TO THE POINT

MCS 40 at Bill & Amy Hinkley’s Blueberry Farm in Waldoboro

As I sit at home on the couch and look out at the pouring rain, I feel I must tell a story and thank Chewonki for one thing, out of thousands, in particular. Last June, as I was taking the T home from a sailing course in Boston, I stumbled on a group of MCS grads in a bus in Porter Square. I was one of the last to board the bus and realized there were no seats left, so I stood in the aisle near five or six students. They were laughing and joking, sitting on each other’s laps, and one of the boys was wearing a Chewonki sweatshirt. At the time I had decided not to apply to Chewonki and was regretting my decision. That crowded bus ride seemed to take hours, even though it was only about eight minutes. These kids were so happy, content, and comfortable with themselves and with each other. It was a miserable ride knowing that I had a chance, despite how small, to be like these kids, and I had thrown that opportunity away just for the fear of change.

Almost a week ago we received our own Chewonki sweatshirts at Bill’s farm. As I looked down at myself I realized the circle was complete. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought that day on the T, that I would become one of those students, and now I have. I want to thank everyone at Chewonki for their patience, determination, and overall willingness to give me the opportunity to experience what those students had, even after I had brushed it away the first time.

And I want to thank my classmates/friends/siblings/playmates/MCSers for helping me in this process. I can’t even begin to describe how amazing you all are. As I looked at all of you at Bill’s, laughing and joking, I realized our time at Chewonki will never end. We will always be MCS 40. I hope to see you all soon at some point. And don’t dwell on the ending. We are off on new adventures! Go make a salad outside, or sleep in a hammock one night, or go on a walk. Now I’m going to go before this gets any more cheesy (or I start crying). But I really do love you all and I want to thank you for being yourselves.

Love, Erica

-Erica Georgaklis, Calais, VT

We knew that this wasn’t like any other final exam we’d taken before. For one thing we’d gotten up at 5:45 for a bird walk at 6:00 am, which was the first part of the exam. First we heard the tufted titmouse off in the distance and Don’s hints were especially helpful. He calls a black and white warbler “the bird version of an old movie.” We walked down to the waterfront and spotted a bald eagle, and then continued up toward the farm to hear some red-winged blackbirds among others.

After breakfast we headed out to Reid State Park and started our exam with group cheers. In our groups we sang and danced to show our team spirit. Some of the team names included “the Planeteers,” “The Cycotrophies,” “Trametes,” “The Amazing Atlantic Puffins,” and a few other creative names. We went to different stations throughout the day to show all that we have learned on our science field trips and in the class. During one of our favorites we measured the speed of water traveling under a bridge. The lunch was delicious as usual, we had a barbeque with hamburgers and hotdogs and huge chocolate chip cookies. YUM. We finished off the day with a study of the rocky intertidal zone and some people found a whole family of starfish and lots of sea urchins in the tide pools! We were all exhausted on the bus ride home but were very proud of all the work we had done. It was so cool to take such a hands-on test as our final exam!

-Molly Simpson, Morristown, NJ
& Eliza Taylor, New York, NY

No matter what you do after preparing, cooking, and eating a meal there will always be dishes to wash, and with an average of 45+ people eating at every meal, here at MCS, we create a lot of dirty dishes. To make sure that they all get washed the students are divided up into Dish Crews. I happen to be a part of dish crew six also known as the varsity dish crew. When the rotation lands on dish crew six it becomes our duty to tackle the massive piles of dishes to clean.

There are many different jobs to do and if executed well as my dish crew does on a regular basis, it can be done quickly. The first job, manned by 2-3 students, is the dirty side. It is their responsibility to load the dishes coming in onto the trays so that they can go through our dishwasher known as “The Hobart.” After the dishes have been successfully loaded onto trays they get passed to the sprayer. The sprayer has one of the most important tasks. They must spray off as much of the excess food from the dishes that they can, and if they fail to do so, the dishes will have to be scrubbed again and put back in through the Hobart. The third job on the dish crew is to work on the clean side. On the clean side you have to take the clean dishes and put them in their proper places around the kitchen. This task must be done well because if you put dishes in the wrong place the kitchen staff my find it hard to make the next meal. The last job, which is how I spend the majority of my dish crews, is to wash the pots. This part of the dishwashing process is kind of separated from the rest because it takes place at its own sinks. Through a process of scrubbing, rinsing, and sanitizing, the pots are hand-washed and then passed off to the clean side to be put away.

