Sometimes the best laid and dearly loved plans run thoroughly and utterly amok.

This past weekend for example. Bear and I had been working hard for months getting ready for a medieval reenactor’s weekend with swarms of our best loved medieval friends. We were looking forward to it so much. Even when my left hand swelled up black and blue after being kicked repeatedly by a feisty lamb, and my right hand swelled up after being pierced by a stray wire that jammed in there, and Robbie cut open both shins when he ran into a rogue piece of iron, and I pulled a muscle in my foot – we were still so excited and hobbled along and got all packed up and arrived in time to get mostly set up before dark.

All was well…until the rain started falling…and falling…and falling. And bit by bit the dirt turned to mud and the tent pegs popped out and in the middle of the night, after a particularly thunderous torrent, the tent fell down on top of our friends, braining them with tent poles and dousing them with water. We woke to their cries of alarm and stumbled out of our tent to find sheer mayhem. Everything was down, drenched, and streaked in mud. Humph. We stood there in the rain wondering what to do and realized…nothing. Our friends took refuge in their van, we spent a sleepless night wondering how to get the camp back together before acknowledging, nope, we simply couldn’t. The sodden ground wouldn’t hold the pegs and the pegs wouldn’t hold the tents and with another storm on the way we knew we’d just have to pack up and head home.

So we did. And it was sad and disappointing and frustrating, but it was the right call. For the rains returned and didn’t let up until Monday. We would’ve been stuck in sodden misery.

Thankfully we had some lovely moments before we left. Starting with sunrise.

Even after a soggy, sleepless night, the sun rising through the trees, shimmering through wood smoke, glistening on the dewy grass, well, it can’t help but lift your spirits.

And when you get to take a break from folding waterlogged tents, tarps, ropes, rugs, blankets, clothing, etc and sit down at a table with good friends and have homemade medieval fruit cake slathered with butter, the world feels rather wonderful.

And when you add a cup of coffee and some good stories and hearty laughs and commiserations from friends stopping by to moan and groan with us and give us big, squishy hugs, all the rumpled feelings and stresses untangled themselves and we made peace with our mayhem.

We were sad to leave, but thankful for the few hugs and visits we were able to squeeze in before we left, for one meal cooked over the fire – is there anything better than hot stew on a rainy night? – and for the chance to figure out how to make our camp storm/flood proof for next time.

Bear and I have learned that when disappointment hits, the best thing is to feel sad then replace it with something good. So we did. And I’ll tell you all about that next time. xo