Today, we send our kids to camp in the summer, either day camp or sleepover camp. In the 19th century, the whole family attended camp meeting together. The first camp meetings, as they were called, were held on land purchased by a church or a generous donor. Families either rented or bought small plots of land, just big enough to erect a generous sized tent where everyone could live—along with the mosquitos and other bugs—for the duration of camp meeting. Eventually, those families sought permission to build a more permanent structure on their tent site, and camp meeting communities evolved into what today are still highly sought after vacation communities.
My first visit to a camp community was when I was invited to teach for a week at Craigville Conference Center on Cape Cod. I immediately fell in love with the collection of homes and other buildings. A grand open-sided structure, called the Tabernacle, sits on a hill overlooking the village green where once a post office was the gathering place for residents and visitors.
That post office now is a gift shop, but still provides a bulletin board with member information. The once simple tents have become adorable Gothic-style cottages or large vacation homes, where the original footprint of the tent-sized house has been augmented by expansive construction.
Craigville was built on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and the views remain glorious as the sun sets over the marshes surrounding it.
There are several other camp meeting communities in Massachusetts, including another Cape Cod one that was built in Yarmouth (near Hyannis) and one on Martha’s Vineyard. My husband and I chanced upon another community last fall, this one named Rustic Ridge in western Massachusetts. Again, I fell in love with the architecture and the sense of community, though the place was nearly deserted as the summer people had already moved back to their permanent homes around the country.
Rustic Ridge is in the town of Northfield, MA,
the only town that abuts both Vermont and New Hampshire as it straddles the Connecticut River. Northfield is the birthplace of Dwight L. Moody, the evangelist and publisher who drew hundreds to his lectures in the late 19th century. He considered education an important part of his work, and he founded schools for both boys and girls in his home town. He also invited ministers to attend a summer gathering where they could learn from one another, starting in 1880. The small town and the schools couldn’t provide all the housing necessary, so families camped on the steep sides of the hill overlooking the girls’ school. By 1901, the first house was built on what became known as Rustic Ridge.
Others quickly followed, all of them purchased by visiting ministers and business people looking for a quiet place for the summer for recreation and reflection. The descendants of some of those original purchasers still live on the Ridge (as it’s affectionately known).
In the future, I hope to be able to visit Rehoboth Beach in Delaware where there was also a camp meeting association as well as Ocean Grove, NJ. I’m sure there are plenty of others I’ve never heard of, so if you know of one, share please! Each place has its own unique history and wonderful architecture. In the northeast, some are near the beach, others in the mountains, but all are testaments to families who came together to worship and enjoy the summer together...along with all those pesky mosquitos!
As I'm writing this, it's summer solstice and the strawberry full moon. Apparently it's rare for the two to coincide. In fact, according to Snopes.com, "The last time these two phenomena occurred together was at the beginning
of 1967's Summer of Love, and it won't happen again until 2062."
So I hope you looked up and enjoyed!
There are different explanations for this full moon being called the strawberry moon. I read one scientific explanation that claimed the moon has a more amber glow because it is so low in the sky so the light passing through the atmosphere is different.
The explanation I've always heard here in New York is that it was the name used by the Algonquians to mark the full moon that appeared as the strawberries were ripening. I sure have been enjoying the fresh strawberries from the farmer's market.
So, you might wonder where I'm going with all this....
Well for me, this week marks not only Summer Solstice and Strawberry Moon, but also the beginning of that glorious period known as summer vacation. (I know a lot of schools have been out for some time already, but we go late here in the northeast).
I truly love teaching, but I savor these summer days when I get to swap my teacher cap for my keyboard and my writing playlists.
Do you have writing playlists?
I love them for a couple of reasons.
~ When I start up the playlist (if it's carefully chosen) I'm smack in the middle of my story world.
~ I fill the playlists with songs I love to listen to, so listening is an incentive to get those fingers on the keyboard.
~ Something about the music helps me to zone out. There are times I want to sing along, but that's only until I get lost in what I'm writing.
So, I thought I would give you some fun music and a glimpse into some of my playlists.
If you use playlists, I'd love to hear what's on your favorite or current one.
1. How Great Thou Art (The Voice edition) Every playlist includes this song. It was the lead song in my playlist for Christmas in Hiding because the main character loved to sing the song. It filled me with such courage and purpose when I was writing that I have included it on every playlist since.
2. Fight Song is the lead song on the playlist for the LIS I'm currently writing. The heroine has had a tough time of it and this is her theme song.
3. I love country music, and this song (Timing is Everything) from the movie Country Strong works perfectly for the way my hero and heroine meet. (The version on my playlist is a little more uptempo than this version.)
