If I told you it was the month of March with enough consistency, over and over again, this weather might be all the help I need to make you forget we’re actually in January. The rains have been so steady this week, that creeks are flowing in spots typically reserved only for Springtime. I had some time off, and I went to the large beech tree near Home-in-the Woods, whose roots hang out over the creek. I sat below it’s branches and read for a while, relaxed by the strong sound of water rushing just feet away. I looked back at this week in 2010, and we were basically getting a blizzard. If the rain continues like this into spring, the river could rise to heights that probably no one has ever seen, but we’ll hold off on apocalyptic predictions for a little while longer. For now, the sounds of the creek are quite comforting.
It was a new moon this week at camp. That is the moon that is hardly there at all. It is a dark circle in the night sky, just a slightly different color than the darkness around it. What this means for us at camp is that the stars will be even brighter than they normally are. It is the feeling you get when you clean your glasses–how everything just looks so much more defined and clear. So many stars. It looks like a dusting across the sky. The next night, there was just a tiny nail clipping of light from the moon at the bottom of it’s circumference just at the horizon early in the evening, like a grin in the sky. This week, if you’re watching at Lakeshore, you may be lullabyed by flowing rainwater, mood-lit by a dust cloud of stars you don’t normally see, or find the moon grinning at you when you need a smile the most.
The lazy river at the pool has turned a deep red color. It’s probably an algae that thrives in cold wet environments, but if you were in the right (or wrong) state of mind, you could easily see it as some kind of 10 plagues of Egypt, wrath of God style affliction to our lazy river. We already have a whole lot of frogs out there. Last year was the big cicada hatch, and I think they’re from the locust family. If we come down with boils all over our skin, we may have to look into freeing something, before things get out of hand.
A youth Leadership group from Benton County visited the camp on Wednesday to do teambuilding. We had nearly 30 high school students who got to get out of school. It rained for most of the day, so the groups stayed indoors, but I assume being trapped inside having to work with others by a drizzle is still preferable to class for most kids.
Windows can be torturous things for that reason. In those classes where your attention span loses the battle, the view outside is paradise and only a sheet of glass separates you from it. Even if you’re just staring out to a loading dock and dumpster, your mind can even make delivery trucks and trash look like pure bliss. Or you look out the window to a gray day that can’t seem to stop drizzling, and you feel like water might soak through everything–the floors, your shoes, into your skin. It doesn’t seem that it will ever be dry again. What we see through our windows depends a lot on what we’re looking for. Today, the sun is out for a change. The winter is still in control of the trees. Who knows what else I’ll find if I sit here and stare our over this big world that’s opening up in front of me? What will it say today? What will God speak to me?