I Believe in Magic- a Story of Camp

One of the most wonderful things about summer for me is that I have a fabulous camp tent tucked away under a large pine tree behind my house in Vermont.  This small oasis brings me untold pleasure.  I have pondered how such a simple thing could be so powerful and yesterday while lolling about, reading a book, I figured it out.  On the tent fly above my head was a drawing and a caption over the drawing.  The caption reads - The Tent of Magic.   This drawing was created on this tent fly during the summer of 2002.  My tent platform was constructed by my very handy husband and son and the tent fly came from the summer camp where I have spent many blissful summers as both a camper and later a counselor.  One theory about the utter joy that my tent brings me is that it recalls for me so many moments of simple happiness and pleasure.  Campers at my camp spend an hour every day during "Rest Hour" relaxing in their tent with their tent family.  This family consists of three campers and one counselor.  Campers are often busy during rest hour, writing letters home or reading a book, maybe playing a quiet game of cards.   The counselor,  often takes the opportunity to actually nap.  I, by the way, in my many summers as a counselor had perfected this.  I would hit the cot and the pillow and be out for a solid hour.  What a fabulous concept.  Rest Hour.

But back to the magic.  Is there something magical about what happens at camp?  I believe there is. There are several stories that back up this claim. After many summers heading the performing arts department, I was asked to be the head of the nature department at camp.  This was certainly going to be a different gig.  No boisterous singing and playmaking but something quite different.  I was affectionately referred to as Mother Nature.   I was, after all, a Mother at that point with both of my kids at camp with me.  It seemed to fit.  There were two things that happened that summer that made me feel that there was truly something magical going on.  The first was when, with a group of kids, we created a small pond in the front of the nature hut.  We found an old white enamel bowl and dug a hole in the ground where we placed the bowl.  Then we got busy planting some plants around the edge of the pond.  We found some small rocks that we put around the edge and even harvested a lily pad or two from the lake to put into our mini pond.  (I'm not sure if you're actually supposed to do that but we were in the making magic business so we figured we were safe).  We filled the bowl with water.  I think we actually got real lake water for our pond, not just out of the faucet.  And then we sat on the ground and admired our handiwork.  

The next morning, before breakfast, I came down from my cabin quite early. This time of day is one of the most magical times at camp as the mist is rising from the lake and there are "fairy handkerchiefs" dotting the green grass of the playing field. These are wispy little webs that cover the field on dewy mornings.   It was very quiet and peaceful as others had not yet come down for breakfast.  Imagine my surprise when I arrived at our newly constructed pond and there, sitting on one of our little rocks on the edge of our pond, was a very happy looking little frog.  I was beside myself.  It was as if we created a spot for him and he just simply moved right in.  You can only imagine the delight we all felt.

The next incident took place not long after my frog arrived.  There is very special place at camp called Rainbow's End which is up on a hillside in the woods.  Every Sunday night throughout the summer, the entire camp hikes up to spend a very peaceful and quiet time in this beautiful spot.  There is singing and there is storytelling. At the end of the evening, all of the campers walk down the hillside to return to their tents.  This particular night I was bringing up the rear with another counselor and we heard the most startling noise in the trees.  It turns out that it was a pair of red-tailed hawks, high up in the trees, doing some kind of a flirtatious, swooping dance together.  It was unlike anything I had ever seen.  My fellow counselor and I felt incredibly lucky to have been there at just the right moment to see it happen.

So several days later, still reveling in what we had seen, I decided that I would take a chance and organize a "hawk walk" and return to the spot where we had seen them before.  It was going to be a different time of day but we were ever hopeful.  So off we went, hiking up the trail to the spot.  There were only 3 or 4 kids who signed up for this activity.  Apparently hawk walking doesn't quite hold up to rehearsing for the play or sailing or arts and crafts.  Nonetheless, my stalwart nature girls and I set off on our adventure. We walked, we stopped and we waited, we walked a bit further and stopped again and we waited.  I might even have tried to imitate the calls that we had heard the night we had seen the two birds.  But I am no expert and there was not a sound from the tree canopy above.  We spent a good 30 minutes out on that trail.  The kids were very disappointed as I had implied from the name of the activity that we were actually going to see a hawk.  So dejected and disappointed, we began to return to camp.  I had clearly lost my cachet as Mother Nature.  Would I ever recover?

As I pondered this question, we rounded the bend on the road through the woods that would take us back to camp and we heard it.  It was the same screech we had heard before.  We stopped dead in our tracks and waited.  Sure enough, the two hawks began their ritual again and we were there to see it.  The kids were thrilled as was I.  I had redeemed myself as Mother Nature and felt that surely there was something truly magical going on.  It was the last time anyone at camp that summer saw or heard from the pair of hawks.  We just happened to be at the right place at the right time- twice!

There is a sign at the end of my driveway now with a wooden cut-out of a camper in her green shorts and white shirt waving.  The sign says "Honk If You're Going To Hive". We put this sign up in June every year to welcome the counselors and the families who are driving by to drop off their kids at camp.  It gives me such pleasure to hear the honks every day as these lucky kids and young adults drive by on their way to this special place.  I am overcome with pangs every summer at this time with the yearning to be there, to be part of the warm and wonderful community, to be outdoors, to make new friends, to sing my heart out.

I don't think the tent in my backyard or the camp down the road have a corner on making magic, but wherever you find your magic,  I recommend you spend as much time there as you possibly can.  And on those lazy days of summer, think of me enjoying my rest hour in the Tent of Magic.