Tomorrow is the last day of summer camp for the season. Time to put away all of the craft supplies, sunscreen, and pool equipment. Time to gear up for the Fall.
Tonight it doesn't feel like summer. The fog drifted in before eight, smothering the rising moon as it cleared the trees. Bats flitted here and there, decimating the insect population as they went. The last campfire and barbeque went well. It seems so out of time somehow - the families sitting together on the concrete steps of the amphitheatre, the camp songs, silly skits, and raffle. Like a slice of childhood. Of course, many of the items that get raffled off to unsuspecting campers look like they have been sitting in somebody's garage since my childhood. Well, except maybe for the baby shower sign recently uprooted from the side of the road leading up to camp. People are always forgetting to take their signs down. Have an event at the park? Put up lots of signs so your guests can find the way. Afterwards, conveniently forget about your damn signs. When Jen and I got married nearby, you'd better believe that we remembered to take the signs down. Maybe some sixth sense was telling me that if we left them up they'd end up in a summer camp raffle.