I’ve just come back from a week of camping on the beautiful island of St. John in the USVI.

Swimming. A lot.

Even when it said not to. (Shhhhh!)

Snorkeling with my son.

Beach walks.

Critters. In the water. And in our tent.

3-inch beetles. Turtles. Crabs. Millipedes of insane size!

Vistas.

Sunsets.

Fishies! And more fishies! And more turtles that let me swim down to touch their shells, humoring me with their presence until they streamlined those inefficient-looking bodies and jetted off.

Prickly things.

Morning coffee.

And evening meals.

And rainbows over the beach on perfectly warm days.

Spotted Rays. Clear water every day.

Goofing with my favorite boy.

Enjoying our campground’s front yard.

Selfies – because when you go camping with your 13-year-old for a week, it’s the only way you have pictures of yourself to prove you were on this vacation too.

Representin’!

Meeting new friends….

And reading. Books about swimming. And a serial killer. But mostly swimming. Kind of. (Just read it.)

Cold campground showers.

And frosty drinks.

And hopefully, enough of all of this to tide us over until the Spring.