I love barns. Not only is there history in them, but they are all different. It's like the different personalities at camp, the different horses, different techniques but they all have a grand purpose.
The first barn I went to was up with the horses. This barn was more of a stable. I hadn't been up to the stables and tacked a horse since my last year as a camper in 1986. The staff needed help that morning, so I came dressed at breakfast with my jeans on and overly eager to help.
By 2011, all my favorite horses had gone on to horse heaven: Idaho, Governor, Cyclone, Red, Black Nuisance, Mr. Ed, Baby, & Boise. Now they were replaced by others such as Juniper, Marley, Sassafras, Little Bud & some others I didn't get a chance to love on. But what a familiar site as I swung open the gate and entered horse heaven.
All the familiar stalls were there. Some had hay in the feed area. The tack room was open and there were the English saddles, saddle blankets, halters, reins, extra stirrups, extra girths, horse shoe picks, curry combs, brushes, & fly wipe. There was even an outhouse yards from the stables. I felt I was at home again.
I was just in time to tack two horses. I put the halter on first, led the horse out of the stall, secured him, and got to work brushing and talking to him. What a warm, solid and sweet smelling animal. I'm not sure how many hands tall the two I tacked were, but for the former campers, I'd say they were each about the side of Boise. Stroke, brush, stroke, brush, love on, brushing down the legs, then trying not to act scared keeping a stiff arm on the hind quarter as I walked around the back of her. I never got kicked today, but you know how it is when you've seen a horse kick. Sometimes it's because of a horsefly bite or their snappy personality. But these horses were well mannered, until it became time to tighten "the girth"!
The sight of the saddle made one squint her eyes, lay her ears back, and move away from me. I tried to outsmart her, but one of the staff members came to my rescue and volunteered to get the saddle on. And so she did. Picking hooves was much more pleasant. And if horses could smile and say thank you, they sure did when the fly wipe was applied.
This was a morning of doing yet another activity that I used to do growing up. Because my time was so short this summer, only 9 days filling in for someone, I really made the most of trying to do things I did the first 20 years of my life. It wasn't only tacking horses, it was also playing volleyball, playing tether ball, swimming laps in the lake, racing in a canoe, skulling in a canoe, landing in a canoe, camping out, sleeping on the ground without any padding, showering in the outdoor pee wee showers, visiting familiar spots at camp, and living to tell about it.
Barn number two came later in the day. It was a favorite at the D&M. It was another opportunity to go on an overnight camp out with the Sunshine Gang. I wasn't going to pass up another opportunity to capture my youth. I was living in the moment! And so it was, I was off with 14 campers and 5 other staff. I made it an even 20.
The D&M grounds are now more open because the large apple trees died out years ago and were removed. The outhouse is sturdier and nicer. The lodge is still solid and standing. And the barn still stands on the right as you enter through the gates. (To see footage of the site, please go to YouTube and type in D&M campsite.) It was always a fun place to have a picture in front of or to hide in when playing games in the field.
Once we all arrived at the site, it was off to gather wood. Isn't always the campers' job to find kindling, logs and hot dog sticks? We let the kids get a ten minute head start, then we followed. They were all searching diligently for twigs and putting enough in their hands that was equivalent to a Sunday newspaper. Hot dog sticks were out of the question because the good, long, strong ones were higher up. But it was fortunate for me that I got to be their hero for a few minutes because I brought the machete again and started chopping them out of the trees. That's when I got the idea to see who wanted to learn to use a machete properly. It was a skill I was taught at their age and it made me a responsible user from that point on.
I announced that anyone who wanted to try the machete was welcome to try chopping some of the green hot dog sticks I'd found. We'd practice cutting the small branches off. Each camper that wanted a try received instruction on the danger zone (making sure no one was within their swing area), proper hand placement when holding the branch, proper handling of the machete and off they went. Some chopped with a soft swing while others chopped like they were going to chop a snake's head off. It was a super confidence building and camp skill builder as well. And to add to anyone who wanted a challenge, I marked the sticks with a line that they had to hit for accuracy. Several did that easily. From there, we moved on to the thicker pieces of dead wood which I had them chop and turn, chop and turn. Achieving that meant one last skill...chopping that dead wood in under 2 minutes. Our champ cut it in 1:30. That's when we called it quits.
I truly hope that these young campers will be able to add this to their camp summary when they get home. (And I hope no parent squashes their enthusiasm for playing with big knives.) This is what camp is all about--stepping out, trying new things, testing the boundaries, surrounding yourself with great friends, and making memories that will truly last a lifetime. People outside our camp world may hear about it, but when relived among campers, it comes back to life.
That is what the last week filling in a camp has been for me. Every cabin I look at, every path my feet touch, the bed I sleep on, the songs sung in the dining hall, dropping the mail in the wooden mailbox, ringing the aide bell, checking in for free swim, hoping nobody walks in on you at the Freds, and slipping on the slick grass after sunset at the volleyball courts, are all ways my mind and heart were zapped back into the good 'ole days. It's been soup for my soul returning. Thank you, Miss Dollie, for your vision of this girls' summer camp in Monterey, Tennessee. There is no other place like it. (I am now crying.)
