small packages

Good things really do come in small packages. Some of my family's favorite times ever have been in the smallest villages we've visited, including Kennecott, Alaska; and Jamaica, Vermont. This weekend, we again returned to our favorite campground in Vermont, a place we've visited often enough that we recognize more than a handful of the town's 1,000 residents. We only camped for three nights and never left the campground/village area, but I'd be hard-pressed to choose a favorite moment from the many delightful experiences there. Among them:

We oohed and aahed over fabric works of art, large and small, at the Best Little Quilt Show in Vermont.

We fished, swam, and modeled newly finished handknit socks in the gentle West River.

We laughed and cheered with the silliness that is a small town parade at the Jamaica Old Home Days festival on Saturday.

We tapped our toes along with the bluegrass band at the farmers' market along Main Street on Sunday. We chatted with the glassblowers, the local weaving/yarn shop owner, and the coffee shop folks, all of whom recognize us now.

We toasted s'mores over the campfire in the evening, the sounds of an acoustic guitar and a harmonica floating across the campground. We enjoyed sunshine and warm days while we were out and about, cool temps and downpours each night while we were dry and comfortable in our tents.

We sipped coffee brewed over the campfire in the early mornings and, while Scott scurried off to play with the fishies in the river,
I worked on the Woodland Shawl in blissful silence. Ah, exactly the balance we needed after a hectic week.