prevent the spread of some noxious insect, which we don’t want here in NY, thankyouverymuch.), and I set about finding some twigs from branches that had fallen to the ground, but were raised up off it so that they weren’t too wet for me to light. I was determined to get a fire going before the boys could get back with their bundles of firewood (I was worried they would try to cheat with lighter fluid), and I did. With half of one piece of newspaper and slightly damp wood, I might add. I am the Wyoming Princess.
In Wyoming, the mountains and woods are mainly treed with pine, with a few copses of aspen per forest. In New York, though, the trees and plants vary enormously. Even the colors of green vary from plant to plant, and area to area. There were probably five bushes of these purple flowers in a clump by the side of the road within our campground. The plants were taller than I was, and the purple flowers were gorgeous.
Saturday, we went for a walk around the lake, which was small but absolutely gorgeous. I think the misty weather contributed to the fantasy feel. Look at that lake!
Also, look at this pavilion. It made me think of Heorot, the hall of Hrothgar, the king that Beowulf rids of Grendel. I just thought it was the most gorgeous little building, in the most perfect setting. I would get married there, wouldn’t you?
I had a fantastic time, and I think everyone else did, too. Plus -- we had about a zillion marshmallows each.
