Hidden Corners

At camp, it seems that taking pictures of the scenery, the beautiful mountain and lake, not to mention the sunsets, is everyone’s choice of subject. However, a few years ago, my daughter Sydney, a fellow lover of photography, began snapping pictures of spots around camp that had rarely been photographed before. I remember looking at her pictures and thinking, “Wow. These are great. I am so glad we have a record of all this now”.

Inspired by Sydney, I have found myself doing the same thing in recent years, taking pictures of the seemingly hidden corners of camp that the camera rarely sees. Today I made my way into my Dad’s workshop and seeing the old blue vice on the work table, I smiled. It was one of the tools I used to find very fascinating to play with when I was a young child. I have no idea how many little toys I would grip inside or later, how many pieces of paper I’d slip in to “notarize” when playing one of my many imaginative games.

Above Dad’s workbench are dozens of peanut butter jars with their caps nailed to the beams. Inside are nails and screws of varying sizes. These jars also abound inside the garage at my Dad’s house and even in our own cellar back at home, but the sight of them is an instant reminder of my Dad and his many projects here at camp.

Outside, I found another staple of Dad’s work at camp, his big red wheelbarrow with the boat’s gas can inside. Lugging the heavy gas can to and from the boat can take its toll, so the old wheelbarrow does its part to make the job easier. That wheelbarrow has been around at camp for years and years.

It’s funny how seeing Dad’s tools here and there, (there are so many more I could speak of), always makes me smile. Having pictures of Dad’s workshop and his tools is comforting to me. I think the tools serve as symbols of the intelligent, crafty, hardworking man my Dad is, but in all honesty, it’s not like I need pictures to remind me of that.