Spring is finally starting here in the woods, and the campground crew (Mr. and Mrs. Campground and Family) are still working hard as if hoards of people will pull up any minute and demand perfectly manicured campsites and activity centers.
Well, with the small crew here nothing’s perfectly manicured, but sites are being upgraded, grass is being cut, signs are going up, and new buildings are still being worked on.
Here’s the field in front of the Airstream (it’s out of the shot to the top right), covered in frost yesterday morning. This is where Banj and Tracy see deer on their nightly walks and where I pace around while I talk on the phone (I get better cell reception out here).
Mr. Campground spent all afternoon and evening a couple of days ago cutting the grass in this field, which we’re thankful for because ticks are everywhere already. Tracy is host to several each day because he spends a lot of time in the woods off the trail looking for mushrooms and identifying new plants, and, thanks to my reckless flick of a tick into the toilet and missing, there’s one MIA in the Airstream right now. *shiver*
After those storms that raged through the southeast a few days ago (tornadoes hit a friend’s neighborhood in Tennessee, badly; her house was spared but she’s still without electricity—what tragic timing for everyone involved), for us, we had minor flooding but enough to keep us from walking our regular route.
That sign above is right where we cross the drainage creek from the lake into the woods, and the crossing’s been covered with water.
But the crew’s still working, even on this bathroom house, which makes me grateful we’re not camped right beside it. Come to think of it, there are two big fifth-wheels parked right there that seem to be occupied by guys from a construction company: maybe they’re the ones building this? The red tin roof is impressive.
I’d like to tell stories about what I’ve observed and guess re: the guys who are being housed here while they work nearby job sites, about the seasonal campers who are here already (oddly; isn’t it early for that? Grannie Di and your She Shack, I’m talking about you), and about the folks who live and work here, but I’m acutely aware that this is a public blog.
Anyone could find it and feel like I’ve encroached on their privacy, so mum’s the word on the Trump flag depicting him as the bringer of the apocalypse and on the invitation to a hootin’ and hollerin’ cornhole party. I’ve observed so many schedules and so much personal trash dumped, and yet I’m sure people have been watching us, too, and could make up quite a few stories on our end.
Little House Update
The campground crew just successfully moved the tiny house that Daughter Campground Owner bought and has been prepping each evening next to us. They dug holes for the foundation and brought in a concrete truck to fill them, then spent a day and a ton of people standing around giving advice to hitch that sucker up to a truck and tow it over to the prepped site.
They’ve done this job before; we know they have because there are other campground models in other sites. But they do so with the tools they have at hand and, according to my eavesdropping, kind of by the seat of their pants.
Notice in the photo right above how they’ve chained one corner to a tree to keep it from falling over until they can get it onto the foundation. How they’ll get it off the trailer I have no idea … maybe they just take the tires off and lower the trailer onto the foundation? I’m looking forward to this.
Keeping Occupied Update
While about 10 people were standing around giving advice to Mr. Campground owner on a tractor, a backhoe, and a truck as he moved that house, I was doing yoga outside the trailer just a few yards away.
I was absurdly conspicuous and really wanted to stop and just walk over there and stand around with them, but they might not have appreciated that, so I exchanged a few words with the friendly Campground Owner Daughter and then kept on yoga-ing and eavesdropping and smiling in their direction idiotically.
The whole exercise-each-day plan is tricky here, since we’re not doing any serious hiking or any kayaking or biking at all, so when the weather’s bad I do yoga inside, and when it’s good I do one of several workouts I have saved on my phone (and on paper!), right in front of the Airstream.
Of course everyone drives by and waves when they’re dropping off trash at the dumpster and I feel like a city-fied fool, but we already stand out like a sore thumb with the only Airstream in the place, so I might as well wave my fancy-pants flag high and do yoga by the dumpster, as well. At least I don’t have matchy-poo yoga clothes.
We’ve also been playing cards, trying various board games (we gave away the ones we love before we left thinking we don’t have room for them, but during this lockdown I can make room for all kinds of stuff).
The bummer about doing something like a board game or a puzzle right now is that the weather is too inconsistent outside to set it up out there where we could leave it overnight, as we’ve done in the past when camping with the Frolic (above).
So we have to play inside, and the only spot is the kitchen table, which we use for eating, computering, doing paperwork, storage—basically everything that’s not sleeping or letting Banjo take over the sofa.
We’re still figuring out what fits this criteria of only one night’s worth of play, but I’ll give you a pro tip: do not buy the Buffy the Vampire Slayer board game. It lacks all the humor of the show and the great character details. You just kill the baddies with boring cards, which is no fun at all.
We’re starting a board game based on the Expanse book series soon, plus Tracy set us up with a work-around so we can bypass the campground internet block on YouTube (wtf?). Related is that we might now be able to watch a show filmed in Spain that suddenly disappeared from Netflix while we were in the middle of it ages ago (has anyone seen Ministerio del Tiempo? It’s excellent.). We’ll see—a lot of what we do here is finding ways around limitations.
Banjo has bumped the beaver up on her list of interesting items, above the lizard, even.
I’ve been letting her stand by the lodge and watch and sniff around because it gives her something to do and me time to look out at the lake, but one morning, after a really long stare down at the lodge, she pounced on it and shoved her head in it.
I shouted and pulled her back, but apparently the beaver actually had been up near the surface, because there was immediate shuffling around and then bubbles leading out and into the lake.
Bummer. No more staring intently at the beaver lodge, Banjo!
I think city life and our previous house, with few low windows for her to look out, just did not suit Banjo, but she didn’t let on.
“Now, this is more like it,” I’m sure she’s thinking.
Although she’ll take the sofa as well as the outside time. Here she’s helping Tracy grind his morning coffee. Good girl, Banjo.