2011 Camp Yummie- Part 1

Today is due to be a real scorcher. The stuff that gives summer a bad name.... for some. I'm still looking forward to it. Can't complain about the heat, and also about the cold, and I reserve my complaints for the cold! Took one on the chin this morning, from Peaches, the paint mare, who apparently was dozing or something, and when I went to put her fly mask on she shied into my face. Jaw is still working, chin just a tad bit larger than previous.
Summer is those things, hot, ripe for flies and other biting insects, but "Summer" is a beautiful word, and conjures much more in my mind than those. I love the richness and depth of the greens, and the blue and lacy wildflowers at the edges of the fields, and the hummmm and buzz of the cicadas. The air is always full of sound, until it is still, just as the dark clouds roll in over the soybeans and the critters have found a place to weather the storm.
And the idyllic Summer, of swimming in the lake, paddling around in a damp kayak, sitting by the pool with an icy drink, riding bikes to the beach, reading a lazy chapter? Mine too.
Maybe not the whole summer, but the wonderful too short, days of "Camp Yummie". My kids call my mother "Yummie" and my father "Poppie". Yummie and Poppie have a beautiful home on a secluded cove of the Chesapeake Bay. Each year, we struggle to mash our schedules around until my sisters, their families and mine can meet for a few days at my parent's home- the days dubbed "Camp Yummie".
Sometimes it is extremely hot and humid, but not this year. We arrived just before a grand downpour- " a goose-drowner" as my friend, Tary Mike, would say. I sat on the wicker couch, on the wide flagstone back porch and watched the world disappear in a sheet of rain, small misty droplets being blown even as far as me on the couch, the awnings keeping the bulk of the bounty at bay.
And, thereafter, we had the most glorious temperatures! I borrowed a polar tech fleece sweatshirt from my mother's closet, and used it most everyday there. ( I know, I know, even on vacation I can't escape the siren song of polar tech.)
Eldest Sister (as in mine own) was the last to arrive, coming in after I'd given up the wait and climbed into the tub, which made it more fun to bump into her as we started the morning breakfast ritual the next day. Breakfast at Camp Yummie is on the screen porch, as are most all our meals. Out on the porch is a large toaster, an electric griddle and most other necessary accoutrements of whipping up a short order breakfast for 15. (We were missing a few, usually we are 17, including Emily, but Eldest SisterHuz couldn't make it, and my own Eldest was at Drum Major Academy-see last blog). And, Emily? Well, Emily is a family member, not by birth, but because we love her. It is like having a Goddess join the family. You'll see.
Eldest Sister brought her two girls and their bouncy energy force a.k.a. Gretyl The Boxer.
Middlest Sister brought her three girls, Middlest SisterHuz, and their sweet, too-friendly-when-wet, Golden Retriever.
Now, I have to say my account is becoming inaccurate ( the informed would argue all my posts do the same) because before the arrival of the Camp Yummie hoard, there were already two campers firmly ensconced at Wing and Wing. (Name of my parent's home and something obscure to do with two sails on a sail boat...and yes, the explanation was given. I just tend to drift when sailboat talk begins).
These two campers were Youngest- the sole male of the generation, and Eldest Sister's Youngest, hereafter known as Young B. Youngest and Young B were enrolled in Sailing Camp at my parent's yacht club, an intensive two week course designed to take little people and turn them into seasoned Seadogs. Our two little 10 year olds successfully navigated the course, sailing their own little sailboats around at warp speed. (Okay, if you've ever seen sailboats, you now are certain my posts tend towards inaccuracies). Still, I am so proud of them both and their newly minted and enthused sailing skills. Camp Yummie was shortened this year due to our not wanting to be there for much of the Sailing Camp course- too many cousinly distractions- on one side and the arrival at Wing and Wing of another set of guests for the annual Plein Air Festival on the other. Still, there were two days of Sailing Camp left when we arrived. I was just happy to see my little guy- and he was happy to see me too. Well, until I made him pick the brownie crumbs he'd dropped and then ground into my mother's new sisal rug out with a toothpick. After that, I'm pretty sure he wished I'd just go back to Ohio.  Two remaining days of Sailing Camp ensured our being able to observe the sailing stylings of Youngest and Young B, along with the wealth of other white- sailed camp mates.

Methinks it's time fer some pick-chures, Arrrgh.

Poppie takes a leap!

Race back across the cove. Tucker is winning. (He's mine own sweet, too-friendly-when-wet-and-always-wet-at-Camp-Yummie dog.)

Middlest making her way back to the dock.

Youngest being himself.

Evening arrival of Emily! She is swamped with hugs from bodies dripping in baywater and buffered by soaked orange floats. Lucky Goddess.

Morning on the cove. Goosebumps on our arms, kids in the water anyway.

Huz in his Summer office.

The boat Youngest sailed at Sailing Camp. (fish tales as long as a yardarm)