That old house in the roses

Camping at the “Lilac trees” campground, as I call this place...

I still remember last year’s penuries, the intense heat of July, the amount of people, their loud music and the particularly barrenness of the campground the Fisherman had chosen... I swore I never wanted to come back here again, if it wasn’t at that time of the year in early April when the lilac trees are in bloom and the intoxicating scent of its flowers pervades the campsite for miles around. But this year the Fisherman chose right, and we got a place up on the higher grounds, outlooking the lake, were a small grove of trees and pines gives campers and gypsies their much-needed respite from the sun...

Campers were fewer this year too; with just the right amount of boats on the lake and children swimming in the afternoon, and birds seem to be everywhere this year, knowing perhaps that they have more liberty now with less people around, you find them flying from tree to tree everywhere, and the better part of it is, you can hear the too... their songs filling the airs and soothing your soul.

I loved it here this year; and I’m so thankful—loved being able to sit outside under the shade of trees and just look down at the lake and at the boats going by and youth screaming with joy as boats race hauling them in their floating devices...

After our late lunch, we put our chairs out and brought our books, then I started my computer and wrote and wrote... and how peaceful it felt, and how I loved pouring out my heart into words for hours without end... until all of a sudden we noticed that the sun was coming down and that the people next to us were busy working on their dinner, and the Fisherman stood up and started making dinner too.

We went for a walk around the campground right after dinner, and although it was still somewhat hot, I had energy enough to feel happy doing so...

When we came back to our camp we sat down again and again I wrote some more while the Fisherman read his new book... It was beautiful at this time of the day. Sunshine on the water made little twinkling stars and they shined and twinkle and the entire surface of the lake seem like a sky of glass.

...until the sun plunged behind those tall mountains in front of us and as soon as it did, temperatures plunged down as well, and it got a bit chilly... so sudden, that it was almost hard to believe... ah the power of the sun!

It was beautiful outside at this time of the day.

We went inside and made sure our windows were all drown and that the gypsy caravan felt comfortable and cozy and then we read some more under the lights of lamps, before falling asleep.

I am feeling so much energetic these days, and I am so thankful for that... for a while now, my levels of energy had been slowly decreasing, and I have to wonder if this new energy had something to do with the vitamins 12 I started taking, and the spirulina, although I think it must probably has something to do with the inflammation medication that I’m also taking, which it is acting marvelous on my joins and movements.

So, by 6:30 am I was up, got dressed, and went outside to prepare our breakfast... it felt so good being able to do the things I used to and not having the Fisherman do them for me...

It was such a beautiful morning too, clear and with a wonderful blue sky above our heads. We decided it was the perfect time for a little hike, and thus we hiked to the top of the hill, to where a small overlook stands and one can view the entire campground from there as campers start making there breakfast and the day wakes up.

The hills were covered in wildflowers and it felt peaceful and quiet and I thought of how fortunate we were to still have peace in our midst and be able to enjoy the little things in life, which are really the big things in life, when others can’t or won’t.

Later that morning we droved down to the peer so that the Fisherman could fish. We took our chairs and I read while the Fisherman fished or killed fish. For he did. He was too slow in removing the hook out on one fish, and although we tried saving the little thing, we couldn’t and I felt terribly bad for it...

We drove around the other side of the campground to take a look at future prospect sites and to see people’s motorhomes and campers and then came back to another cup of cinnamon coffee and toasts. Ah, those awesome flavors of that ‘cinnamon’ coffee, which I have kept in our gypsy camper and only use when camping—every time I drink this coffee, I’m taken back to Cartagena, Colombia in memories, where we bought it last year in June when we visited Colombia for our nephew’s Alex’s wedding.