While all of this is occurring, to make things interesting we usually play music and dance around. When we are done with the dish washing we finish up with some more dancing and mopping the floor. I can honestly say for myself that I feel so accomplished after each dish crew when I think about how large the pile of pots was and then look around at the clean dish room. Dish crew as well as many other things we do around Chewonki has made me realize just how important the little jobs are. Whether it’s the all the little maintenance projects that keep Chewonki functioning or the parts of my dish crew it’s the little things that make this world go round.

-Nick McLeod, Wiscasset, ME

On Friday Lola had her calf. He is light brown and is wide eyed. He is so curious, when we were milking Lola he wanted to sniff and lick everything. He discovered the fence; he attempted to run right through it and then tried to climbing over it but he couldn’t. I think the sheep have adopted him as one of them. When we tried to wrangle up Lola, she won’t go anywhere with out her calf, all the ewes surrounded him. Brad finally just carried him out of the pasture and Lola followed. My cabin is on Farm Chores this week and I am so happy. I never thought I would so happy waking up at 6:45 to feed up animals and sometimes pick up after them. I even don’t mind being bitten by black flies during the morning. Chores on the farm have switched gears, now all the animals are out to pasture and now that the calf has been born Lola is getting milked.

Chewonki is also experiencing a change in pace. The weather is sunny and warm, next week we have exams, but no one’s stressed and everything feels pretty calm. The weather is so beautiful that I have been spending a lot of time outdoors, I love hearing the peepers sing in the afternoon and evening.

-Tina Samedy, New York, NY

The day broke with clear skies and the whisper of a breeze: Mother’s Day. I had been tossing and turning since 3 a.m., when I had returned from the barn. I turned off my alarm before it even sounded. Feet on the floor, I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wondered if Lola’s calf would still be strong enough to nurse, or weak and withering despite our efforts. The weight of the calf’s life felt cumbersome and sad at this hour without much sleep to provide perspective. Part of farming is making decisions of consequence at every turn. Farmers are human, and our own moods, energy, strengths and weaknesses come into play in those decisions. It was hard to say why this calf wasn’t thriving as it should. Lola was a model mother, attentive and expectant, but he wouldn’t seek her teat or latch on even with our guidance.

I took another deep breath, pulled on socks and fiddled with my overall straps. I had a feeling Brad would be in the barn when I got there, even though neither of us was “on” chores this particular weekend. The unsettling feeling of an animal in our care, struggling, would draw the entire farm crew to the barn. As I suspected, when I rounded the corner of the Gatehouse, Brad was sitting on the stairs lacing up his shoes and Abby and Meg were already checking water and getting grain ready. Lola nudged her calf and uttered a deep guttural sound. I was relieved to see him wide-eyed and wobbly, and decidedly alive, as he navigated clumsily around the tie-up. We had made the decision to pull them both off pasture and into the barn for the night to make a 3 a.m. check and assisted feeding easier. We were still hopeful this calf would come around and latch on to his mother’s teat on his own. We had essentially been forcing him to feed, guiding him toward the milk and holding his body and head in place until his instinct to suck kicked in. It did kick in, but not quickly and not with the force of will and vigor that a healthy calf would exhibit. This did not bode well and we knew it.

We made the decision to bottle-feed. This came at a price. Once you offer a bottle to a young calf or lamb, it is very unlikely to seek mother’s milk from the source. In other words, we would create a dependency we could not retract. We would be making the commitment to be the source of sustenance for this young life until it could manage on its own with grass and grain.

Thirty-six hours after he came into the world we offered him a bottle – hoping, assuming, he would accept this gesture and suck down a hearty meal of mom’s milk via artificial nipple. Instead, he flailed and resisted, upsetting his mother and frustrating us. He would not suck; he would not even swallow the milk we squirted down his throat. He flopped and rolled his eyes in confusion and opposition. Lola bellowed a protest of concern and we gave into aggravation and weariness. We led Lola, and dragged her calf, back out into the sparkling morning and onto fresh spring pasture. From a distance, the scene could not of been more pastoral. Blue sky against budding oaks, lambs giving meaning to the word “frolic” alongside happily grazing ewes, and a brand new calf trotting amongst them with a wary mother keeping an eye cast his direction while sampling the clover.

