I heard she thought she wasn’t pretty
I heard she thought she didn’t fit in
She thought she was different.
We went to the woods
We breathed the air
Supported by the earth under our feet
We laughed
We created
She is beautiful
She is unique
She is strong
The experience
The photographs
I showed her how perfect she is
She celebrates
It takes an endless amount of history
to make even a little tradition.
-Henry James
I dropped an envelope into the mailbox the other day.
That envelope carried almost 70 years of history inside.
The envelope contained my son’s signed contract for a summer job at a camp. Not just any camp, at “The Greatest Camp in the Universe.”
Poko MacCready Camp where the sun is always shining…
After turning into the camp road, winding down the rutted driveway, a glimpse of the pond between the trees, it takes only a few moments to allow the memories to fill every part of my soul as I step into the parking lot and smell the pines. Immediately refreshed.
I wonder if that’s how my dad felt when he first arrived at Camp Poko Moonshine so many years ago. My dad and his brother worked summers at camp leading hikes in the beautiful Adirondack Mountains of New York State. Fresh air and sunshine in their blood, Adirondack mud on their shoes.
Magic.
Over the years, my brother, cousins and I have participated at Poko MacCready as campers and counselors. My cousins favored the horses, I loved the swim dock. It was the best opportunity to learn what you’re capable of – lessons sometimes realized years later. Planted so deeply was a sense of family and belonging.
Soon I was packing hiking boots, t-shirts and bug spray and dropping my own kids off at Poko MacCready. It always feels like home to walk the path again. Nostalgia consumes me when I enter the dining hall with the huge stone fireplace knowing my dad had spent time right there. How could he have known he was starting a tradition? My cousin and I have become friends, hiking in the Adirondack Mountains together, our fair share of gratitude, mud on our shoes and balsam scent in our lungs. My son and my cousin’s son will become third generation counselors this summer. The envelope is in the mailbox!
http://www.pokomac.com
Celebrating its 110th season this summer!
‘No one has ever become poor from giving’
~Maya Angelou
Thanksgiving Day in the USA.
Grateful for friends who listen & hug, laugh and celebrate.
The simple process of focusing on things
that are normally taken for granted
is a powerful source of
creativity.
~Edward deBono
My soul honors your soul.
I honor the place in you where
the entire universe resides.
I honor the light, love, truth,
beauty & peace within you,
because it is also within me.
In sharing these things
we are united, we are the same,
we are one.
‘Start where you are.
Use what you have.
Do what you can.’
~Arthur Ashe
The earth is art.
The photographer is only a witness.
~Yann Arthus-Bertrand
Optimism
The belief that everything is beautiful, including what is ugly~
Ambrose Bierce
I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people.
I thought “this is what it is to be happy”
~Sylvia Plath
A sense of community is a powerful feeling.
I could imagine it might grow old, having people around you all the time, who have known you your entire life. When I have the wonderful, yet rare moments to share the present with people who have known me as a child and have watched me grow it feels very much like home.
Our parents laughed, cried and created memories together during a lifetime of summers. Carving out a legacy. Several of us, reunited over the years, carry on the legacy and nurture the bond of a passing generation. Exchanges and laughter, updates and photos keep us current in each other’s lives.
Sometimes I walk down the dirt road, as I have thousands of times in my life, and hum the theme song from the TV show “Cheers”. I relate to “where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came”.
My sense of community~
Value Cherish Honor Enjoy Home
I just can’t stop!
Looking back, It might be the way the early morning sun made the petals come alive that had me running for my camera. Maybe it was the afternoon shade that made me look again, closer.
I wanted to climb each layer of the pink peony petals and dive into the center of the white peony and swim. It looked like it might be whipped cream lightness (the way I think jumping onto the tops of the clouds from an airplane would be). (I’m the only person who thinks that might be fun…?)
When I see a blossom so beautiful in nature, I just can’t stop myself from shooting endlessly. The ones with imperfect petals stand proud of their uniqueness. They’re my favorite. Perhaps if I can hold it still for a moment, it could last forever.
Nature. Perfect. Gorgeous.
Wendy Andrews 