A dying day

Today was a dying day in the best and least morbid sense of the word. The craft for the first day of camp was Sundye. The kids started on purses and various stuffed creations by dying the fabric out of which their projects will be made. It went surprisingly without incident. Like that Monty Python sketch where there is NO severed head behind the bushes, NO torso and assorted limbs in the rhododendron and NO spots of blood on the collar of Mr. Percival's white shirt; there was NO splashing of dye, NO dyeing of our clothes unintentionally and NO long lasting trauma for today.

The kids' creations in dye in the backyard.

As always the first day of camp was exhausting. When you are a child you don't realise just how much work can be put into amusing you. Curiously enough the inverse is also true, when you are an adult you finally realise how (occaisionally) so little work was put into amusing you, and how much you loved it.

The highlight of the day was, of course, completing my socks. You all must revel in their incomparable glory. Look at them! Have you ever seen a more beautiful first pair of socks??? I don't think so. And even though I am aware that it is shameless self-flattery to go on about them so much I can't help myself. Look at them. And then they are so soft when you touch them and I made them myself..... okay okay enough with the socks. (I love them!!!!!!)