I felt resigned and heavy walking home. Without his mother’s colostrum, this bull calf would surely begin to weaken. He would not survive. We would have to put him down to avoid the slow lingering end of starvation.

That afternoon, I was trying to catch up on some sleep with my windows wide open. I heard Brad and Maddie softly talking in the field. “What took you so long?” Brad asked. I felt a surge of energy overhearing those words and for the third time since midnight threw the covers off and rushed downstairs, startling Jordy into a barking frenzy on my way down. We both flew out the door loudly and I watched as Brad raised his arms in the air with victory, an empty bottle in his hand.

It didn’t mean the calf was out of the woods. But, in that moment, he had taken the burden of choice out of our hands and he had fumbled his way toward survival…at least for another day.

-Margaret Youngs, Farm Manager

The day began like any other ordinary day at MCS. I had four classes during the morning and barely made it to morning gather with my “bed head” hair still standing straight up. However, at ten minutes til’ one this all changed when it was Corwith Cramer’s turn to make an announcement for OAP, the MCS gym program. Banging his fist against the table, Cory spoke with enthusiasm. The day’s OAP activity was “an inspirational run” around Chewonki Neck.

Dashing off into the quad Cory sprang forward with pent up energy. The nine other inspired runners followed in pursuit. He sprinted towards a white pine tree in the quad and leaped off it right before racing to the lower field. Following behind him, I ran with my arms spread wide pretending to fly. Entering the woods, Cory skipped back and forth across a stream. In a ‘monkey see monkey do’ pattern Doug and I followed Cory’s random skipping movements through the woods. Cory continued running and jumping over dead fallen trees as if they were hurdles in a track race. He ran around a dead tree and swung himself around it quickly changing directions. I got a good chuckle hearing the crack of the tree and seeing it shake. Only a man like Cory could almost knock down a dead monstrous tree. Doug and Erica ran behind him with their arms spread like they were turkey vultures circling around the trees. Cory led them in and out of trees, over shrubs, and over about a hundred fallen trees. We were probably only about four minutes into our run, and then spotted a marsh. Cory’s eyes widened and he picked up speed sprinting through the mucky water. Stupidly, I followed. I looked behind me to look for everyone else, and they all had stayed on the path. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and I realized that I made a big mistake wearing my only clean white pair of shorts. The further I followed Cory through the marshy area the more water gushed into my shoes, and my shorts got heavier with the gallons of water they soaked up.

Cory continued running on, and we continued the pattern of following our fearless leader. He had led us right out of the woods to the mud flats. Cory splashed and jumped in joy in the mud. However, before I could think to turn around something struck me. I had been hit in the face by one of Doug’s mud balls. I was ready to retaliate, but got hit again by one thrown from Lucy. A mud war was on, and I wanted to get even. Covered with mud, Cory led us on through the woods again. We continued to follow the same course. We ran, twirled, flew, and hopped around. Faster than I could blink an eye we were back on another part of the mud flats. Doug saw the rocky cliff leading down to the flats as a way to test his inner ninja. Joking to Doug, Cory yelled that he would make sure to pick up Doug’s broken pieces. In the mud another mud fight broke out. Unfortunately, it was getting late. I attempted to do a belly flop in the mud. Instead, I didn’t sink in to the mud as I originally planned. Rather, I slid like a penguin on my stomach giggling with joy. Luckily, we didn’t continue running. Instead, everyone slid in the mud and continued to coat themselves in it.

I can only think to myself “How could a school’s gym class get any better?”

-Patrick O’Keefe, Andover, MA

This morning, MCS 40 woke up to an unfamiliar sound. It was pouring rain for the first time since spring break. The rain and wind were so strong that Tuesday science field trip was cancelled. To put that in perspective, Rhan thinks this was the first science field trip cancelled in a few years. By early afternoon the newly green fields were covered in gigantic puddles. The only thing on my mind was what ridiculous activity Ted and Cory would create for Outdoor Athletic Program (OAP) in the afternoon. At lunch, my hopes of a sliding extravaganza were squashed by an announcement directed at Ted by Don Lamson. It was established that we were to stay off the fragile fields.

OAP time rolled around and the activities were Dance Dance Revolution or a trip to the Wiscasset recreation center. I wasn’t particularly excited for either and hoped we could get away with puddle jumping. Halfway through OAP I was in luck; you can only play DDR for so long. A group of about eight of us started cartwheel and summersault races on the quad. When Ted saw we were already drenched, he made the executive decision that while some fields were in a rather fragile state, there were some places that would be fine to slide on.

