The Nob

Why is it that suddenly I cannot think of a thing to say? This never happens to me.

It must be blogger's-block.

Well, I will get past this blogger's block by focusing on the upcoming Memorial Day weekend--- when we will head out to the Nob (our camp), for the first time this year. Well, actually, it will be the second time; we were out there last weekend to see how some repairs were coming along, but we were only there for the day and, so, I won't count it as a "stay."

While I have a lot to do before we head out, my mind drifts repeatedly to all that I love about the Nob.

I cannot wait to hear the song of the bullfrogs in the late evening and early morning; I cannot wait to sip coffee on the deck overlooking the bunkhouse and the hills of Brooktondale. I cannot wait to hear the kids whispering ghost stories and daring each other to run down to the bunkhouse and back once darkness has settled in.

Of course, it has changed over the years. When I was little, we didn't have a bathroom; rather, we had an outhouse, which, by the way, I was terrified to use at nighttime. Perhaps, it had something to do with the "jump out of the bushes" scaring that went on anytime I had to run down the hill to use it? But this certainly isn't the biggest change.

Family changes, too. The Nob belonged to Perry and Claire, my grandparents. Their pictures are clipped to the wishing well in the woods, where one by one, we spread their ashes. But I don't need to walk out to the wishing well to see them. They are all around me when I am there. They are in the unusual color of  the walls, the painted and stenciled steps that lead upstairs, the simple artwork and leopard-print covered cushions adorning the wooden sofa. They are in the wind that whispers through the trees; their voices, now a part of the song the bullfrogs sing.

I miss them most when I am there, but, this is also when I feel closest to them.


I often believe that I can still smell Papa Perry's cigar when I am on the patio or hear Claire singing in the livingroom. And, I am always slighlty surprised not to find any lemonade-tea with fresh mint leaves in the refrigerator when I open it. But I am okay with this because Perry and Claire are still there in so many other ways.

I love that the girls, like me, have been able to enjoy the serenity and beauty of the Nob throughout their childhood and, even now, as they head into adulthood. I often wonder if, one day, they will be bringing their own children out to enjoy it and I find myself hoping that they will always find me there-- even if it's just in the whisper of the wind through the trees and the song of the bullfrogs.