7:15 a.m. – I was sitting in my camp chair at Hamburg State Park in Mitchell, Georgia wrapped in a white fleece blanket, drinking black coffee from my favorite oversized Snoopy Halloween mug. 64 degrees of hot flash heaven! The smoke from the neighbor’s fire last night was still rising in spiral-y wisps from the pit, scenting the air of burnt wood. My clothes didn’t match today, and I didn’t care – floral shirts and a tie dye t-shirt. I had a bad hair day, too, and that was fine with me. And no makeup to top it all off.
8:00 a.m. – Across the lake, I spied a lone angler in a jon boat, fishing the uninhabited wilderness island shoreline in his sun hat. Hamburg State Park is said to be the most remote of all Georgia State Parks, and forgetting the WiFi hotspot was at first disappointing, but then it wasn’t. My husband had found himself a Harlan Coben book in the Little Free Library, and I’d done some reading and writing, too. But at that moment, he was still snug in the camper, wedged in like tire chocks by 3 snoozing Schnoodles who like to be cozy in the covers.
8:30 a.m. – In the far distance, I heard the boom of gunfire and my heart wept for the doves losing lives and mates. Dove hunting season just opened in Georgia. Don’t even get me started.
9:15 a.m. – A middle-aged woman wearing a mid-calf navy skirt, a gray sweatshirt, and a pair of laceless Keds that reminded me of my grandmother’s Grasshoppers walked a slow-moving Border Collie mix along the camp drive, neither in a hurry to be anywhere. A bald man on a white e-Bike sped past, then a man on a regular bike, turquoise with a basket, eased by and tossed a morning greeting hand in the air, smiling big like the fresh air exhilarated him from the inside out. I smiled and waved back.
9:30 a.m. – We had one of those neighbors this time – you know, the kind with the voice that carries all through the campground, informing everyone across all 30 campsites of her daughter’s Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, the current plight of her own insurance woes, and a cousin’s wedding episodes of family members who didn’t get along ruining the day. It takes a good bit to really get on my nerves, but I came very close to standing up and shouting FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS PEACEFUL, WILL YOU P L E A S E STOP TALKING???? Her husband kept taking the dog for a walk – a little dachshund puppy in a red sweater – telling it, “Heel, Heel.” And I didn’t blame him one bit.
9:45 a.m. – An occasional leaf turned loose from a branch and twirled to the ground from the water oaks lining the lake, and every now and then a fish broke the surface, ploonking back into the water as its silvery scales flashed a watery hello. The Blue Jays were the other loudmouths on this campground, and yet I understand their marked presence – and purpose – there with all those oaks and acorns now that I’ve read Slow Birding by Joan Strassman.
9: 50 a.m. – My husband emerged from the camper and had finished reading his book. He was ready for his typical breakfast of graham crackers and plain Chobani Greek yogurt, with coffee. I fixed my yogurt with fresh diced peaches, and we talked about the (probably) 5,000 pictures of the sunset I took (quietly) from the campsite over the weekend.
10:00 – Neither one of us wanted to leave. We were just ready to see the noisy neighbors pull out. He asked, “Is it just me, or did this trip seem a lot more relaxing than any camping trip we’ve ever taken?” I assured him it wasn’t just him – that we really did relax deeply, and that tomorrow we’d be back at work – – but that for today, we were savoring this Labor Day as we celebrate of all the workers who make our country an amazing place to live.
We raised our mugs to working hard so that we can play hard, too.
Common Threads 
Such a lovely Labor Day reflection, Kim, steeped deep in gratitude for the gifts of life. Work is one of them. We are meant for work, to feel productive. Remembering how we benefit from the work of others is something to celebrate, indeed – as is rest from our own labors. So many of your sensory images strike my innermost chords – gunshots and mourning for doves that are dying (don’t get me started on deer season coming soon, after my granddaughters and I marveled all summer over the doe and her twin fawns appearing to feed in the little clearing across the road), the occasional leaf falling (is this not poetry in itself? It is to me, every time I see it), and the DACHSHUND! Joy! I have to laugh, too, at the exasperation over “one of those neighbors” infringing on the peace. My next-door neighbor is obsessed with his lawn. He mows it EVERY. DAY. Machinery drowning out the birds, cicadas…the precious peace. Sigh. But I come away from your post feeling restored. And I hope you and your husband are as well!
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Thank you, Fran. I know you laugh along with me at that man with the dachshund, since you have one also and we have had them as well. We can see he is fighting a losing leash battle about who is really in charge.
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Indeed; it’s not even debatable, who’s in charge. Dachshunds rule. Period. E.B. White, with all of his keen insight, wrote in acknowledgement of this great truth!
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Oh, this brought me peace just reading through it! Thank you! It is starting to warm up again, here is Aussie Land. I might just take myself off next weekend for a spot of camping.
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Thank you, Kim. Please share your camping weekend if you go. I love seeing posts on camping culture. Have a great week!
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I am feeling peaceful after reading your piece! Somehow by you structuring it by time and then being so descriptive in all you were seeing and hearing and feeling worked perfectly. The added photos, video and the dialogue with your husband all work to make this such a great slice. Thanks for sharing!
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Thank you, Sally. I actually started out documenting departure times of the campers and then started doodling other observations too. I figured out that there is a camper leaving on average every seven minutes starting at 9 am and going through 11:00.
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Your camping trip looked so relaxing, which made me jealous after the full- tilt weekend Ken and I had. We would love to join you all on one of your beautiful and tranquil adventures. We promise to use our inside voices 😆
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Yes! We would love that so much!
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You make me want to camp again! My favorite part is the beginning where we see your mismatched clothes, messy hair and plain face, funny mug. That plus your husband ‘s random book from the free library. Reminds us to let go of all that and just be. Too bad about the neighbor!
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Thanks, Fran!
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Kim, wow, such lovely writing. I laughed so when I read about the man with the big voice telling all to the world.
What a wonderful image: “he was still snug in the camper, wedged in like tire chocks by 3 snoozing Schnoodles”
I noticed something in the video besides the beautiful quiet and the shiny lake; is that a pole to hang your food to keep critters from getting it?
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Thank you, Denise! Yes, that hook can be used for many things like hanging a towel to dry or a light, but we mainly use ours to hang trash up where the critters can’t get it. Good eye, friend! The state parks in Georgia have these for campers to use.
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Wonderful structure to these observations – love the timed entries…and I did laugh at “9:30am,” though I am certain you were not laughing. Oh, why must this be a ubiquitous experience? Why do we all know this feeling, this pain? How much better if we could all feel the awe at the sight of the Great Egret! (That is a lovely picture.) Your weekend of camping sounds so beautiful and peaceful. Great slice, Kim!
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Thank you, Maureen! It was peaceful – for the most part! 🤣
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Your final morning of camping sounds tranquil and downright lovely. Glad it was the kind of trip you needed!
Thanks for the gorgeous photos. 🙂
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Thank you, Stacey!
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