A rule was set that nobody should slide in a place more than once and we began. Bracing ourselves for the chill of fresh rainwater we ran and slid, then ran and slid again. Our shrieks and hollers turned into a decision to do an impromptu polar bear. The entire group sprinted to the waterfront, and with Ted watching over, took turns jumping off the dock into the icy Maine water for a quick dunk. Shivering, laughing, and smiling from ear to ear we walked back up to the quad in the rain and headed for hot showers.

-Lisa Beneman, Scarborough, ME

Solos

Solo at last, only breath says I’m here
under great red pine tree.
With eyes you can’t see them, but they are near;
they too are alone across the mud flat expanse,
sitting, waiting, first and only chance.

I wait on the sun for the west side am I,
till’ noon, then one, then two o’clock all go by.
The sun dapples through but the breeze is still stronger,
rather nap than that view, forest floor seems much fonder.

An eagle soars high and an osprey dives low,
two song sparrows twitter and chirp as they go.
But time doesn’t care about comings of fools,
for great oceans, strong tides follow it’s rules.

To break woody silence the sharp trill of a gull,
as mother earth’s wish there is never a lull;
even when quiet seems, the smallest are moving,
busy working; continue their day in and out doing.

Sun has finally showed now at three I’ve been waiting,
tide has gone in and out my day slowly is fading,
shedding darkening greeting on eastern side now,
here sky is still blue yet long tree shadows bow.

Day threatens to leave, how I wish it would stay,
now that warm yellow beams have all come my way!
With leavings, I’ve learned, there’s always things new
dark curtain closes, new scene, backstage crew.

So now lunar goddess prepares for her reign;
bright, happy sunshine from the sky seems to drain.
Alone but not lonely I watch it leave, knowing
on the last wisps of darkness comes angel’s bright reprieve.

-Katlyn Keane

Yes, we have all come back healthy and rejuvenated from solos! Our solos were excursions out into the woods of Chewonki neck with all of the students (except two, sorry) getting waterfront property. Our solo sites were approximately 400 square yards each and we had three days and two nights to sit in our site, with our tarp and ground cloth for a house, and think about our MCS experience thus far. Many students, if not all, enjoyed their solo experience as a break from the ever moving life of Chewonki and a time when they could sit and do the things that don’t seem very productive at 10:00 at night after check in such as: writing in journals, art, bird watching, building fairy houses, and observing the tides. I have been alive for 17 years and I had not been alone for more than a day until my solo experience. It was quite a change for me. It isn’t very often that a person in the world of today gets to be completely alone; I’m not entirely sure I like being along for that long but I would definitely like to go on a solo again to have a similarly peaceful and maybe different experience. I asked seven students at MCS how they would describe their solo experiences in one word. The responses I got were:

Peaceful
Solitary and Enlightening
Revitalizing
Turkeys!
Quiet
Unbelievingly amazing
Deer!

From all these responses hopefully you can get an idea of the quiet, wildlife filled, thoughtful experience that all 38 of us got to participate in. We had beautiful weather which is uncommon in MCS history and that was wonderful. I will always remember my first solo experience and maybe will take others like it in my life. The only thing that was lacking on the solo was space. Taking a walk is a great way to get thoughts moving and I couldn’t do that without running into someone else’s solo site. However, my solo experience was simply a taste of a more intense solo experience that someday hopefully I will be compelled to do.

-Katlyn Keane, Bethel, ME

During lunch announcements on Friday, Ted stood up and gave an amazing speech to prepare us all for what we would encounter during our outdoor activity program (OAP) that day. He told us to gather on the tennis courts at four ready to play some dodge ball. From this point on, my mind was filled with my excitement to dodge, dip, duck, dive, and dodge for an hour straight. When it was finally four, everyone began to show up at the courts. We all found a partner of equal skill and playing ability and separated out into two teams. Because of this, the teams were pretty even, even though in the beginning one of them had Cory, Ted, and Ben (the three adult male dodgeball veterans). In the end, my team very narrowly won when it came down to a one on one battle between Collin and Nick in game 5. Luckily, the games ended with a minimal amount of tears and very tired arms,

That evening we had round table meetings with college counselors from schools across the country, which many people found to be very helpful, but I also know that many of the students (including myself) here had already had a similar experience at their schools back home. In my opinion, the individual meetings that we had the next day were much more helpful because I was able to look at a broad list of colleges that my counselor believed I might like.

