August. I used to hate August. It was the time between “real” summer and my favorite season, autumn. August is when the air gets too dry and the grass too brown. Bits of dust and fluffy things float on the breeze, if there is one, and home in on my sinuses like Tomahawk missiles, only slower.
This August, I’m finding, isn’t so bad. It’s been relatively cool after the late July heat spasm (ohmigosh it’s hot in the last week of July…MUST BE global warming!). I couldn’t help but notice that no national news outlet reported the 45 degree temps we were dipping into a week later. I had to break out my Grinch jammies.
The last planned camping trip of the season happened this last weekend as well. We took our 33 footer to nearby Meyer’s Lake, a United Methodist Campground. You don’t have to be United Methodist to camp there, as they found the blood tests inaccurate. We happen to be of that denomination and can prove so by our ability to find a meeting or a pot luck in the most unlikely locations. Unfortunately, even the UM campground people can’t figure out that a 33 foot trailer actually needs somewhat more than 33 feet of space to maneuver. They probably won’t miss that signpost until I’m long forgotten.
Don’t get me wrong, I love having an RV. It’s not nearly as traumatic as Hollywood makes it out to be. Not after the first trip anyway. I’ve driven through storms, down steep grades without trailer brakes, taken out a window on a tree branch, broken off a stabilizer jack, bent all four stabilizer jacks, and have had to recall my college trig to get out of a few gas stations, but it’s worth it in the end. Builds character, so they say.
We’re home now. Something like a foot of grass on our one and half acres awaited us. Did I mention that it’s been an unusually rainy summer as well?
Next week is the official kick-off of my allergy season. I’ll have exciting news on that next week!