Taking a mid-morning break
Our Sunday morning routine was much the same as Saturday morning's: huddle around the campfire, clutching hot beverages, and then snarfing down breakfast (French toast) before it got cold. Note to selves for next time: keep the butter container lid out of the dog's reach. The only plan for the day was to pack up and go home (and commence the many, many loads of laundry to divest all the fleece of campfire smoke smell), so we took our time, cracking our first beers at 10:30 a.m. It was 59 F by late morning, and felt warmer in the sun, as we leisurely took down the tent and loaded the truck, saying farewell once again to Cobblerest around noon.
We were taking bets on how quickly B would fall asleep once we got in the truck. Sure enough, she crashed as soon as we got going, resting her head on H's knee, just as she had done for our road trip across the country when we moved out here. I think she had a good weekend. Exhausting, what with all the fishing and digging and stick-chewing and general vigilance, but she seemed like she was having fun (as were we). And she finally got to go do stuff instead of getting stuck at home.