Another thing that took place was the sustainability conference yesterday over in the Center for Environmental Education. Unfortunately I was working in the morning, so I could not go over and hear the keynote speaker nor participate in any of the workshops. However, in the afternoon I walked over to the parking lot and drove an electric car down Chewonki Neck Road. It was amazing how quiet the car was, and I also found out that the brakes were very responsive when Grady made me slam on them in order to let him out to chase a pack of wild turkeys. It was also probably good that I looked at our battery level and realized that it was time to turn around because if I had not, we would not have been able to reach the high speed of 14 mph while going up a hill, much to the dismay of the truck behind us. Overall, I think it’s pretty sweet that we can run cars off of batteries; it’s just too bad that most of them cannot go fast enough to be a reasonable method of transportation.

When I think about how many cool and interesting things that I did in just 36 hours of my time at Chewonki, I realize just how lucky I am to be here.

-Danny Forrester, Washington, DC

It was a cold windy Friday night back in the dead of winter. Chewonki’s recent sunshine and warm weather were still months away and the boys of South Side (South Hall) began their nightly ritual: Pig. Known also as “Horse” in some circles, this game based on Basketball is a true test of human skill, strength, will power, endurance, and most of all honor. With a ten-dollar plastic Basketball and Net purchased from the Family Dollar, the first player shoots the ball. If the shot is made the next player must make the same shot. If this second shot is not made the player who took the shot gets the first letter “P”. When a player has all the letters spelling pig then he or she is out. In South Side this game determines who will be getting a load of wood to keep the cabin warm, but more importantly, it determines who will be receiving The Champions Belt. This belt made of cardboard and tape from one of Doug’s packages is the highest achievable honor in all of South Side. The winner hangs the belt high above his bed until the belt is taken from him by a new champion on a different night.

On one particular night Danny, Malcolm, Doug and I were taking our first shots back in the cabin when we heard the expected knocking from a faculty member who would check us in. But, my friends, this was not just any faculty member, it was Willard. Willard, the six foot eight inch king of the Wiscasset Community Men’s Basketball League is a force to be reckoned with on the pig court, and he joined the game. Within the first few rounds of playing, Danny, usually a fierce competitor, was eliminated when he could not make a tough shot that Willard had drained just seconds earlier. A few more rounds passed and Doug and Malcolm became Willard’s next two victims.

Then it hit me. South Side’s honor would be stripped from our hands if Willard walked away with our Champion’s Belt. I knew what I had to do. Taking a long shot from next to Danny’s bed in the corner I set a difficult shot to follow up. Willard, with the score of “PI” had to make this shot or lose the game and gain the final letter. The orange ball left his hands and soared towards the basket. It went closer and closer to the net but took a bad bounce on the rim and fell like a rock to the floor. I had won, but more importantly South Side was victorious. It was the greatest and most glorious moment of all time.

Looking back on the night now I always smile to myself. Where else, other than Maine Coast Semester, would you play your six foot eight inch principal in Pig.

-Grady Hogan, Summit, NJ

The late afternoon sun flickered across my face as I stumbled onto Pinky Point, one of Chewonki’s gigantic, painfully heavy, yellow dry bags strapped onto my back. I put the pack down. Thoughts of “now what?” flashed through my mind. “What homework is due on Monday? When do I have time to get laundry done? When should I call my parents?” Then it hit me. Solos here at Maine Coast Semester are a chance to relax, be alone for an extended period of time in nature, and delve into previously unexplored avenues of thought. Simply put, there was nothing urgent.

As the afternoon turned into twilight, I sat on the big rocks on the shore of Pinky; practiced yoga, and watched two white haired wormers move across the mud flats, their thick Maine accents interesting to listen to. Hours passed, the sun set to the west, and the nearly full moon rose over the water. It was mesmerizing to look at; a seemingly endless path of pearly light shimmering on the waves. When night arrived to its full extent, I lay in my warm, red and brown North Face sleeping bag. Rays of golden moonlight and the sound of the waves gently meeting the rocky shore lulled me into a peaceful slumber.

And so it continued for exactly 48 hours. My solo was chance to simply watch the sun journey from coast to coast, watch the tide move in and out, and the moon rise over the water. Overall, the Maine Coast Semester solo experience was an opportunity to cherish each millisecond of life; a time to be a part of nature.