4. Matt Hammitt's All of Me sums up the struggle in this love story.
5. And then there's the hero's brother. The perfect Desperado. His story is up next.
6. But the song that is absolutely perfect for Desperado Dylan is this one - I Know How to Love You Now.
Can you see why I'm looking forward to summer? I get to spend it with my fabulous characters and these awesome songs.
So what are you up to this summer? Do you have any good tunes playing?
Having grown up
half a block from the beach, nothing says “summer” like the beach. As a kid, my
brother and sister and I ran down the gravel road barefoot so we could drop our
towels on the sand and splash into the water. The last one in was chicken! We
didn’t care if the water was cold. It was just plain fun. Here’s a photo of our
childhood beach on Lake Michigan.
These days, I’m
much more particular about the water temperature, but I still love a beach. I
enjoy walking the shore to collect stones or shells or “treasure” washed
ashore. I once found an old key and wondered what it unlocked. Unusual stones
end up in my growing collection. The ocean provides countless wonders to this
freshwater gal, whether calm or stormy.
Beach at Fort Zachary Taylor on Key West
Beach near Cape Hatteras
But sometimes I
just like to sit in the shade of an umbrella and read a good book. In my Key
West-set book with Revell, Love’s Rescue,
the shore symbolizes both her dream and all she has lost. Naturally she must go
there.
Do you have a
favorite beach? Is one on your wish list to visit? What’s your favorite thing
to do at a beach?
Ah! It's almost summer. And it definitely felt like summer when I took a short vacation from Michigan to sunny Ft. Lauderdale this
past weekend.
After my first and very long Michigan winter.....
this Southern girl needed the hot sun of Florida!
I'm one of those crazy people who loves waking up early on vacation to go outside and enjoy the weather. I had my laptop and kindle with me and used the time outside to write (under a big umbrella). It was very inspiring.
As summer quickly approaches, where will you spend your vacation? And what books are you looking forwarding to reading?
I just received the cover for my next Love Inspired Suspense, EXPERT WITNESS, due out in September. Here it is!
Christine Johnson here today to talk
about roads. That might not sound terribly exciting, but roads (and paths) are an oft-used metaphor for life's journey.
Long ago when I was in school,
one of my favorite poems was Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” I loved the
imagery of the fork in the road and the choice of which path to take—well-trodden
or less traveled. How easy to take the interstate expressway, yet by doing so
we miss the treasures found on narrow byways.
Sometimes the road or path might seem frightening. Here I am hiking high above the
road in Glacier National Park…and thinking that the road might have been the
better option!
Back in the 1920s, there were no
expressways. Most roads were dirt or gravel and heavily rutted. Car tires blew
out frequently. Carrying spares was a necessity. I can’t recall the last time I
checked my spare, least of all used it. Lumber states, like Michigan in its
early years, sometimes paved roads with slabs of wood so wagons and buggies
wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. Some of those survived into the twentieth
century. I can imagine the teeth-chattering washboard effect of driving on slab
wood. The hero and heroine in my upcoming release, Suitor by Design, end up on one of those old roads under the worst
of circumstances.
I still enjoy a scenic road. I
love the possibilities around each bend or at each fork. During this summer’s trip to Mt.
Rainier National Park, we found this wood suspension bridge at Longmire. My
husband and I walked across the bridge, which was only wide enough for one car
to cross at a time.
What interesting byways have you
found in your travels? Do you have a favorite drive or bridge? Which fork in
the road did you choose, and where did it lead you?
I have a confession to make. I love historical markers and monuments,
especially those big placards that tell what happened to make a site
important. I’ve been known to veer off the highway when I see one.
Summer is the time of year when I
break out my Passport (to the U.S. National Parks) and set off in search of
history.
At every U.S. national park
(or monument) visitor center, I stamp the passport as proof I visited that site. The oldest
stamp in my passport is from ten years ago. Do any of you have a National Parks
passport?
Fort Jefferson in the Dry
Tortugas is one of my favorites. This pre-Civil War era fort guarded the
Straits of Florida and famously housed Dr. Samuel Mudd, the physician who
was convicted for treating John Wilkes Booth’s broken leg after Booth shot President Abraham Lincoln.
It's also way out to sea, 70 miles from Key West, and thus one of the more difficult parks to get to. The islands are called the Dry Tortugas because there's no fresh water. Drinking water was a huge issue there!
Last summer I visited North
Carolina’s Outer Banks and Kitty Hawk where the memorial to the Wright brothers’
first flight is located. After studying aviation history for my first novel,
Soaring Home, I drank in the windswept dunes and reproduction of their plane.
