We rolled into camp Friday afternoon and eased into our familiar rhythm, laptops open just long enough to finish the workday before giving ourselves over to the better part of the evening. Cocktail hour set the tone. The drink of the night was a gin and tonic with a Mediterranean twist, built on Gin Mare and Fever-Tree elderflower tonic, brightened with a sprig of rosemary and a twist of orange. Prosciutto-wrapped breadsticks rounded out the spread. Simple, balanced, and just indulgent enough to mark the shift from work to rest.

Date Night dinner followed without fuss or fanfare, just the kind of meal that tastes better outdoors. Grilled steaks came off the fire with that perfect mix of char and tenderness, joined by Italian pole green beans and a classic baked potato. We lingered at the table before settling by the campfire, letting the quiet surround us and the day’s strain finally drift off into the night.

Saturday morning unfolded at a gentler pace. Cliff leaned into his rituals, paging through recipes for the week ahead, scrolling through The New York Times, and assembling breakfast cocktails with the same care he gives any evening pour. Meanwhile, Jon was deep into final preparations for the residency graduation event, tying up the loose ends that always seem to surface at the last minute.

After brunch and a short nap, the weekend split in two directions. Jon headed back to Dallas for the evening event at the Sheraton downtown, trading a campfire night for ballroom lights. Cliff stayed behind at Cloud 9, where the pace remained easy. Ginger got her long walk, complete with a quick dip in Joe Pool Lake, the kind of simple joy that defines a good camp day.

Dinner that night reflected the split as well. Jon navigated a standard banquet chicken with grilled Romain and steamed veggies at the Sheraton (meh), while Chef Cliff worked his quiet magic back at camp, repurposing leftover rotisserie chicken into something far more satisfying. A familiar contrast, and one we have come to appreciate in its own way.

Jon made his way back to camp around 10:30, arriving just in time for one last ritual: A glass of port, a wedge of gouda, and a chance to decompress together. We traded stories from two very different evenings before turning in around 11:30, the kind of tired that only comes from living in two worlds.

Sunday found us back in sync. The morning followed our well-worn pattern, watching “Sunday Today” and “CBS Sunday Morning,” reading The New York Times, brunching, and napping. Camp has a way of stretching time just enough to make even a short weekend feel complete.

Next weekend will bring us back to Loyd Park, a change of plans that feels right for the moment. With gas prices still sitting well above $4 a gallon, our long-anticipated trip to Mount Rushmore is on hold. For now, we are choosing the ease of a mini staycation over the miles, trusting that the road will still be there when the timing makes sense again. In the meantime, we will keep returning to what we know sustains us: thoughtful conversation, moments of nature, and the steady rhythm of camp life.