Today began with a super secret project at the grandparents’ house. From all accounts, the project was smashing.
The remainder of the day has been fairly subdued, with writing giving way to television, video games, napping, and chatting. Strangely, these middle parts where nothing much happens are the umami of book camp. They are the warm, savory taste of book camps gone by.
We’ve discussed dandelions quite a lot this book camp. As an unwanted weed, a dandelion is detritus. A dandelion represents a compelling narrative of the inevitability of loss while reminding the world that nothing is ever truly lost. The fluff of a dandelion is well recognized as a metaphor for wanderlust. And dandelions thrive in the dirt, are always trying to get back to it.
Each camper received a piece of jewelry filled with one or more fluffs of dandelion suspended in resin. The jewelry serves as a reminder of book camp, a reminder of the power of wishing, a reminder that we must let go of one beautiful thing (the cheerful petals) for the next beautiful thing (fluff) to come into its own.
I learned years ago that a dandelion, when picked at its yellow height and thrown into the lawn waste, will still fluff. It’s power to transform is not in the soil, the sun, or its own root but in the thing itself. What if we each believed the same transforming power to surge through ourselves?
To round out our pre-supper activities, Camper 4 and I hashed out a new concept to cowrite. We drew it all over the white board while sitting on the concrete floor. One thought built on another or digressed and before we knew it we were both hooked. I adore that kind of creative chemistry!
Until tomorrow…
