I Walk Through The World of Blue
Wednesday, July 1st, 2026
LOWER RING circa 6:53pm—Children drift down from dinner into downtown Camp, casually strolling through patches of tree shadow and golden sunset. One group accrues in the Big Top to lounge on crash mats while another circles up in the stilt field to discuss the terms of an imminent game of kickball. A contingent of jugglers has appeared near the Juggling Cart for some post-dinner practice. Adjacent to my station at the Lower Ring, a group of leotarded adults have assembled at the Aerials Site for some sort of clinic. I snag some passing campers.
“I did stilts today,” says Kip, 12. “I like being taller. It’s not really adrenaline, but it’s some sort of deep-down excitement. You never know what’s gonna happen, but if you fall, you can always get back up again. You don’t know what you can learn until you actually try.”
“I went to the lake and did Lake Master and Star Lake Master,” says Liam, 12. “You have to swim 6 times around the lake, 1 for Lake Master, and 5 for Star Lake Master. I got a cramp in my leg on lap 5, but it went away after a few seconds. We’re finna get some bracelets as a prize.”
The aerialists begin a synchronized jumping jacks warm-up. I breeze across the road to interview some jugglers.
“Today I did diabolo and improv because I like being funny,” says Westley, 10. “In the afternoon I went to the creek and skipped rocks and caught tadpoles and water skeeters. We saved some frogs because they were near the water spigot and people were going to step on them. We took them to the creek.”
“I first tried flowersticks two years ago and failed terribly,” admits Gage, 13. “This year I learned from the counselor Sage how to do basic, reverse basic, 2-stick, helicopter, and helicopter spin, so now I’m intermediate. Hopefully next year I can become an expert.”
I move to the Stilt Field to assess the kickball game. A close call is argued, the runner and fielder shouting “Safe!” and “Out!” back and forth. “Roshambo for it,” command the pair of staff facilitators who have demarcated themselves with matching straw boater hats. “Ro, sham, bo…. Safe!”.
The pitcher winds up at the mound, aka a pink hula-hoop, and rolls the ball toward home plate, aka an orange traffic cone. The line of batters squint into the setting sun, trying to follow the trajectory of the hit.
“Third base is not very exciting,” says fielder Goldie, 11. “We don’t have a team name, but if we did it would be ‘The Mediocre Team But We Try’.”
“Three outs! Switch!” announces one of the facilitators. I follow Goldie to the batting line.
“It’s like a soccer rip-off of baseball,” she observes while waiting to be up. “I like it because my foot-eye coordination is better than my hand-eye.”
She kicks a single and takes her base. The next kicker sends up an easy fly and the teams rotate once more.
“The time is 7:32,” announces Performance José Garcia on the PA. “We will blow the conch at 7:45. Last call to sign up for tonight’s Fire Circle!”
“Game over!” chime the boater hat counselor pair after a few more minutes in gameplay. “The final score is infinity to infinity.”
The children disperse back into the Tipi Circle. Back in Lower Ring, I spy a fellow open-notebook-and-pen holder striding about.
“I’m working on a poem for the fire thing tonight,” says Viva, 11. Graciously they agree to share their creation to close out Wednesday’s blog:
“
The leaves are quiet with golden mist
I look up only for a glimpse
I walk through the world of blue
Swirls and spirals and shapes of two
“
Stay hydrated,
—J. Payseno, Editor