A magical campsite

WHAT a beautiful and magical campground the Fisherman discovered for us this time! In the Peninsula Campground we parked our gypsy trailer and started to set up house…

Douglas fir, grand fir, lodgepole pine and western larch molded the diverse topography of the park, which ranged from arid sagebrush flats to forested lakeside trails; from even ground to steep cliffs; and from dense forest to spongy marsh. From the lofty canopies of the 150-foot-tall ponderosa pines parapenting our house on wheels to us came the high pitch and ruckus of some of the largest and boisterous crows I had ever seen… as if welcoming us to their habitat, or perhaps letting us know that to them and only them belonged this magical place?

Enchanted, I looked up and was again enthralled by the sight of the masses of wispy butterflies floating around the tall Ponderosa pines… strange and magical—mottled white and light tan wings hovering in lush canopies. Did they too live in the giant pines? Did they share beds with the crow?

After dinner we got in our bikes and went to explore around our camp.  The park has some amazing hiking and biking trails, guided walks with park naturalists and evening campfire programs.  We stopped at a scenic overlook with a spectacular view of the lake and went down to it; to walk around and check for fishing possibilities.  So beautiful was the place that we got carried away and kept riding our bikes for almost three miles before realizing that we were lost and couldn’t tell how far or how close we were to our campground… 

 

And how wonderful it was finding our campsite again!  Evening was gently descending upon us already and how beautiful and magical it was the sight, the view and the discovery of dozens of deer roaming freely around the campground.  I could hardly believe what I was seeing!

The next day dawned on us with a beautiful morning—carried upon its wings were the songs of birds and the character of the park molded by its diverse topography.  After breakfast, we mounted our bikes again and went to visit the visitor center, with its North Beach Unit and beautiful beach and picnic area, fire rings, picnic tables, and cabins… 

The trails were rich in wildflowers, especially along the interpretive trail that winds around the Meadow Marsh. Nature trails and gravel roads have been developed so visitors can enjoy opportunities to view wildlife in these areas.  Canada geese, osprey, bald eagles, wood ducks, mallards, songbirds, deer, moose, beaver, muskrats and even bear abound in the area.  When we got back to our magical campground, a fox was peacefully resting right next to our site… as if waiting for us I suppose!

I took pictures, I stood very close to her and still she would not lose her serene demeaner… until it was time to leave.  We saw her got up, stretched and disappear in the brush as magical as she had appeared.

After that we droved to town... for a caramel latte and a lemon pound cake, for a walk by the lake shores and for a talk with strangers and store owners, to browse through clothing and all kinds of goodies in quaint little stores embellished with beautiful pots with all kind of flowers...

That afternoon we went to a neighboring camp and went to find the famous pond where fishes supposedly abounded but couldn’t find not one, we made pizza for dinner and rode our bikes some more, we read books and listened to music, and then late in the evening we went to the family showers and took a shower together.  Tired, refreshed, contented and thankful for all the good things in life and for our gypsy camper… for coziness inside and startdust outside... 

Lovely summer!

Gardening requires lots of water — most of it in the form of perspiration, I’d have to say.  But, if you live in these parts of the world where rain is infrequent and when it happens, it is only just a few drops and never ever the torrential rains of the south that I so love, then, it must also come in the form of some type of irrigation system… like our sprinklers!

  

And how I love sprinklers in the garden!  It is such a joy to sit in the porch and quietly watch how the garden gets saturated.  I can hear the garden singing—like a maiden in her shower, and the sounds are lovely sounds, and the voice is a lovely voice… 

...and it is like stepping into some sorts of a magical water world with its spray in my face and its mist erasing the outline of the garden and transforming it into some mysterious sorts of a place, foamy and smooth and green like glass over sunken roses and garden phlox. 

How suggestive the sounds of water upon roses and petals and green grasses!  They seem to fill the soul with the noblest of all music as the possibilities of life sweep the garden…

An especially serene dove has moved into the garden. Was the garden her birthplace perhaps?  Had she been born here and then decided she liked the place her parents had chosen as her place of origin, enough for her to make it her home?  I like to think that’s how it is.

Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as paint, and the soil and sky as canvas and my heart—my heart is the storehouse where each and every piece of art born in the garden is stored and kept so I can later retrieve them as my soul may need it.

I have a magical window too.  Each summer it gets covered in petals.  Roses want to climb in and evening light peeks in spreading little luminous dots on walls and floors inside.  Sometimes, I can even see the yellow face of the last sun reflected on the glass, and I see him smiling down at me; connoisseur of my secrets and deepest wants.

Looking to the outside from the inside is as magical too...

And all this magic is the product of summer. Beautiful summer.  Kind summer.  

I often hear people complain about the heat of summer; complaining about this and that about summer.  I would never understand this.  Even if it is uncomfortable sometimes, and I’d have to admit that camping in the summertime and living in a trailer is less than bearable, I still would have to prefer summer to winter…  any time, summer! My heart is a sunflower planted in the fields of summer.  How about you?  Do you love summer?

Stay, summer stay!

And it is geranium season too—all of them being in their glorious peak right now, with leaves and blooms so full and round and colorful….  

 

 

 

The enchanting dark yellow Black-eyed Susan are in bloom too.  Late last summer I had this idea of filling my summer garden with yellows.  Yellows, more soothing, beautiful happy yellows! Thus, I divided and planted more of these flowers in several parts of the garden.  My goal was to see more precious yellow among all the pinks of roses and greens of shrubbery... and what gift is has been seeing them flourished as they have.   

 



 

 

...my dream had flourished too, although not as much as I’d had liked it to; the reason being that I have run out of space in the garden, and shrubs and perennials have taken over and have spread out and grown so much, that I can only count with just a few free spaces for my precious yellows… 

Not that I haven’t felt the shift in the atmosphere already… yes, in the heat of August, the earth is already tilting on its axis… and my soul is already feeling it…

It had always happened to me—this discerning of things, of changes so subtle and inconspicuous to the common eye.  I remember when we used to lived here, many years before moving south, how I always felt the same sensation of anticipated changes… a shift almost unnoticeable, a change so elusive and yet there it was… the sun gifting us a new sense of light; green and low in the early morning, making the sky seem laden with rain that never happened...  

 

Knowing change is coming tends to spark a bit of nervous energy within me, making me feel like I need to prepare myself or brace for impact — even when it's as simple as allowing the seasons to turn.  Does this happens to you too?  Can you notice the changes, the sense that something is about to change?  Oh summer, stay a little longer!