I had forgotten how Camp Cross smells. Early in the season, there are these little white clumps of flowers on all the trees, and their scent lightly dusts the clean, crisp air. It is remarkable how a smell can bring back summers of memories, and how seeing some of my best friends after months and years is the most natural thing in the world. Mike and I were not alone in flying up here for the weekend. The silence of camp is permeated only by birds and waves lapping the shore. As I type, rain has begun to fall. I can smell its freshness and feel its humidity and hear its soft pattering. I do not spend the majority of my day indoors in a windowless room here… I live fully in the natural world, and in community with friends. There are no cars and no advertisements. The days are longer and fuller. Life is better here.