I have many happy memories of my summers at Bar Harbour Camp situated on Buffalo Lake just north of Erskine, Alberta.  One of the stories in my book tells about some of those adventures.  When I heard that there is going to be a Fund-Raiser on September 15th at 6:30 p.m., I wanted to help.  I thought I could help by challenging camp alumni and anyone interested in helping to keep the Camp operating to donate either time or funds.  For more information, please see the Events tab on my website or http://www.barharbourcamp.com

Here is an excerpt from the story, Round the Mess Hall:  Adventures at Bar Harbour United Church Camp (Roots and Adventures:  A Prairie Childhood, 2014, pp. 198-204):

Lorraine, Lorraine, strong and able,

Get your elbows off the table.

This is not a horse's stable,

But a first-class dining table.

Round the mess hall you must go,

You must go, you must go,

Round the mess hall you must go,

You get going! 

Whenever I see someone with their elbows on the table while they are eating, I have the urge to sing the song that I learned at Bar Harbour United Church Camp in the summer of 1959.  From the age of eight until sixteen, I spent one week most summers at Bar Harbour United Church Camp on Buffalo Lake.... 

I eagerly waited for the church to distribute the brochures announcing the dates for summer camp....  When the week finally arrived, Mom would drive me to camp in her baby blue 1958 Chevrolet station wagon.  I remember checking in at a table set up in the mess hall and being assigned a cabin number....

Once I had raced to obtain a top bunk near the peaked ceiling, I would eagerly meet my cabin mates.  Usually I didn't know anyone else in my cabin, and I remember how we went from being strangers to great friends within a few minutes.... 

We staggered out of our beds at 7 a.m. when the director rang the bell, pulled on our clothes, and quickly splashed our faces and rinsed our hands at the wash area which had three cold-water only faucets.  Then we gathered in front of the cabins, sang "O Canada," saluted the flag, and had a morning prayer....

After our daily chore was done, we had a half hour to clean and decorate our cabins for the much-coveted best-cabin prize judged by the director and awarded each night during campfire.  I recall gathering wild roses, grasses, small rocks, and other found objects in the surroundings and helping my cabin mates arrange these treasures into masterpieces.  After cabin time, we usually played games in the clearing or went on a nature hike--the activities often depended on the volunteer counsellors' abilities and knowledge....

Each evening, a different cabin produced the evening campfire show.  I distinctly remember one year when our counsellor had a script of word play that we produced.  I can close my eyes now and see the circle of faces around the campfire and me throwing a banana peel and shouting, "Your appeal is fruitless!" to my fellow cabin mate/actress in the play.  The production was always followed by the announcement of the best cabin award, and then one of the counsellors or the director would strum a guitar, and start to sing campfire songs.  My favorite were rounds where different groups started and ended the singing at a different time....

My last Bar Harbour Summer Camp was when I was 16 years old.  I was then in the role of counsellor....  The first night, my toes hit grit when I crawled into my sleeping bag.  Sand in the sleeping bag was a common initiation rite for counsellors.... 

At the campfire, 'my girls' put on the best play of the week, and someone else threw the banana peel and shouted, "Your appeal is fruitless!"

And, I only had to run around the mess hall twice in all my years at Bar Harbour United Church Camp on Buffalo Lake. 

Copyright, Lorraine Lohr Cathro, 2014

Well, now that I have your attention with that title, I will tell you about my morning so far. 

The alarm went at 6 a.m. because Doug is golfing this morning.  I've learned it's just easier to get up.  The next thing I heard was, "Lorraine, Hayley had diarrhea in the night."  I won't print my exact reply, but it was something like:  "Okay, dear, I will be right there to clean it up!"

Grab the paper towel roll, the household cleaner, pull on disposable gloves in such a pretty shade of blue, and enter the attached garage.  Take one look at the offering, go back for more towels, and a large garbage bag.  Realize that I can't see well in the garage because of the overcast morning so back I go for a flashlight.  Position the flashlight so that I can--more or less--see the offering, conveniently left on the grate.  Clean up the mess, pour vinegar and water down the grate, make a trip to the garbage can to disguise the smaller garbage bag within a larger garbage bag.

While I'm in the cleaning up poop job mode, I decide to clean up the bat poop at the front door.  This is my daily job from mid-May to mid-September.  The bats love to hang around our place, and we like them there because they take care of the mosquitoes in our front yard.  We don't like them because those little brown bats hang right by our front door.

We are glad to report that we have the ideal conditions for brown bats--a pond, angles on the house that are perfect for 'hanging out,' and more than enough bugs to satisfy.  Therefore, it has been predicted that we probably have hundreds--if not more--bats living in the neighborhood. 

Our attempts to get them to 'hang out' elsewhere have all been dismal failures.  We have tried putting up a bat house--it's a good bird perch, but I've never seen a bat near it; hanging wired gizmos in the corners--they just wriggle around them; wind chimes to frighten them--they just fly around them; even putting a radio under a box tuned to an all-night talk show--they invited their friends to hear the show. 

After cleaning up the poop and spraying the area with bug spray, I make another trip to the garbage can.

So, how is your morning going so far!  (I had to use an exclamation mark because the question mark has decided not to work on my computer--yes, I know the computer is on some function level that I am not.)  I have a feeling it`s going to be one of those days. 

With the long weekend of August 2014 now over and the 'back-to-school' sale flyers making me long to be a student once again, there are still flowers blooming and, unfortunately, the odd tick attaching itself to Hayley dog.  Flowers and ticks are the subjects of the two poems which follow: 




Strength

Rudbeckia fulgida

Protecting your flowers

Healthy, vigorous

You don't need my attention.

The deer respect you

Leave you alone.

You ignore the drought

Thrive in poor soil

Disease and insects don't trouble you. 

A splash of warm late-summer colour

Extending into fall.

You mock the light frost

Laugh at the early snowfall.

Strong, centered, spreading

You persevere.

Black-eyed Susans.

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Tick(ed) Off

How dare you think

That you could burrow into my golden girl

With your tentacles

You blood-sucking arachnid.