We’re off to Feather River Family Camp tomorrow.
It’s possible that family camps are unique to California. If that’s true, then here’s a little bit about them: During the Depression, cities in northern California acquired land in the Sierra, did a little bit of clearing, and put up simple tent cabins (the ones we’ve stayed in have wooden floors and canvas sides), and a central dining hall. And then they opened them up for nature-starved residents. Family camps are almost always sited on rivers, so people can swim. They’re not terribly expensive. Berkeley has one — so do San Jose and San Francisco. The University of California sponsors one too.
We’ve been to several of these camps in our time. I’ve complained a lot in the past about the dust and having to eat at a communal table on picnic benches. But the boys and my husband love being at Family Camp. And so we usually go. Family Camp is a little like labor — the memory of just how bad it was leaves you (you remember you didn’t like it, but there’s no way you can dredge up the specifics of that feeling) until you return. I digress. We go because it is good for everyone to go.
This year, we’re going to a new camp: Feather River. My Thursday night writing group instructor, the wonderful Clive Matson, holds a writing workshop this week at Feather River Family Camp. I’ve never done anything productive at family camp before, beyond sweeping the floor and playing ping pong. Complaining doesn’t count. It is not productive. This week, it’s possible that I’ll get a lot of writing done. I think there’s an internet connection in the nearest town — Quincy — and I might post a few pictures. But if there’s a silence at BlogLily until Thursday, it’s because, well, that didn’t happen. Happy Camping.
Oh, and PS — Saturday Morning Blogroll is up at Best Blog. It features a very nice site called A Fool and His Words are Soon Parted. The day before, I posted about another wonderful site, by a watercolor artist, Jana. If you’re hanging out at home and scrolling around, take a look.