"How did summer go?"

What the… it’s already September?? I’ve been at the Cove for 5 months now, and the time warp is real. Has it sped by, crept along, is there anything else even happening in the world? I currently have a weird amount of time “off,” although you’re never really off when you’re here. There’s always something to clean, or it’s pouring rain so you have to squeegee the decks or else the lodge will flood, or you should respond to some emails, or write a reference, or weed the garden. But for the most part, I am enjoying some much needed relaxing time after an absolutely bonkers summer. Sitting here in my cozy cabin, I can’t even remember why the summer was so crazy—I’m so far removed now that summer was a whole two weeks ago, and I’ve fully caught up on sleep.

The other night in DC I sat at a beautiful Shabbat dinner where we went around and shared a theme from our summer. The first theme that came to my mind was emptiness. We are so used to having Vini’s voice eloquently or humorously explain something, and this summer we only had our three voices. Often it just felt as though we were stumbling along, going through the motions and probably missing a lot of nuance along the way. We would get to the end of a reading, or Final Circle, or Folklore Night, and say something like: “well, that went Ok, but it felt sort of empty.” At the same time we knew that we were still helping create the magic for the campers, and to them it probably didn’t feel all that different. For those who aren’t camp people reading this, there’s a common phrase most often said by Vini—“there’s no fuckin’ magic,” which refers to how life on the staff side of things is a lot of behind the scenes work to create each unique camp session.

Many people have asked me the “how are things going?” question. I’ve said something along these lines:

For the campers, this summer was hugely successful. They loved camp, they can’t wait to come back, and the magic was fully there. For staff, they worked their butts off, seemed to have a pretty good time, and pulled off a ton of magic for the campers, and I think there was some for themselves too. For us Leader Ladies, there were a select few times where we felt the magic for ourselves. I have one distinct memory of feeling really good—Jennifer and I finished serving firsts on burgers on the Bald to the camp session and we sat down on the edge of the group of campers and staff to snarf our own food before serving seconds. The light was gorgeous, all the people around us were happily shouting/ arguing about some fun conversation topic, all we had left to do was Final Circle and then walk down the mountain. I could see the magic happening, I even felt pretty proud of it all, but I was still on the periphery—not fully able to immerse myself in it because of all the other things on my brain of tasks to do and the evening to manage.

That’s not to say that there weren’t other good moments this summer. When I could get out of the office and spend time with campers, things felt good. I spent time in the tree canopy and did a few pickling workshops, got out for a couple games of frisbee, ponded when I could, and went on some evening walks. I spent a lot of time laughing about things with my fellow Leader Ladies too—this summer would have been a different beast if not for the amazing working dynamic we formed. We consistently were on the same page and had the same thoughts about priorities throughout the day, which to us really emphasized how incredible it was that we all were trained/ raised by Vini to know exactly how to approach the various situations that occur at camp.

I do feel really proud that we made it through this summer. The first Cove summer without Vini and during Covid was always going to be a huge and daunting hurdle, and now it is done. On the whole, we accomplished our goals:

• as many campers as possible at half capacity (achieved by 5 one-week sessions instead of 3 two-week sessions)
• as many staff working as possible (staff working less, but hiring as many people as possible)
• staff training because most staff missed a whole year of work due to Covid last summer (practice leading overnights and facilitating and teaching as much as possible, cramming all elements of a two-week session in)
• as far as we know, no Covid cases (achieved by lots of mitigation even when it felt absurd to mask in our “buildings” that barely even have walls)

So there's your mostly surface-level update on how summer was. Of course each day was full of small fires to put out and ridiculous events that are all a blur now, and I didn't have a moment to journal so they will forever be a blur or live on in the few postcards I managed to write during those two months. Now to answer: What's next? Prepping for Fall school groups (they start in less than two weeks), sleeping as much as possible, catching up with people by mail or by phone, maybe looking for a new car, and slightly dreading my 30th birthday coming up this month. I also just signed a contract for another year as Interim Director along with Jennifer. So, the Cove will be my home for the time being. In the winter I hope to bounce around and work remotely, so hit me up if you have any house-sitting, sub-letting, and especially dog-sitting needs!

Ok, the end. I have achieved three whole blog posts this year, so that's a success! Heck maybe I'll squeeze in another with some nice Fall tales, but no promises!

The seasons they are a changin'

Yet another transition time, and even though I’ve done it now dozens of times, it never stops feeling weird. I usually take my sweet time packing up, and leave all my room decorations up to the very end to keep my home intact for as long as I can before I become transient once more. I lingered in Texas for three whole weeks after I stopped working— it was quite good to have an extended time of relaxing and saying my goodbyes and focusing on the community at base for one last hurrah of trail mail and community dinners.

The different thing this time is that I left a place that I’ve been working at for two years (seasonally, but still it counts), and am going to a place that I’ve known for most of my life. And for context in case you think two years is short… that’s the longest I’ve been in a place since my sophomore year of college in 2011. So wow, yeah, the place I’ve spent the most time at in ten years!! Had to type that out to fully realize that! But now I've been gone for 2+ weeks, and I feel Very far away from my desert home. I'm whirling around DC, bouncing from cherry blossom viewings to walks with friends to many reference calls to tackling e-mails to finally meeting up with my team of fellow camp director people in person, not on zoom. I'm trying to take in only a few items from my car, because in a couple days I'll be in WV, moving into a cabin for the Spring, and settling into my busy busy life of prepping the facilities, planting the garden, and ya know, planning for a full spring and summer of school groups and camp.

    

So I'll head to a place that is most familiar to me, doing a job that is semi-familiar to me, working to build community again, and processing what is sure to be a lot of varied emotions. I cried last week on the road as feelings caught up to me. The closer I got to The Cove on my road trip, the more started to feel these waves of emotion that hit every couple of days. Sometimes they’re anxious heart flutters, full of worry about this big new job and all the pressures that come with it. Sometimes I'm just hit by the unfairness and sadness of Vini’s death. And sometimes I think I should feel emotions and feel nothing at all. I’ve been picturing driving by the garden and then by the crop circle and croquet lawn and then to the dorms, feeling the excitement of entering the Cove, and then backing up down the driveway to unload, and looking expectedly towards the lodge, smelling that familiar lodge smell, and… not seeing Vini. I am dreading that. It could be a rough transition from the stat of denial I’ve been in these last few months, to having to face the reality that no, Vini isn’t just working in her garden until dark, she’s just not there. 

And at the same time, she will be there. Every single thing will have her handwriting on it, every google doc has her snarky notes, the garden will certainly have her presence, as will the swim dock and the croquet lawn at golden hour. I’ll hang up my own decorations on the wall of the Phoebe’s Nest, my collection of memorabilia from loved ones that I won’t take down until the moment before I leave the Cove in late Fall. I’ll hear Vini’s voice muttering about how she *still* hasn’t had time to put up her decorations and it’s already May goddammit. I’m hoping after the initial shock of reality hits me, I’ll be hit more often by pleasant recollections, a faint buzzing among my breakfast dishes.