Immortality of lake, cabin, and fire-side

Recently written by a friend (thank you again, its lovely!), this epistle describes the sojourning of Kat and her fellow adventurers. Other summarizations of the proceedings can be found with Mark, Kristi, and Drea.

The Chronicles of Nothing Else...

There's nothing else like seeing your clothes and your friends' sprinkled with tiny yellow constellations of dandelion pollen because of a flower tossing war.

There's nothing else like punting through sunken forests of mossy trees with new spring buds, with four friends in a sturdy enough little boat and pushing off marshy goose nests, just to see what's around the next corner.

There's nothing else like the delicious spooky chill you get from being out in the same boat, shiver-cold water lapping at your feet, playing a flashlight through tricky fog, trying to figure out if the human figure about twenty yards to your left is alive or not.

There's nothing else like the voice of a friend quiet in the dark, telling a story about ancient faraway people who fully lived.

There's nothing else like the shreiks of a friend who can't stand crawly things suddenly discovering that the previously well-contained crawdads on the picnic table have miraculously achieved their liberty and are beating a hasty retreat under her chair.

There's nothing else like lying in your sleeping bag and knowing that if you start singing something, anything, even Brahams's Lullaby, someone will join in harmony, and it will be beautiful, even if you mess up the words.

There's nothing else like coming in off the lake at ten-thirty in the morning, having been through the gates of Narnia and back, knowing that you have the entire rest of the day ahead of you, to a full breakfast with sausages cooked over the open fire pit.