-Sylvia LaPorta, Cornwall Bridge, CT

Nothing epitomizes the Chewonki culinary arts more than a delicious bag of GORP. For those of you who are not fortunate enough to know what GORP is, please allow me to explain. GORP stands for “good old raisins and peanuts” but at Chewonki, it is oh so much more. The following is the recipe that will lead you to your own little bag of heaven.

Chewonki GORP

-peanuts
-raisins
-cheerios
-sunflower seeds
-Reeses Pieces
-chocolate chips
-anything else you would like to add

The quantities vary depending on the individual but they are all mixed together to create a coalition of sweet and salty flavors, resulting in deliciousness. Enjoy!

-Gabriella Gentile, Concord, MA

Katlyn & Emma selling stylish canvas bags to raise money for Nora’s trip to Portland

This week we saw the final coming together of a project that a group of devoted MCS 40’ers have been working on for the past couple of weeks. Sue West – art teacher, meditation master, and award-winning announcement-giver – has been heading up a project dubbed NORA. Together we have gone through thick and thin, short meeting after short meeting, to find the best way to raise some money to bring a little girl named Nora from Iraq to Portland to receive some necessary medical help. After much discussion we decided to cash into the green living craze currently sweeping the nation and create one-of-a-kind canvas bags. The design proved to be even more challenging than finding the right project, as each person had their own idea of the best possible way to “sell sell sell.” In the end we reached a consensus with the esteemed help of the staff and students here at Chewonki. The resulting bags, which are both beautiful and functional, are now on sale for $12. If you’re thinking that this is an elaborate ploy to tear at your heartstrings and loosen your purses, you are right. If you are interested in supporting our cause please contact Sue West at swest@chewonki.org. Thanks so much!

-Emma Wolfe-Parthun, Peterborough, ON

As a Canadian here at Chewonki I think my experience may be slightly different than other students. There are of course the usual Canadian jokes… “How does a Canadian spell Canada… C eh N eh D eh”….hah hah hah, yes Rhan certainly is a wit. And the usual teasing about pronunciation, yes I say abOOt and not abOUt, and I may ask you for a bAHgel and not bagel.

Then there is the interesting phenomenon of American History. Now I do not mean to say that you are pig-headed or oblivious in anyway, but really, Canada has played a much bigger role then you lead on. Buying Alaska from the Russians may not be the most exciting piece of your history, but I would have thought that you might have included that we fought you (in a diplomatic sense) for it tooth and nail. And how about WWII, we came to the rescue more times then I can count. This unfortunate lack of Canadian education is having a drastic effect on young Americans, a problem I am happily rectifying. For instance when I am asked if Ottawa is near Ontario, I happily respond that yes, in fact Ottawa in inside Ontario and so on. However the main thing that I have found is that regardless of tangy ketchup and Fahrenheit, I have never felt luckier to be some place, as I am to be here.

-Emma Wolfe-Parthun, Peterborough, ON

During the Open House for accepted students I was asked an interesting question. “What has been the hardest part about coming here?” After a couple moments of silence I realized an answer was desperately needed. “I would have to say cabin life. It’s the best and the hardest part of being here.” The more I think about that answer the more I agree.

Orchard House is my temporary home. It’s not just my home, it’s 7 other girls’ home too. This can pose quite a problem with making fires (97 degrees one night), when to go to bed (ranges from 7:30pm to 12am), mess (guilty as charged) and respect for others in general. Living with so many others means that every action poses the risk of upsetting someone else’s routine.

Despite all these issues there is no other place I would rather be. My cabin mates or “sisters” as we call each other do a lot of things together. My sisters and I have dance parties. Oh so many dance parties. We wear party hats and jump around. We also do “hot exercises” which involves stoking the fire to very hot and doing a variety of jumping jacks and crunches. We make hemp bracelets while laughing till we drop. Katlyn reads us articles from magazines while talking with a Russian accent. I jump into bed with Lindie when I feel lonely and need a cuddle. We watch movies. We have quote time where we all sit around the fire and read some quotes. We roast marshmallows over our stove. We made the best, ok second best by half a point, desert during our Saturday night activity “Oreo cheesecake”. We literally roll around in the mud. Like I said, there’s no where else I would rather be.

-Audrey Boochever, Washington, DC