This summer, I went to Glacier National Park in Montana, the setting for my third book, All Roads Lead Home. In fact, I just got back home yesterday. Those mountains in
the background are on the continental divide. Whenever I’m there, I think of
the settlers and trappers and explorers who passed through and the peoples for whom
this has long been home. Those people had fortitude!
Have you visited any historic
sites lately? What’s your favorite? I’m always looking for new and exciting
places to visit.
Kim Watters here. Well, I did it. Something I thought I'd never do. I climbed out on the clear platform of the Willis (Sears) Tower on the 103rd floor during our recent vacation to Chicago. Okay, so I was practically hyperventilating....and freaked out but I couldn't let my kids get the best of me. Unfortunately I don't have a picture that I can post to prove it because my camera died. I did shell out $32 for the pictures they took but I don't have a scanner so you'll have to use your imagination.
Here's a photo courtesy of the Willis Tower website though to give you an idea. It's giving me the shivers just looking at it.
How did I do it?
I prayed....and didn't look down!
But I did it. So next time you're in Chicago, you've got to try it. If you dare. Trust me. If this chicken can do it, so can you. Closing your eyes also works as well.
Darlings, I'm in Florida at what will sometime next year become my "retirement" home. But I can't really retire. Writers don't retire--they reload--the printer, that is. Elnora has about ten or fifteen good years left. Of course, my brain comes and goes at random these days. But I still have lots of stories to tell.
Right now, I'm sitting in an empty room, working on an old computer desk my sweet Big Daddy loaded into the old Yukon for me. This room will one day be my new office and already I have grand ideas about making this rather tiny bedroom into a massive and comfortable creative space. We are sleeping on one of those airbed mattress thing tonight. We'll see how that goes. We brought a set of wicker I've had since the last century and that is our living room for now. We have a few clothes and some flipflops. Yes, I had to bring lots of shoes, of course. But only two purses for now. We have water nearby to look at. I should be able to write here, don't you think?
But it's the renovations that will be the test. Which begs the question--if you could creat your perfect office and workspace, what would it be???? I'd love to hear your ideas!
My daughter’s favorite activity during our recent vacation was collecting seashells along the shore. A true beachcomber like her mom, she was up at the crack of dawn because that’s when the best shells are available. Also like her mom, she also doesn’t realize that vacations are meant for sleeping in, hanging out by the sea or pool and not doing much of anything.
Another perfect morning dawned as the tide ebbed in and the sun’s rays stretched across horizon, staining the sky a bright blue. We had the beach pretty much to ourselves, except for the lone jogger playing tag with the sea. Strolling through the rocks and sand, we found all kinds of fascinating shells. Some whole, most not because of years of the pounding surf. Some still had creatures inside that we had to take back and toss into the sea when they stuck their black legs out and took a stroll along our condo balcony. My personal favorites were the corkscrew shells, but most of them were still occupied and had to be left behind. My daughter’s favorite was pretty much all of them.
“Look, Mommy. I found one.” My daughter holds up half a clamshell covered with some sort of black growth.
“No, Emily. That shell is broken. Let’s throw it back.”
“But I like it. I want to keep it.” Into the bucket it goes.
“Really, darling, we can’t keep all of them. See? It’s broken and not very pretty.” I pick up a shell, shake my head and for affect, look it over, show her the flaw and throw it back into the tide pool.
“Why not? We found them.”
Good point. Score one for the seven year old.
“Because its not perfect. We need to pick and chose the best ones.”
Good point, Score one for mom.
“I don’t care. I like them all.” She picks it back up and drops it into the bucket.
Okay, maybe I’ll find a use for it after all.
This conversation with my daughter got me to thinking about the perfect shell—and the perfect word. How many times have I struggled to find the right word? Said could be written as growled, or whispered, or muttered. It all depends on what feeling I’m trying to convey. I toss around a few more options and throw the ones back that don’t seem to fit, just like the shells that don’t fit my criteria for going into the bucket.
Picking the perfect word is as important as making sure I don’t find an unexpected guest on my patio later. I have to look inside and all around, hold the shell up to the light and run my fingers around the edges. In my manuscript I have to test out the word, and see how it flows in the context of the sentence. Does it convey what I really want to say? Is it pretty? Is it the perfect word to compliment my manuscript or the perfect shell to grace my bucket?
My daughter wants to be a writer when she grows up. I sincerely hope she figures out some day that there are differences in words and shells and that not all of them are as perfect as we sometimes think they are. Sometimes it might take a few tries to get it right, but in the end we will find the perfect word and the perfect shell.
What will I do with all the shells we collected? I plan on gluing them to a picture frame and putting a family photo from our vacation inside. What will I do with all the words that simply can’t be used? Throw them back for now and let the sea of sand and time mold them into something that can be used at a later date.
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