where's ann richards when I need her?

or do nothing till you hear from me: advice to young mothers (wherein I sometimes recount the madcap and typically miscellaneous adventures of our family of five as Texas-transplants)

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Anne, Elsewhere

We’re at Dad’s camp near Hampton Bays for the next several weeks. The camp was built by Dad’s grandparents, Meme and Pop, in 1955 as a weekend retreat on the water after they sold the duck farm. My Nana used to rent it out, but until this summer no one had stayed in it for about twenty years. It’s rustic and quaint and kinda great. Three bedrooms, quick access to the beach, and the best morning breezes coming up off the bay. We set up the patio today with a table, umbrella, lounge chairs, and tiki torches, and I’m very much looking forward to being out there, overlooking the pond, for the next few weeks. Camp sits on hill, alongside the water, in the midst of a stand of straight old pines. The patio faces the pond, outside the bay window. The yard is covered in dry pine needles and pine cones and the perimeter of the patio is separated from the wetlands by a low wall of slate pieces that Pop brought back from his place upstate. It’s quiet and relatively secluded. This morning, Jeff found a nearby road with little traffic on which to run or bike. Tomorrow we’ll take Dad’s little dingy, we plan on christening her The Linda Lee, out of the pond and up around the bend to the beach on the bay for a Sunday picnic. We’ll need those bay breezes, too, because the camp has no A/C, of course. In fact, we’re lucky Dad was able to get the electric working and the water hooked up. But we have good cross ventilation going and the window fans provide a gentle white noise that sounds like summer, we’re wearing away at the musty smell of everything, I’m quickly getting used to the humidity, and I quite like the retro feeling here. From the plastic melon-colored coffee mugs, dining room painted aquamarine, and the floral slipcovers, to the yellow linoleum in the bathroom, pink china, and the plastic tablecloths, camp hasn’t changed much since 1955, aesthetically or otherwise. (S & B, I’ll take good photos for TMC.) Of course it could use some rendering and a touch or two of paint, perhaps some new rugs, but we’ve got it quite spruced up and, all in all, it’s really rather perfect for us. I’m eager to walk around the pond at night trying to discern the constellations.

Notes

  1. annehalsey posted this
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