By Betsy Gonwa, 
Thursday night we set up our tent as well as a canopy over our picnic table. Friday morning, another camper pointed out the sunrise, behind me, spreading its rays through the mist covering Wildcat Mountain. After breakfast, we biked on roads along ridges and through valleys in the beautiful sunny countryside. And after that, the sun went into hiding.
Friday night, it rained on our tent as we slept. It rained on our canopy as we ate breakfast. It rained on me and my friend as we walked. It rained while we ate lunch and played cribbage. It rained when we were supposed to go kayaking. That night, sitting around the campfire, raindrops fell again. It rained all through the night. It rained while we cooked breakfast and while we ate breakfast. It rained while my husband and son took down our tent. It rained while we helped our son take down his tent. Drops of rain fell when we were posing for a group photo. It rained as we drove away from the campground.
Sunday morning, moist, lush green surrounded us as the wipers swished on the windshield. We no longer trusted any weather predictions, but eventually my husband turned off the windshield wipers, and we dared to hope that we might see the sun. At the American Players Theatre in Spring Green, we sat under a sunny sky! Then, just as the first act was coming to a close, thunder sounded, followed by the sounds of many theatre patrons pulling out and donning raingear. Then the sound of rain falling. Again.
“Rain, rain go away. Come back another day. Little Mary wants to play.” That is the song my granddaughter would have been singing, but we didn’t have it in us to sing one more time.
We were supposed to meet up for dinner with family members who were coming for the evening play, but that would have meant waiting for an hour and a half. In the rain. We didn’t even think about taking out our cribbage board. We tried to contact them. Perhaps we could meet at their hotel. But the cell reception was poor, and there was no response. After another 30 minutes of waiting, we bailed.
With dampened spirits and a car full of wet camping gear we headed home. Had we been fresh, we might have waited it out, maybe playing a game or two of cribbage, until dinner time. But we had been rained on one too many times.
When you have a conflict between body, mind and spirit, which one do you heed?
